Chapter 7
Cain
Today has passed so fucking slowly I could scream.
I purposely had my scheduler put Patrick’s appointment at the end of my day because I knew my concentration would be shot after seeing him again.
I also had her choose a Friday because I’m in the mood to make terrible decisions where this man is concerned, and I’m planning on a long night.
But I swear the minute hand on my office clock is stuck.
It’s been three fifteen for at least an hour.
I force myself to focus on the patients in front of me, aware that I don’t have the luxury of a margin for error, but when it’s finally four thirty, I draw the deep breath I’ve needed all day.
Except when I refresh my schedule, Patrick still hasn’t checked in.
“Perry, can you call Mr. Miller and ask if he’s close?”
Perry shoots me a questioning look, which I return with a challenging stare until he holds his hands up in surrender.
“Whatever you want, Dr. R.”
“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?” I ask.
But instead of answering me, Perry just picks up the phone and dials the number on the screen.
“Uh, yes, is this Mr. Miller?” I hate that I can’t hear the voice on the other end of the line.
Another second goes by, and Perry’s lips curl in on themselves to hide his smile before he states, “He’s not going to like that.
” Then he lets out a genuine laugh as he says, “Yeah, I’m definitely not going to tell him that.
” After another pause, he adds, “Sure. You, too. Goodbye.”
“He’s not coming, is he?” I ask through clenched teeth.
“Uh, no,” Perry says.
“What did he say?” I demand.
“Nothing I want to repeat.” Smart man. But now I have to know.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Perry. Just spit it out.”
“He said, and I quote, ‘to get fucked.’” The look on Perry’s face tells me there’s more, and whatever comes next, he really doesn’t want to say to my face.
“And?”
“Did you know this guy before his appointment?” he asks suddenly. “Because the surgery went great, and when we discharged him, he was pleasant and doing really well, so I don’t understand why he’s so pissed at you.”
“What. Did. He. Say?” I grit out.
Rubbing the back of his neck and staring at the floor, Perry says, “He, uh, said if you wanted any help with that, you know where to find him.”
So, Patrick still wants to play, does he? He should know better than to call my bluff.
I nod at Perry. “Thank you. I’ll be out of town until Sunday night. If anything comes up, call Garrett.”
Exiting my office, I book a first-class seat to Raleigh, North Carolina, for eight o’clock tomorrow morning.
Looks like we’ll be doing this the hard way.
Pulling my rental car into the driveway of the address on file, I survey the neighborhood. It’s so perfectly Patrick. Boring. Expected. Suburban. I swear to God, the only time that man ever thought outside the box was when he was with me.
I climb out of the rented luxury SUV, right my sports coat, and make my way to the front door.
I should probably be nervous, and I definitely should have thought this through more, but it’s always been instinct with Patrick. Rational thought never really played a role in our relationship.
I’m already fuming as I hear him moving around inside after I knock.
But when the door is ripped open, it’s by a tall, young, muscular guy, startling me.
“Can I help you?” he asks.
I smile wickedly to myself, wondering if he’s using this guy to try to recapture what he once had with me. It satisfies me to know he’s still chasing it; it satisfies me even more to know he hasn’t been able to find it.
“Is this the home of Patrick Miller?” I ask, giving nothing away, trying to figure out how to play this interaction. Although his marital status says single, that doesn’t mean he isn’t seeing someone casually, or even not casually; it just means he isn’t legally married.
“Depends on who’s asking,” the guy says with an easy smile.
Holding out my hand, I offer a smile of my own, although I fear it’s fairly predatory since my prey is so close.
“Dr. Rosemont. Patrick missed his appointment yesterday.”
“Li, who’s at the door?” Patrick calls from somewhere inside the house.
Oh.
Li. Liam. This is Patrick’s son.
Why does that bother me more than if it were a lover?
Because a lover is replaceable, but this man will be in Patrick’s life even after I fly home tomorrow, my unhelpful brain supplies.
Before I can dissect that thought any further, Patrick rounds the corner in a white T-shirt and navy shorts. He’s always had great legs, and current men’s fashion allows me to see he’s doing something to restore his muscle definition because the man still looks good enough to eat.
