There must be a set amount of time that justifies my missing Trick—desperately missing him. It’s probably longer than five days, and if I’m honest with myself, I started to feel it within twenty-four hours of his departure. Pathetic? Yes, but so what.

“Miss me, sexy?”

I sneak into an empty exam room and lean against the door, pressing my phone to my ear, eyes closed. Just for a few moments, I need to be seduced by his voice. “I’m a basket case, and don’t you dare gloat. Just tell me you miss me even half as much as I miss you.”

He chuckles and my nipples wake up and scream to my vagina, “Trick’s on the phone!” My vagina blushes, a slow drool flows across her lips. “Missing you is worse than rehab. I’ve got the shakes; I need my Darby fix so fucking bad.”

A knock at the door shakes me from my dreamy state. I crack it open.

“Sorry, I didn’t know this room was occupied.” Jade looks askance at me. “What patient do you have?”

“Nobody, I’m on the phone … with a … pharmacist.”

“Sorry, I need the room and you have sutures waiting in room two.”

I smile against gritted teeth. “One minute, give me one minute.”

Jade rolls her eyes. “Fine. One minute.”

Bringing the phone back to my ear, I sigh.

“You have to go,” Trick says.

“Yes, unfortunately.”

“I need to get back to work anyway. The porn stars are coming back to the set.”

“You’re not funny.”

“I’m a little funny.”

“Bye.”

“Later.”

I open the door and Jade stumbles toward my feet. “Were you eavesdropping?”

She rights her step with a quick recovery. “No, I was just getting ready to open the door and tell you your minute’s up just as you opened it.”

I look at my watch. “I still have thirty seconds.” I scowl at her. “You … were eavesdropping.”

“Was that Patrick?” She follows me out the door and to the nurses’ station like a yippie little dog.

“I told you I was talking to a pharmacist.” I grab the chart and start to read over it.

She sidles next to me, nudging me with her shoulder. “I know what you told me; now I’m asking for the truth.”

Keeping my head down, I grin. “Oh, Jade, Jade, Jade … if only it were any of your business.”

“Oh come on, Darby! Throw me a bone.”

I slide the chart over to her. “Okay, Mr. Howard, room four. Possible fractured pelvis … if I remember correctly that’s a bone. Why don’t you get me an X-ray?”

She sticks out her tongue. A couple of the other nurses snicker. “You’re no fun.”

I head toward sutures in two. “Oh, I’m a barrel of fun; you’ve just never taken the time to get to know my fun side.”

This amazing thing has happened since I met Trick. My neediness for acceptance—inclusion—has started to vanish. I don’t mean it in a gruff or snobby way; I’d love to be friends with Jade outside of work, but I don’t crave it like I did every day of my life before I met him. Trick … he’s my best friend. He gave me that before he stole my heart. Then again, I don’t think he really stole my heart. I think I gave it to him when I still thought he was Grady’s. It’s a testament of what his friendship means to me—everything.

Day one million without trick. Aka day 10. My heart keeps different time. The good news: I survived the political fundraiser tonight alone. It helped that Rachel’s back in New York and my father was too busy to chat about my personal life. The bad news: I have the day off tomorrow and little to take my mind off Trick.

I flip through the channels, read a few chapters in my book, and call it a night. No need to stay awake any longer when Trick awaits in my dreams. In the darkness of night I see him with such vividness—intense blazing eyes and a strong jaw covered in a thick stubble. I rub my hands over it and his lips twitch, my twitch. It’s the smallest smirk; the one that says he knows how much I love everything about him. I smell him; it’s soap, a rugged sandalwood and pine cologne and those pheromones I could recognize in a room full of men with my eyes closed. My nose nuzzles into his neck; his hands thread through my hair, clenching, bringing me to him. God, I love the way he always fists my hair like I’m his lifeline.

“Trick …”

“I need my Darby fix.”

My heart leaps into my throat capturing my breath while I open my eyes because that voice … it’s not in my dream.

He’s here!

I put my palms on that sexy stubble with slow apprehension, like he could vanish under my touch. The street light filtering through my sheer curtains illuminates life in those amazing eyes. “You’re here.”

“I’m here.” He kisses me and it’s a breath of air filling my lungs, feeding my heart, and awakening every cell in my body.

