More Than Words: More Than, Book 3 (8 page)

Which is one of the reasons I’m replying now. I shouldn’t be. I have to get dinner ready and help Mickey with her reading and homework, but there’s something I need to say first.

I know this is supposed to be an explicit letter detailing how much you turn me on. But for once I’m not focusing on my insatiable hunger for you. (You can take it as given that I’m aroused anyway. I’m
always
aroused when you’re on my mind.)

This letter is about something else altogether. It’s about what happened today in the kitchen, when I told you Jeremy Marks was coming in. Or to be more specific, how magnificently you handled yourself when you heard.

I know it’s hard for you to deal with your muscular dystrophy patients. I’m aware that every time you see one of them it tears you apart inside. It reminds you of your brother’s struggle over and over again.

You hide your pain so well, present such a stoic front, but you can’t fool me. Every DMD child you treat has a special place in your heart, and when they’re unwell, you feel it—just like you felt it when Saul was sick.
 

And when he died.

I know how much you want to make a difference in these children’s lives. I know you wish you could achieve the impossible and cure them all. Let me tell you something, Sam. You may not be able to heal them, but you do make a difference. Every day you give those children and their families what no one else can. Your full attention, your guidance, advice, medical care and most of all, your soul.

Your strength and determination leave me in awe. No matter how tough it is, no matter how many times you’re forced to relive Saul’s illness, you soldier on. You take a deep breath, find your strength and give those children one hundred percent of yourself.

I think you’re amazing.

I want you to know, just like those children have a special place in your heart, you have a special place in mine. Always.

All my love,

Molly

Dear Molly,

You’re right. Working with my muscular dystrophy patients brings back every ounce of frustration and helplessness I experienced with Saul. I want to help, want to make their lives more bearable. I want to save them all, but, of course, I can’t. There is no cure and no magic wand.

Which is why I need that time to breathe, to steel myself against the disappointment. Those few minutes help me find my strength.

You help me too. You give me strength by being near. You sense my need to center myself and wait calmly until I rediscover my balance. You’ve always done it, and it helps makes everything okay.

I liked how you touched my arm today, Miss Molly. Liked how your hand felt wrapped around me.

Know what I liked more? How you held me. How you pressed against my back, using your whole body to give me support.

But it wasn’t just support I felt. Ah, hell no. Up close like that, you didn’t just hold me. You consumed me. I could feel the length of your body against mine, the whisper of your breath on my neck.

Citrus and sunshine—your unique scent—hit me like a blow to the chest.
 

Yeah, Mol, at the time I was searching for strength. But in that moment you held me, rational thought ceased to exist. I wasn’t a doctor and you weren’t my receptionist. In that moment I was a man being held by a woman. A woman who aroused me like no other. A woman I’ve wanted forever but forced myself to believe I couldn’t have.

I wanted to haul you into my arms and kiss you until next week. Kiss you until you begged for more. Begged for everything.

I stood in that kitchen staring at the sink, and wondered how you’d respond if I tore the clothes from your body, set your sweet ass down on the edge of that sink and sank my cock into your hot cunt.

The desire to get inside you, to feel the walls of your pussy close around me…it went way beyond physical arousal. There was voracious hunger. Intense yearning. And a sweltering heat that scalded me from the inside out, demanding I take you, make you mine.

I have never wanted anything as ferociously, as fiercely as I wanted you. It wasn’t a conscious thought. It was a primal necessity.

But it wasn’t just about fucking. (Make no mistake. I want to fuck you. Hell, I want it so bad, my balls ache.) This urge, this instinct was more about merging with you. I had to have you, had to make you a part of me. And the only way to do that was by taking you. Right there, in that kitchen.

If there hadn’t been patients in the waiting room, I’d have followed my instincts and made you mine. I would have pushed so deep inside you, I’d have lost myself to the rapture of your body.

But here’s the thing. I suspect I would have found myself too. Because you’re my center, Molly. You hold me together.

One day soon, my need to have you will be a reality. I will make you mine. And in doing so, I can only hope you will make me yours in return.

Yours always,

Sam

Chapter Six

“Sammy, I’ve found her. The perfect girl for you.”

His sister hadn’t even closed the door to his office when the words were out of her mouth.

Sam made one last notation in a patient file then closed it and gave her his full attention. “Ruthie,” he said patiently, “you find the perfect girl for me once a week.”

“No, seriously.” Ruth sat in one of the patient chairs. “Jill
is
perfect.”

Sam nodded, knowing it was useless to argue. She was going to tell him all about Jill, whether he was interested or not.

“She’s cute. Really cute. About five-three and very pretty. She’s a primary school teacher, twenty-five, and men are forever asking her out. But she’s forever saying no, because after the last idiot she dated, she’s waiting to meet Mr. Right. Of course, I convinced her you were Mr. Right, so she’s expecting your call.” She grinned in triumph and pushed a sheet of paper across his desk. “That’s her mobile number and her home number. Don’t phone before four though. She’ll be at school.”

Sam pushed the paper back to his sister without even looking at it. “I love that you’re looking out for me, and I thank you for it, but again, I’m not interested.” He told her the same thing at least once a week.

“Of course you are. Look, Sam. I know you love your work, but you can’t marry it. You’re young, you’re single and you have to live a little. Just because it didn’t work out with bitch-face what’s-her-name, it doesn’t mean you can spend every waking hour at the hospital.”

“Her name is Dena, and she isn’t a bitch, she just wasn’t right for me.” Sam would know. They’d spent a year together, but things hadn’t worked out.

Maybe because Dena wasn’t Molly?

