Chapter 3
ELIAS
It’s killed me not to message her for the last few days. It’s all I’ve wanted to do. Every few minutes, I bring up our messages, and I read them over again. Every single night, I’ve stroked myself to her videos. I haven’t been able to delete them like I said I would.
I will. Eventually.
I haven’t had enough of her yet to be rid of her. I’m not sure if I ever will. There’s something about her. She charmed her way into my mind effortlessly. No other woman has ever done that for me. I haven’t been able to stop listening to her beg for me.
God.
The way she fucking begged for me. I can’t get enough. I turn up the volume of her begging for my cock.
“I wish your thick cock was splitting me open and making me scream. Would you want me to scream your name? I would. I’d let everyone know who was fucking me.”
My cock begins to fill for the fifth time this morning.
I’m at work. I shouldn’t be watching her videos while I sit behind my desk, but I can’t get fucking enough of what she sounds like.
Her voice is on repeat in my head, every second of every day.
When I’m with patients, I’m locked in, but she’s still in the back of my mind.
And I want more. I want so much more.
No one has ever had this effect on me, not even my ex-wife.
Danielle was great, but we met when we were very young.
We got married at nineteen thinking we would be together forever.
We stayed married for about ten years before we realized that our relationship wasn’t working.
Sexually, we had never really been compatible, but being so young, what did we know about that?
She’s doing great now. She remarried and has three kids. We drop in on each other once a year, around Christmas to wish each other a happy holiday, and then we catch up for a few minutes, wish each other well, and move on.
And I really do hope she has the life she wants.
Now, I’m wondering what the hell I want out of life.
I was happy diving into my work. I’m the youngest neurosurgeon department head Warrick General has ever had.
I’m damn good at my job. I’m the top neurosurgeon in the country.
My day is spent operating on someone’s brain.
They’re trusting me to get them back to their regular lives without any issues.
Every day, I hold someone’s personality in my hands, their reasons for living, the way they make decisions, feel, fall in love.
It’s a lot of pressure, and that’s what I love about it.
I stare at my phone again, rereading the messages from this mystery woman that I can’t seem to get out of my head. There are a lot of issues with this:
One, we don’t know what one another looks like, but that isn’t that big of a deal to me. Being a brain surgeon, I know there’s more to a person than looks. I really liked Miss Wrong Number’s energy. She was fun, carefree, and a breath of fresh air that I hadn’t had in a while.
Two, my life is consumed at the hospital. Hell, I barely fucking see anyone outside of this department.
And yet another big issue is the seventeen-year age gap. What kind of man would that make me if I pursued her and took away her youth? She’d resent me for taking away her best years.
“Fuck,” I curse, dropping the phone on my desk. “Twenty-six. Fucking hell.” There are so many reasons I need to stay far away from her. It’s why I never messaged her back.
I want to text her and tell her she’s been on my mind for days. One part of me wonders what I would do with a woman her age, and the other part of me growls because I know damn well what I want to do with her.
Unable to get enough, I stare at the photos again, the ones of her from the club.
Her red hair is twirling in the hair, covering her face.
All the photos she sent me are blurred, which makes me smile.
I imagine she has green eyes, but I know she has beautiful red hair, and a body I want my hands on so fucking bad it’s kept me up at night.
“Wow, I haven’t seen you smile like that since I shook your hand and welcomed you to Warrick General.”
My phone clatters to the desk when I hear Dr. Warrick’s voice.
I feel like I’ve gotten caught doing something I shouldn’t have.
Dr. Warrick is the one man in this hospital I do not want to piss off.
Not only is he the chief of surgery, but his family owns this hospital and many across the country.
He’s truly the man in charge and everyone knows it.
“Dr. Warrick, what brings you to my side of the hospital?”
“Just wanted to see how you were liking things. I know you and I have a surgery together at the end of this week. Are you ready?”
“I’m always ready,” I answer with a bit too much confidence.
It’s true though. I’ve had many more successful surgeries than losses. It’s why people come to me.
Dr. Warrick chuckles and steps into my office, holding a medical chart under his arm. He takes a seat in front of my desk, getting too comfortable for my liking. I’m a bit of a loner. I like my space.
“I know,” he says. “But being in a new place, nervous jitters and all…”
“No nerves. I’m ready. You can count on me. I know I’m young, if that’s why you’re—”
His eyes widen a bit before he schools his features. “No, I’m not worried about that. Your age has nothing to do with your skill. You’ve worked hard to perfect your craft. I respect that. You have the steadiest hands I’ve ever seen. I know you’ll do great.”
“Thank you, sir.” I tap my fingers on the desk. He still hasn’t said why he’s here.
Company is fine, I guess. I’m not the best at making friendships where I work. I do my job, I go home, sleep, come back, and do my job again. That’s how my life has been and I’m happy with it like that.