That taste, it’s a quenching drink of water with a splash of mint. A warm inviting tongue greets mine with slow but firm strokes—a controlled desperation. Releasing my lips he kisses my cheek while cradling my face. I pull back, just to stare at him. My eyes blink in a rapid flutter.

He gives me what he doesn’t give anyone else … that roguish grin with perfect white teeth while he shrugs off his shirt. The beautiful terrain of muscles and tattoos indulge my eyes. Then he pushes down his jeans and boxer briefs, grin growing as I pull my eyes away from him to his eyes … Dear God, he’s his own finest masterpiece. I don’t care, he can wear that cocky grin all he wants. After ten days I’m going to unabashedly gawk at every inch of him.

A statue, he stands at the edge of my bed. I drag my drunken gaze back to his eyes again. “Miss me, sexy?”

I dig my teeth into my lower lip to contain my exuberance while I give him a slow nod. He reaches down and pulls my T-shirt over my head. I lie back. He pulls off my panties and kisses a slow trail up my body; my eyelids leaden from his touch.

“Darby …” he whispers over my lips.

I open my eyes and press my palms to his face.

“I love you.” He takes my right leg and pulls it up as he sinks into me.

I fight to keep my eyes open as my breath catches. “I love you too … so damn much.” I breathe out, pulling his face to mine, bending my other knee, and allowing his body to completely claim mine.

Brrr …

I haven’t even thought about turning on the furnace yet because summer is not over. However, fall has made a hail mary and landed two surprisingly cold days into the end of summer. Last night it fell into the forties with rain and gusty winds and now my place is freezing! Trick’s passed out, and as much as it kills me to leave his warm, naked body, I have to get the heat going in this place just to take the chill off.

“Eek!” The icy floor shocks my toasty toes. Making a mad dash for the thermostat in the hall, I wrap a chenille throw around my naked body. Flipping on the heat, I scurry on the balls of my feet back to the bedroom. An amused face propped up on a tattooed arm greets me.

“What are you doing?” He lifts the covers as I sprint the rest of the way, tossing the throw to the floor and leaping into bed.

I bear hug his warm body, cold nose nuzzled in his neck. “I can’t believe I have to turn on my furnace, but it’s a cool sixty degrees in here.”

He kisses the top of my head. “You seemed plenty warm last night. In fact, I think you were sweating.”

I giggle, kissing my way down his chest under the covers. “I was just giving you your Darby fix.”

He lifts the covers, tilting his chin to look down at me. “And what are you doing now?” That voice is an acoustic vibrator; it makes every conversation foreplay for me.

I inch my way down, kissing below his navel then licking along the tip of his erection. His hips jerk up. I grin. “Now I’m getting my Trick fix.”

He moans as I take him into my mouth. His hands fist my hair and the covers fall back over my head, leaving me in a darkness of pleasure. This has never been my thing … until Trick. Everything about him is officially my thing.

Everything about him leaves me in the most incredible sensory overload. I’m so drunk on him. He moans and tugs at my hair, driving me insane with need. Trick unleashes some untamed part of myself … I could fucking devour him.

“Darby … stop …”

Not happening.

I feel the conflict in his grip on my hair. He starts to pull me away, but his hips pulse toward me, begging for more.

“Fuck … Darby … I-I’m … serious …”

I ghost my hand over his hip and slide it under his ass, digging my fingers into his tight muscles. For just a few minutes I want to control his body the way he does mine. I want to feel him lose his mind, helpless to my touch.

“Shit … Darby!” His body goes rigid as I swallow every last drop of his salty essence.

My trip back up his body is just as leisurely as it was going down. Best. Trick. Fix. Ever!

He flips the cover off my head and the smile on his face … no words, just no … words.

“Good morning, Mr. Roth.” I grin, running my tongue in a seductive circle over my lips.

He shakes his head. “I think it’s time for me to return the favor.”

Rubbing my lips together, I feel the warm tingle of rosiness spread along my cheeks. “Um, yeah about that…” my nose wrinkles “…I sort of took care of that too…” I dig my teeth into my lip and shrug “…you know, since I had a free hand.”

“Jesus, Darby!” Trick squirms under me. I feel him start to come back to life. “Do you have any idea what the thought of you touching yourself with my cock in your mouth does to me?”

