Medicine Man (Page 61)

So I do that. “Hey, Dr. Blackwood.”

I’m aware that the nurse is right here, sitting at the desk in the front with a book of her own.

He walks closer, watching me in that thorough way of his. I hope he doesn’t find out that my feelings are in turmoil. That every night this week I’ve gone to sleep crying.

“Beth ordered all these books for me. I think Josie told her all the times I complained about it,” I tell him, hugging my copy to my chest.

He doesn’t look at the books, keeping his focus on me. “Maybe she did.”

I swallow, my throat filling up with things I want to say. Things I want to ask. Maybe I should let go of my stupid vow and ask him directly. Maybe he’s waiting for me to ask him.

But I don’t get the chance because he reaches out and takes the book from my hands, like he usually does when I’m hugging them for strength. Perhaps he does it because he doesn’t want me to hide from him.

“Half-Blood Prince,” he reads off the title. “I’ve never liked Harry Potter. Actually, no. It’s a lie. I did like it. I was jealous of the characters. Jealous because they all had magic. They could make things happen just by drinking a potion or flicking a wand.”

Oh my God.

Is he telling me?

Is my patience going to pay off? Does he finally realize he can trust me?

I go still. Like, completely still. I’m afraid to breathe, to blink. To make any sudden movements that might spook him.

Although I do cross my fingers and my big toes inside my bunny slippers.

“My mom made me read the first three when they came out. Well, she wanted to read them herself. I was there for the company. I just kept going after that.”

Simon’s looking out the window to our side, appearing lost, and it’s such torture to just stand here, immobile, so far away from him. But I don’t know what else to do.

“She wouldn’t go to sleep until we finished them. And I couldn’t say no to her. I could never say no to my mom, actually. She loved being outdoors. Loved the willow tree in our backyard. I remember spending my summer vacations under that tree. When I was a kid, I used to think that my mom was so bright and full of life. I thought she had so much energy. She was always doing something, going somewhere, and I was always with her. She took me everywhere, vacations, shopping, and I thought it was because she loved me.

“She did love me, but she took me with her because she was alone. Because she needed company and my dad was always busy. He was always here. At Heartstone. With his patients. And my mom…” He sighs. “Well, my mom was lonely. She waited for him. She was good at that. Waiting. And my dad was good at saying no. So that left me. I don’t know how I compared but I did everything I could. To make her feel less lonely.”

My heart’s beating so loud. Louder than the storm outside. It’s a wonder I can hear him. It’s a wonder I can understand what he’s saying.

Most of all, it’s a wonder I haven’t hugged him yet. This lonely, lonely man.

Simon’s always been a fixer, hasn’t he? Always been a hero.

He’s a rock.

But right now, he’s a brittle one. He could break any second; he’s so stiff. So devastated.

I know I said I wouldn’t ask but I think he needs this. He needs the push.

“What… What happened to her?”

Simon looks away from the window at my words, and for a second I think I’ve ruined it all. He won’t tell me.

But then, he puts the book on the shelf and shoves his hands inside his pockets. In a flash, he’s back to being himself. He isn’t devastated anymore. He’s angry. Furious, even.

“She killed herself.”

My mouth falls open as I feel the breath getting knocked out of me. “Simon –”

The look he gives me is the angriest I’ve ever gotten from him and I almost draw back in my place. “I’d like to see you in my office this afternoon.”

With that, he leaves, and all I can do is watch him do it.

Hours later, when I go to his office and see the closed blinds and hear the two clicks of the door closing and locking, I don’t feel the same satisfaction as I felt days ago.

“Simon, listen—”

“Don’t say no,” he rasps.

There’s so much anguish packed in those three words that my tears start falling. Like I’m the rain and he’s the cloud that makes me flow.

Does he really think I’ll ever say no to him? If he does, then he really doesn’t know the things I feel for him. The things I’ll do for him. The depths I’ll go to and fall in, for him.

Simon Blackwood doesn’t know anything, then.

I nod and he’s on me.

It’s okay. We can talk later. Right now, if he needs my body to feel better, then I’ll give it to him.

I become completely pliable as he lowers me down on the hardwood floor. He makes quick work of my clothes and enters me in one smooth thrust, because even agitated I’m wet as fuck for him.

It’s like my body knows he needs me right now. He needs me more than he’s ever needed me and every feminine part of me is loose to let him in.

My pussy makes cream for him so it’s easier for him to slide in. My internal muscles clench and release so he can get the maximum pleasure. My skin becomes more sensitive, softer, more pillowy so he can dig his fingers in.

I am his playground, and he can play all he wants. I’m his medicine in this moment, curing his illness. His princess slaying his dragons.

His rhythm is choppy but even then, we move in sync. I think this is the most in sync, in rhythm we’ve ever been. He’s staring into my eyes with such passion, such turbulence that I wind my legs around his waist and arch my back to let him in deeper. The hardness of the floor doesn’t even register with how hard he is above me.

Simon has an arm braced up by my head and his other is clutched in a fist in my hair. It’s like he’s holding on to me because he thinks he might drown. The look in his gaze is so lost and so horny, it breaks my heart.

I won’t let him drown; I tell this to him with my eyes. I tell him when I gasp his name. I tell him when he pants into my mouth, his brows bunched up in a heavy frown.

“Simon,” I whimper his name and he locks our mouths in a kiss.

That’s when I come, even though I wasn’t looking for it. But Simon’s kisses are orgasmic. They push me over the edge every time.

And while I’m clenching around him, he withdraws, takes off his condom and comes on my pussy and my wild curls, branding me like that first time.

Despite the waves of orgasm flashing through both of us, he pulls me to my feet. With glittering eyes, he puts his hands under my ass and heaves me up, taking me in his arms.

In his usual fashion, he walks me to the washroom and sits me down on the counter. The marble is so cold against my naked butt.

Then, he goes back out and gets my clothes. Wetting a tissue and cleaning me up, he puts me back into my clothes like I’m a child. I let him do it because I know it makes him happy, smoothing down my hair, taking care of me.

But I can’t bear the silence any longer. “Simon –”

He looks up, his eyes cracked open in a way I can’t put my finger on. “Willow, I…”

Even though he trails off, my breathing escalates. My heart races. It pounds, and goose bumps come alive on my skin.

Because for some reason I think… I think he’s going to say it. He’s going to say what I’ve been waiting for.