Chapter 5
Cain
Iknow better than to break my own rules. I punished myself with a fourteen-mile run the day after I visited Patrick in the hospital, but I couldn’t stay away.
Seeing him again and finding out he’s unattached has brought a lot of old feelings to the surface…as well as a few new ones.
I’ve always been a man singularly focused on my career. This career demands it. All of my patients are sick, and for most of them, I’m their last hope.
I couldn’t afford to be distracted back then, and I certainly can’t afford it now, which is why I’ve always kept my physical pleasure emotionless.
Patrick was by far my longest relationship, although I use the term very loosely.
I never took him on a date, bought him a birthday present, called him just to ask how he was doing, or held his hand.
We simply had undeniable passion as soon as we were in the same room, and that’s the way I wanted it.
And all he wanted was me.
It was perfect… until it wasn’t. Our time together was driven by excitement, lust, need, power, and greed. The ultimate pursuit of pleasure, using each other to get what we needed. But I wasn’t careful, and eventually Patrick broke…which only fed my ego more.
And then it became a game. Albeit, one that had no winner.
I’ve kept an eye on his progress in our rehab unit, but he’s leaving tomorrow, and my jaw clenches when I think about it.
I can’t give in.
Who’s to say he would even let me? As soon as the thought enters my mind, I know it’s bullshit.
I saw the way he looked at me the day after his surgery.
Oh, there was plenty of hatred and a little sadness, but underneath it all, I saw the same fire burning in his eyes that I’d ignited twenty-five years ago.
Time has done nothing to dull the sensations he creates in me, either. As a man in his forties, Patrick looks better now than he did when we were twenty; the salt and pepper in his hair, a look of distinguished honor; the muscles in his arms and chest, a testament to his discipline.
When he was lying on my table, naked except for a pair of surgical shorts, there was a brief moment where I thought I wasn’t going to be able to drag my scalpel through his skin.
For the first time in my career, my hand shook as I made an incision down the center of his chest. When it was time to crack his ribs to gain access to the organ I needed, I almost threw up, but I forced myself through it.
I’d already hurt Patrick Miller in every other way; physically making him bleed and breaking his bones was the last stone we’d left unturned.
The thing that kept me focused despite it all was the knowledge that even now, he still trusted me to be the one to get the job done, never mind the fact that I really didn’t give him a choice.
Maybe this time I could save his life instead of destroying it, even though I know forgiveness isn’t that easy. Nor do I deserve it.
Hell, I’m not even sure I want it, because I make no apologies about our time together.
I slam the lid of my laptop closed, pissed that I’m going to see him before he leaves my hospital, but desperate to know if he’d let me in again.
When I enter his room in the rehab wing, our eyes meet instantly, as if he were expecting me. He’s thinner than he was when I last saw him. My PA and nurse have both been giving me regular updates, but they don’t include pictures of anything other than his incision.
His eyes are less bright. The hospital has a way of doing that to people—it’s a very depressing place—but I know this particular dimming is my fault.
“Perry, would you mind giving Mr. Miller and I moment, please?” I ask my nurse while never taking my eyes off Patrick.
“Sure thing, I have a couple of other patients to check on, just page me when you’re done.”
I nod and move aside so he can exit the room.
Closing the door behind him, I lock it to ensure no one else will walk in.
“Dr. Rosemont,” Patrick says. The coldness in his tone makes my cock twitch.
“Lie down,” I instruct. “Let me check your incision.”
He quirks a brow at me in defiance. “It’s been closed for almost a week. There’s nothing to see.”
Oh God, his insolence is making me hard.
“That’s for me to decide.”
I don’t issue the command again, waiting to see if he caves on his own.
He stands up straighter, but begins carefully peeling his shirt off before tossing it on the bed behind him.
He’s lost muscle mass, as is to be expected, but seeing the beginning of the scab that I know will leave a mark—my mark—on him for the rest of his life, makes me snap.
“Fuck,” I growl in frustration as I step into him, wrapping my hand around the back of his neck, pulling his mouth to mine.
He doesn’t fight me.
He doesn’t touch me.
But he doesn’t pull away, either, so I continue.
He tastes so fucking familiar, reminding me of the days when I would climb the walls until I could get him on his knees again.
He lets me take from him until I’m panting, but it’s not long before something wet hits my cheek, and I pull back to see Patrick’s eyes closed as tears cascade down his face.
“Are you in pain?” I ask, needing to know if it’s his heart.
Without opening his eyes, he replies, “I’ve been in pain since the day I met you.”
He still knows exactly what to say, and just like that, I need Patrick Miller now more than ever.