I kiss the corner of his mouth then sit up, wrapping the sheet around me. “I have an idea.”

“Where are you going?” I’ve never heard Trick sound anything but raw and masculine, but I detect a hint of a whine in his voice.

I laugh. “Eggs and jellied toast. I’m hungry.”

He tugs at my sheet. “But you just ate.”

Twisting my body, I free myself from his grip. “Yes, I had my morning dose of zinc, calcium, potassium, fructose, and protein, but it wasn’t very filling.”

“There’s more where that came from.”

I snort. “I’m sure there is.” Standing, I hustle into my closet and pull on a pair of pink plaid flannel lounge pants and a sweatshirt.

He slips into his jeans and tugs his shirt over his head. “I don’t think the average woman knows the nutritional composition of semen.”

Wrapping my arms around him, I slip my cold hands into his back pockets. He brushes my hair away from my face as I gaze up at him. “I’ve never been that good at average.”

He kisses me, then brushes his nose against mine. “Thank God for that.”

“So what’s my BFF have planned for us today?” I flip my hair up, shutting off my hair dryer.

Trick leans against the vanity, arms crossed over his bare chest. A few rivulets of water still cling to his messy post-shower hair. “You know I don’t respond to your text talk.”

I reach up on my toes and kiss the corner of his jaw. “You sure did in the shower. Every time I OMG’d, you gave me more hashtag wowza!” I bat my eyelashes at him. “Emoji winking face. Emoji face blowing a kiss.”

I think he growls, but it’s so subtle I can’t say for sure. The scowl … that I can’t miss. “If your oral skills weren’t so refined, we’d no longer be friends.”

Shoving my dryer in the bottom drawer, I laugh. “Yes, we would be.” I hop up on my vanity next to him. “So, Mr. Artistic God to the Stars, what’s my face need today?”

Trick stands, turning toward me. I don’t know if the day will ever come that I don’t feel a twinge of nerves under his expert, scrutinizing gaze. He feathers the back of his hand across my cheek bone, then brushes his thumb along my bottom lip. “You’re with me today. Your face doesn’t need anything.” He slides his hand behind my neck and presses his lips below my ear.

“It doesn’t have to be a lot. Maybe some mascara or lip gloss?”

He straightens shaking his head, then turns, sauntering out of the bathroom. “I only hide your perfection from other people. Come.”

I’m beginning to lose track of how many times he says something that feels like a defibrillator to my static heart. Trick doesn’t claim to be a gentleman, and truthfully he’s not, but when it comes to sweeping me off my feet he has the biggest fucking broom I’ve ever seen.

“Where are we going?” I brush past him to my closet as he slips on his shirt.

“My place. I want to show you something.”

“If it’s your arsenal of weapons, I don’t want to see it, but Nana might.”

He leans into my closet doorway, resting his hands on either side. “I don’t have an arsenal. I have a gun … or two.”

I glance up at him while tugging on my boots.

“Your nana’s into weaponry?”

“I don’t know if she has a machete or a grenade belt, but she has a handgun in her nightstand.”

Trick’s eyes crinkle in the corners as a smirk plays across his face.

I duck under his arm and grab my phone off the nightstand. “That’s only half of it. She and her friend, Mary, go to the shooting range every Monday.”

“That’s … awesome.” He turns.

“Awesome?” I shake my head, heading toward the stairs. “I don’t think senior citizens with arthritic hands, glaucoma, dementia, and a slew of other issues should be packing.”

“They probably offer an AARP discount at the shooting range.”

“I also don’t think you should be allowed to have a handicap parking permit and a gun permit.” I pull on my jacket.

“Now that’s not true and you know it. In fact, it’s just the opposite; people with disabilities can feel vulnerable and they definitely need a way to protect themselves.”

“Brilliant. Before long I’ll be writing prescriptions for handguns.”

“Well, if it bothers you, maybe you should write your senator about it.”

I give Trick the stink eye before he walks past me to the back door. He slips on his socks and black boots that are sitting by his suitcase. “You’re driving. I took a cab here from the airport.”

My heart swells at the thought of him coming to my place straight from the airport. If he weren’t still here, I’d blow up his phone with chat acronyms and Emojis.