“Besides, I’m not married to my work. I have some tough cases at the moment. They’re time-consuming.”

Ruth poo-poohed him. “Your patients are always time-consuming. I haven’t had a conversation with you in the last three years when you haven’t had a complicated case. What is it this time? A rare neural disease no one’s ever heard of? A spinal injury from a car accident? Oh, no, don’t tell me. The prime minister’s son has a headache, and she’ll only consider a consultation with Sydney’s top neurologist.”

She never mentioned muscular dystrophy. Like Sam, she wasn’t ready to poke fun at it.

Sam laughed at her. “The prime minister doesn’t have children, stupidhead.”

“Doesn’t matter. You treat every patient like he or she is royalty.” She put out a placatory hand. “Which is great, by the way—for the patient. It just means you don’t have any form of a social life whatsoever, because you’re too busy catering to royalty. But that’s okay. Little Ruthie is taking care of everything. Including your next date.” She pushed the sheet of paper back at Sam. “Jill is available tomorrow night, by the way. And she loves sushi, as do you. See? A match made in heaven.”

“Anyone with taste buds loves sushi,” Sam pointed out.

“She has a great body, Sammy. Works out five times a week. That’s where I met her. At the gym.”

“If she’s as wonderful as she sounds, why don’t you date her?”

Ruth stared at him as if he were daft. “Because, stupidhead, I have this silly little prerequisite when it comes to the people I date. I prefer them male.”

“Well, maybe I do too.” Sam said it for no other reason than to sidetrack his sister from her very determined matchmaking.

Ruth’s laughter echoed off the walls of his office. “Yeah, right. I remember when Cody asked if you’d ever consider kissing a man, and when he puckered up, all ready to initiate you into his world, you turned positively green.”

Sam grimaced. Ruth and Cody, her gay BFF, had found it hilarious. Him? Not so much. He shrugged off the memory. “Maybe I’ve changed since then.”

Ruth snorted.

“Okay, I haven’t changed since then. I still like women.” One woman in particular.

“Good. Guess what? Jill
is
a woman. Big coincidence, huh?”

“Huge.” Sam rolled his eyes. He lifted his phone and dialed.

“Really?” Ruth demanded. “You’re phoning someone while I’m here?”

Molly answered after one ring. “Yes, Dr. Sherman?”

“Miss Molly, can you please do me a favor?”

“Anything you want.” The sound of her voice sent a pleasurable wave through him.

“Molly’s too small to physically remove me from your office,” Ruth warned, predicting his next move.

Sam ignored her. “Can you please make a note to bar Ruth from my rooms?” he asked Molly. “Forever.”

“Sure thing, Doc. I’ll add it to the list of all the other instructions she pointedly ignores.”

Sam had no doubt Molly not only kept a list of his instructions, but she and Ruth laughed over them every time his sister popped in for a visit.

“Thank you. Could you also get Masters on the phone? Ask if he can head down to my rooms immediately.”

Ruth huffed in indignation. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“Tell him it’s an emergency.”

“Is it about Allan’s surgery?” Molly asked.

“Oh, no.” Sam grinned evilly at his sister. “It’s more urgent than that. Tell him the patient he believes is in need of a frontal lobotomy is in my office right now. This is his chance.”

Ruthie glared at him. “I can’t believe you’re going there.”

Hell, yeah, he was going there. Anything to stop her crusade. He covered the mouthpiece. “I can’t believe you’re trying to set me up on another blind date.”

“Should I ask him to check his surgery schedule?” Molly asked without skipping a beat.

“Fine. You win.” Ruth took back the page with the phone numbers. “For now.”

Sam punched the air. “Never mind, Miss Molly. Scratch that last request. It looks like the patient is leaving. Thanks for your help anyway.”

“Anytime.” Molly hung up.

“Once—” Ruth sulked. “Once I tried to set Cody up with a doctor, and I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“A straight doctor, married with kids. His wife was with him.”

“How was I supposed to know she was his wife? I thought she was a nurse.”

“Ruthie, you don’t have to play matchmaker to the whole world.”

“Not the whole world. Just the people I care about.” Ruth cared almost too much about others. Especially about him. He understood though. She’d lost one brother. Failed to protect him from his awful disease, even though it wasn’t within her power to do so. She was determined to take care of her surviving brother, no matter what it took. Even if he didn’t need to be taken care of.

“Did you ever stop to think that maybe those people can find their own matches?”

“Like you’ve done such a great job of it?”

Sam didn’t answer, but he thought about Molly and smiled.

“Oh, my God.” His sister stared at him. “You’ve met someone.”

Oops. He shouldn’t have smiled. Should have known Ruth would be all over it in seconds. “It’s irrelevant,” he said. “All I’m saying is you don’t have to make sure everyone you care about is happy. Sometimes we can look after ourselves.”

“You
have
met someone.”

Ah, crap. There was no escape. Not from his sister.

“Is she nice, Sammy? Does she make you happy? Who is she? How long have you been seeing her? And damn it, why didn’t you tell me? I’d never have convinced Jill to go out with you.”

Sam stared at her in exasperation. “I tell you every week not to set me up.”

“Yeah, but every week you’ve told me you’re single. This is different.”

Was it? It wasn’t as if Sam was seeing Molly. They’d exchanged some pretty heated emails, but nothing had changed between them.

Okay, everything had changed between them. Sam himself had changed. But still. Everything was also the same.

“Sammy, damn it. Tell me.”

“There’s nothing to tell, Ruthie. It’s new. Too new to know where it’s going.” Although deep inside he hoped it was going somewhere.