“Jesus, Cain. I didn’t actually expect you to show up.”
“Obviously,” I say, unable to keep the desire from my voice. Patrick makes everything else disappear, including his son.
“Thanks, Li. I’ve got it from here,” Patrick says, clapping his son on the back.
“Alright, well, I’ll head out then, but call me if you need anything. Please don’t try to move any furniture again, okay?” the young man says, leaning in for a hug.
I cough at his words. “Furniture, Patrick? Really?”
He cuts his eyes to me and then sees his son to the door.
We watch in silence as Liam gets into the SUV parked next to mine and backs out, giving his dad a wave.
As soon as we’re alone, I press Patrick into the closest wall and run my nose along his jaw, allowing his scent to flood my memory. He instinctively widens his stance, giving me the access we both know I want.
Wasting no time, I run my palm over his rapidly swelling cock.
I never gave Patrick head as much as he gave it to me.
I generally only did it when I wanted to edge him or make him forgive me without having to issue an apology.
But today comes with a different set of rules.
I’m willing to get on my knees for him because I still have to protect his surgical site.
I’m already breaking one of my cardinal rules anyway because technically, I still haven’t discharged Patrick, meaning he remains my patient.
So maybe there’s one person I’d risk my license and my reputation for, but he hardly counts. I know Patrick Miller will keep my secrets as long as he’s one of them.
I wait just a second, forcing the bomb not to detonate quite yet as I revel in having Patrick under my hands again, already leaning into my touch, as though he’s been missing this as much as I have for the last two-and-a-half decades.
“I hate you,” he seethes, even as he places his forehead against mine.
“I know,” I confirm. “Trust me, it’s not nearly as much as I hate myself.”
And then KABOOM.
My mouth finds his, and I lick, bite, and suck while my hands cup his face, holding him exactly where I want him.
I quickly lose control, and my chest slams into his.
“Ouch!” he hisses, making me pull back.
Shit.
I have to be careful. His incision is healed completely, and he has good bone growth in his sternum, but it’ll be tender for another couple of months or so.
“Your bedroom. Where is it?” I ask, pulling him from the wall. He needs to lie down. Just this once, I’ll make pleasing him my top priority because I know he’s still healing, and I suspect that once I get him off, he’ll be right back under my spell.
“Who said anyth—”
I reach down and grab his balls, squeezing until he moans.
“Where is your fucking bedroom, Patrick?”
“Down the hall on the left,” he whispers. He’s never been good at telling me no, and I plan to use that to my advantage.
I drag him with me through the hall of his own house until I find the room and kick the door closed behind us.
I quickly shed my sport coat and the T-shirt underneath.
Already tasting my victory, my hands fly to the button on my pants, and Patrick’s gaze is locked on them, waiting for me to bare my cock.
It’s too soon to engage in the only kind of fucking he and I know how to do, so I resign myself to frotting and coming all over his stomach, because even a blow job on his part is too much right now.
“Your turn,” I tell him, stepping out of my boxer briefs, my cock hard and leaking precum.
Patrick reaches for it, no doubt wanting a taste of the only flavor that ever satisfied him, but I bat his hand away.
“No chance in hell,” I tell him. I have to leave him wanting more. “Get naked.”
He undresses slowly, and I begrudgingly help because he’s taking too fucking long. As soon as he’s naked, I grab his shaft and begin to stroke.
His hands fly to my shoulders in an effort to steady himself. His touch is just as electrifying now as it’s always been.
“Lie down.”
“I can’t,” he says, making me halt my movements on his cock.
“What do you mean you can’t?” I ask, slipping into surgeon mode. “How have you been sleeping?”
“Well, I don’t get a whole lot of that, but it’s still uncomfortable to lie flat, so I sleep sitting propped up on pillows.”
Oh. That’s normal.
“Fine. Then lie like that,” I say impatiently.
Patrick climbs onto the bed, careful not to put too much of his body weight through his arms.
Once he’s settled, he finds me staring at him, my brain struggling to process what I’m about to do. In a statement much bolder than his normal responses, he looks at me with his eyes wiped of emotion and says, “Well? Did you fly all the way here just to tuck me in?”