Page 10 of If Cain Were Able

“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.