More Than Words: More Than, Book 3 (9 page)

“Is she nice?”

“Very.”

“Pretty?”

Fucking gorgeous. Sexiest woman Sam knew. “That’s important?”

It was Ruth’s turn to roll her eyes. “Of course it’s important. You have to find her attractive, otherwise what’s the point?”

“She’s attractive, Ruthie.” So attractive the thought of Molly made him hard, which was not a good thing with his sister sitting opposite him. “Can we leave it at that?”

“Are you gonna marry her?”

“Jesus, who are you? Mum?”

“I’m your sister and I need to know these things. Especially if you’re going to marry her. I’ll need to find a dress and shoes and everything. Oh, and I’ll want to be a bridesmaid. You might want to prepare her for that.”

Sam stood. Yes, he’d had an epiphany yesterday. Realized exactly how much Molly had come to mean to him. But the knowledge was new. Too new to discuss with anyone—even his sister. “Okay, it was nice of you to visit. But guess what? It’s time to leave now.”

“No, it’s not. You’re trying to get rid of me because you don’t want to talk about your new girlfriend.”

“You’re right. That’s exactly what I’m trying to do. So bye, and tell Cody I say hi.”

“At least tell me her name, Sam.”

“Not going there, Ruth.”

“It’s serious, isn’t it?”

It could be. Very serious. “I told you. It’s new. Too new to know what it is.” He took his sister’s elbow, helping her out of her seat. Ruth must have been ready to go, otherwise she’d never have let him coax her up.

“It’s serious,” Ruth told him with conviction. “If it weren’t, you’d tell me all about her.”

“If it works out, I’ll tell you, okay?” He walked her to the door, and for the first time he hoped he had something to tell his sister, soon.

“Promise?”

“Of course I promise.”

“I hope it works out, Sammy.”

So did he. “I know you do, Ruthie.”

“She better be worthy of you.”

“She is. Better than worthy, I swear.”

“Good.” His sister smiled. “It’s about time you met someone. I’m happy for you.” They headed for the waiting room. Ruth squeezed his hand then turned to his enticing receptionist. “Guess what, Mol?”

“Don’t tell me.” Her eyes shone. “You finally gave in and bought the blue shoes.”

Hell, Sam wanted her to look at him like that. With her eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Nope, better than that.”

Molly gasped, and the sound hit him in the gut. “Better than the shoes you’ve been perving over for a month?”

Damn it, how could something as innocent as a gasp sound so sensual? So sexual? But then he supposed Molly could read him a book on business economics and it would sound sensual. Sexual.

“Way better.” His sister practically happy-danced right there in his waiting room. “Sam’s getting married.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Molly froze. “H-he is?”

“He is. And…I get to be the bridesmaid.”

“No, he isn’t,” Sam said, but Molly was staring at Ruth, and Sam wasn’t sure she’d heard him.

“We chatted about it in his office. He tried to keep it a secret, but one look at his face told me he was seeing someone special. The
one
.”

Molly paled. “Sarah,” she said in a rough whisper.

Sarah? What the fuck?

“Sarah,” Ruth exclaimed triumphantly. “So
that’s
her name.”

Molly nodded.

“No, it isn’t!” Jesus. How had Molly jumped to that conclusion? Hadn’t he told her he wasn’t marrying Sarah?

“You know her?” Ruth asked his receptionist.

“I, uh, met her the other day.”

Christ, he’d never seen Molly’s skin that color.

“So? Is she nice? Pretty? What does she do?”

Sam wasn’t terribly surprised Ruth couldn’t see Molly’s shock. She was too wrapped up in his supposed news. Too excited for him. This was what she’d wanted for him since Saul had died. For him to be happy.

Besides, she had no reason to expect Molly to be upset by the news. Had no idea what he and Molly had come to mean to each other in the last few days.

Sam tried to catch Molly’s attention, tried to tell her—without his sister noticing—that she’d gotten the wrong end of the stick.

But Molly wouldn’t look at him. Wouldn’t turn her face even an inch in his direction. She did, however, square her shoulders and stand up a little straighter.

“Very pretty. She’s a surfer,” she told Ruth. “Even borrowed Sam’s board the other day.”

Yeah, right. Sarah was as much a surfer as she was his bride to be.

“You lent someone your board?” Ruth gaped at him. “Just as well you’re going to marry her then. A surfer’s the perfect woman for you.” Ruth turned back to Molly. “Sam never lends anyone his board.”

“I’m
not
marrying Sarah.”

Again, neither woman paid him any attention.

“I know,” Molly answered Ruth. Then she turned to Sam and smiled at him. It was enough to freeze Sam in his shoes. While superficially conspiratorial for Ruth’s sake, the smile not only lacked luster, it was cold as a winter’s night. “Maybe it’s because Sarah’s so pretty. And sweet. Honestly? If I had a board, I’d lend it to her too.”

“Molly—”

Ruth cut him off. “You don’t surf, do you?”

“God, no.” Molly returned her gaze to Ruth. “I’d drown if I ever tried.”

Damn, Molly was upset. And livid. All the talk about Sarah—a woman Sam had no interest in—had understandably thrown her, but she was trying her best to hide it.

“Me too,” Ruth agreed. “You know what I think?”

“What?”

“I think I’m going to buy the blue shoes now. If Sarah doesn’t choose blue for the retinue, I’ll wear them to the engagement party.”

Whatever color had returned to Molly’s cheeks leached out again. “There’s an engagement party?”

No, for fuck’s sake. There isn’t an engagement party.

“There will be, if I have anything to say about it. And Sam knows, I always have to have my say.”

Okay, enough.
“Ruth.” Sam’s tone demanded his sister pay attention. “I’m
not
marrying Sarah.”