At least, I thought I was. My eyes drift back to my phone, remembering the messages waiting for me to reread for the thousandth time. I thought I was okay being alone. It’s worked for me for over a decade. I don’t have time for love.
Love.
Look at me getting ahead of myself. I don’t even know this woman’s name, and she’s got me in a fucking mess.
“You’re distracted.” Dr. Warrick narrows his eyes at me. “I know that look all too well.”
“I’m fine.” My gaze lands on his wedding ring. If I remember correctly, he and his wife have an age gap.
His eyes follow to where I’m staring and he lifts a brow along with his hand. “Are you getting married? Are you nervous? You don’t strike me as the nervous type, Dr. Carrington.”
“I have a question, but it isn’t appropriate for work.”
He frowns. “Listen, you’re a nice guy. A great doctor, but I’m married and I’m not—”
“No! No, what? No, that’s not what I’m getting at. Never mind. I’m sorry I said anything. It’s been an odd few days for me. That’s all. Is there anything I can help you with, Dr. Warrick?”
“Elias.”
I’m a little shocked he’d use my first name.
“We’ll be working together for a while. I’d like to say we can be friends. If you have a personal question, ask it. I’m an open book.”
“You and your wife, Dove. There’s an age gap?”
“Around twenty years,” he answers honestly.
My eyes almost fall out of my head. I knew it was a big difference, but I wasn’t expecting twenty years. “It doesn’t bother you?”
“It did. In the beginning. She was so young in my eyes, just starting her life. I felt like I couldn’t take that from her—you know—her youth.”
I nod because that’s the exact way I feel, even though I don’t even know my mystery woman’s name. I’m acting as if she and I are going to get married.
“And now…” Dr. Warrick smiles, his gaze drifting into space.
“Now, I realize I saved my best years for her. I have a beautiful child and one on the way. My life is better. Brighter. And I feel younger. I’m happy.
I thought I was happy before, pouring myself into work, focusing on the job, and not making time for anything else. ”
He eyes me warily. “But she made me realize there was more. There’s so much more than this.” He waves a hand in the air, gesturing to the hospital around us. “There’s so much more to life.” He cocks his head, analyzing me as he begins to piece things together. “You met someone? She’s younger?”
“By seventeen years. I don’t know if I can go down that road.”
“Why? Does she want to?”
I furrow my brows. “I think so.” I know she’d at least like to talk more. “She said the age gap doesn’t bother her. I didn’t message her back. I thought it was better that way.”
He folds his hands together. “Mmm,” he hums, not adding anything, but it sounds like he doesn’t agree with me at all.
“Well, I can’t tell you what you should and shouldn’t be comfortable with.
If you’re bothered by it that much, then I agree, walk away, but you could be walking away from the one person who could change your life for the better if you allowed it. ”
“It isn’t serious. We’re barely even speaking, but she said her age, and my brain malfunctioned.”
He chuckles. “It’s a good thing you aren’t a brain surgeon,” he teases.
“Funny.” I narrow my eyes, laugh, then lace my fingers behind my head and lean back in my chair. “She brought fresh air into my life so quickly, and I want to feel it again. I forgot how good it felt to…” I trail off.
“To?” he pushes.
“Hope,” I answer with a tinge of sadness.
I’m not the hopeful type. I decided to be a doctor after my mom died when I was thirteen.
She had a brain aneurysm, and she would have survived, if the doctor hadn’t made a mistake.
I knew right then what I wanted to be when I grew up.
I never wanted another family to lose what I’d lost due to a doctor’s inability to do his job.
I didn’t just lose my mom that night. I lost my dad too.
He didn’t die, but grief consumed him. He’s an alcoholic, and I haven’t seen or talked to him in years.
I don’t know how he is or if he’s alive.
The last time I saw him, he was stealing from me to pay for a bottle of whatever he could get his hands on.
I told him if he didn’t go to rehab, we were done.
So. We were done.
Yet this fucking woman breezes into my life in one night by mistake and infects me with her joy, and I want more of it.
I need more of it.
I only like to depend on myself. It’s better than way, easier, more efficient. I know the one person I can count on is myself.
“What’s wrong with hope, Elias?” Dr. Warrick asks, a look of sadness or pity filling his eyes. “Without hope, you have a very empty life. You’ll work harder to fill it, but the emptiness will only get bigger.”
“Maybe.”
He stands after checking the time. “I have patients, but think about what I said and maybe we can get a drink sometime this week. No more of this isolation you’ve put yourself in.”
“How did you know?” I grin.
“Because I’ve been you. And it’s lonely.” He gives the door a soft knock as he leaves.
Lonely.
I’m not lonely. He couldn’t be more wrong.
Picking up my phone, I do the one thing I told myself I wouldn’t.
I text her.
Me: Hey, how are you?
There. That’s good.
I slip my phone in my pocket and get back to work. Surgeries fill my evening and in the brief moment I check my phone, she hasn’t answered my text.
I’ve ruined it.