This time his sister heard him. Kind of. “
Yet
. I know. But soon. I heard the way you spoke about her, saw that look in your eye.”

Yeah, he may have had a special tone to his voice and a sparkle in his eye, but it had nothing to do with Sarah. Nothing whatsoever. “Ruth—”

“Sarah wants to marry your brother,” Molly spoke over him. “She told me as much when I met her on Monday.”

Fuck, the whole marriage idea had been a joke, something he and Sarah had laughed about when he’d offered her his board. It hadn’t been real. But from the look on Molly’s face, from her pale skin and the way she refused to meet his gaze, Sam knew she thought it was very, very genuine.

Shit, shit, shit.

He needed to set the record straight, now. Needed to shut Ruth up and tell her flat-out he was not marrying Sarah. Not now, not ever.

Before he could say another word, the door opened, and his first patient of the afternoon walked in. The second young Ava Mendel spotted Sam, she had her arms wrapped around his legs and was hugging him for all her worth, leaving the words stuck on his tongue. He plucked the child up and propped her on his arm, against his side.

Molly’s entire demeanor changed. She dropped all pretense of holding a personal conversation and switched gears to being the ultimate professional receptionist. She greeted the dad, Syd, by name, said a cheery hello to Ava, and just like that the conversation with his sister was over.

Ruth kissed his cheek, waved to Molly and left, and Sam had no chance to set the record straight.

He didn’t find a chance for the rest of the afternoon. Patients kept him busy constantly until an urgent call from CCU had him racing downstairs.

Greg Avery had regained consciousness.

While this should have been good news, the child’s ability to speak coherently seemed to have not received the memo that the rest of his body was awake. Sam hoped to God the aphasia was transient and Greg would regain his ability to comprehend language and pronounce his words quickly.

Sam spent a long time with the overwhelmed child and his devastated father, and by the time he returned to his office, Molly had left for the day.

Other than the necessary conversations about the patients, which had all taken place right beside the full waiting room, she hadn’t said a word to him since Ruth had left. Hadn’t acknowledged him in any way. Even though he’d tried a couple of times to tell her the truth, she’d cut him short, distracting him with details of some other vital issue.

The only thing that gave Sam hope was the email he’d found in his inbox when he’d returned to his office. Molly must have written it during lunch, before Ruth dropped by. Or maybe while Ruth was in his office.

There was less than no chance Sam would wait until he got home tonight to read her letter.

Hell, no.

Soon as his ass was in his chair he was opening it.

He was, however, determined to speak to Molly first. No way could he let her go another minute believing he was involved with Sarah—or worse, getting married. Hell, Molly must think him the biggest asshole on earth. Supposedly engaged to one woman yet sharing hot, shameless emails with another.

What kind of idiot did that?

He grabbed his mobile, scrolled down to Molly’s home number and phoned. The call went straight to her machine. He left a message. A simple one, in case Mickey heard it.

Next he tried her mobile, hoping against hope she’d answer.

Molly was
the one
, and he’d suspected as much that first day he’d seen her at the hospital. When she’d been at Mickey’s bedside, desolation, worry and sheer determination blazing from her eyes.

The phone rang until a mechanized voice informed him the number he was trying was not available.

Alarm bells clanged. Molly never let a call from him go unanswered.

Sam shoved his fear aside. He’d try again in a couple of minutes—as soon as he’d read her letter.

Dear Sam,

Your last letter and your honesty blew me clean away. It took my breath and brought tears to my eyes. I spent the whole night lying in bed, thinking about your words. And your desires. Truth be told, I’ve thought of little else since.

Sam rubbed his hand over his brow and eyes. So absorbed had he been in needing to set Molly straight, he’d almost forgotten how open his email had been. What he hadn’t forgotten was the intensity of his reaction to her in the kitchen yesterday. How desperately he’d wanted—no,
needed
—her.

Which probably explains why I’m sitting in my office, burning up with desire for you. I’m just going to come out and say this. I’m going to tell you what I want, right here and right now.

Forget that either of us have work to do, Sam. Lock the door to your rooms, head on over here and fuck me until neither of us can walk straight.

Today I’m not interested in the slow seduction of your mouth trailing along my neck and body. I’m not interested in your hands exploring my breasts and pussy. Forget taking your time tasting every square inch of my skin.

Just fuck me.

That’s what your words did to me, Sam. They reached inside and touched me. They set my heart and body on fire. Your honesty has me turned on to a point where foreplay of any kind would only leave me frustrated. I want you hard, I want you ready and I want you now.

Sweep the papers off my desk, throw me over it and take me. From behind or from the front. Either. Both—as long as you fuck me. Make it fast and furious. No time for thought or for pleasantries, no time for soft beds or silk sheets.

Truth is, I don’t think I’d last five seconds if you did fuck me. I’ve wanted this for so long, the reality of feeling you inside me would probably trigger an instant orgasm.

Don’t worry, I have staying power. So long as you give me a minute or so recovery time, I’ll be good to carry on. More than good. Desperate. A quick orgasm would never be enough for me.

God, I want you to go deep. Want to be stuffed so full of your cock, your balls slap against my ass.

Ah, my ass.

I haven’t mentioned that yet. Haven’t told you how sensitive I am to being…touched there. Perhaps I’ll leave that for another day, another email. For now let’s go back to you fucking me.

Sam began to sweat. A bead of perspiration rolled down his back.

Had Molly alluded to the fact that she liked a little ass play?

It sounds crass, doesn’t it? Fucking. But it’s the most appropriate word I can think of. Because what I want now isn’t tender and sweet. Not by a long shot. It’s raw, and it’s basic, animalistic even, but damn, Sam—it’s passionate as hell.