Heart Doctor Read online

  Heart Doctor

  a novel by

  Melissa Silvey

  Heart Doctor

  Written by: Melissa Silvey

  Copyright 2017 Melissa Silvey

  All Rights Reserved

  Please do not copy, or publish without the express written consent of author.

  This book is intended for mature audiences.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Any likeness to any person is purely coincidental.

  Chapter One

  May 1, 2000

  “Do you have The Ecology of Commerce?” a deep, rich, confident voice asks. He’s probably a jock, trying to cram for finals. I’m surprised he’s asking for himself, usually their tutors do that for them, along with their papers and their homework.

  I don’t look up, I just start typing into the library’s computer system. I’ve seen enough jocks around campus. I’ve been here three years, after all. I don’t have classes with many of them, since most of them aren’t pre-med students. And the ones I do have class with, I’m practically invisible to them. There’s a certain type of girl that jocks generally fall for, and I’m not it. They usually like the tall, thin, and super hot girls. I’m none of those three.

  “It’s upstairs, to the left, three rows back,” I inform him, and look around his lacrosse jersey, without looking at his face. So, he’s a jock and rich. That’s a fantastic combination. There’s no one standing behind him, so I pick up my book again. Cell biology will be the death of me.

  He doesn’t move though. “See, that’s the thing. I already looked there, and the system said the book should be there. It’s not where it’s supposed to be.”

  I was wrong. This annoying rich jock will be the death of me.

  I place my bookmark between the pages, and write down the book’s call number. Then I turn toward my work partner, and say, “Hey, Tiff, I’m going upstairs to find a lost book.”

  “Okay, Olive,” she replies, without looking up from her own book.

  I get up, and walk around the desk toward the staircase. He moves, and he’s standing about two feet in front of me, practically blocking my path. And he is huge. He must be six feet four inches tall, at least. He’s every bit of a foot taller than me.

  I take a step around him, and walk toward the staircase. He follows behind me. I move to the left, and back to the correct row. I worked my way up in the library, from shelving books for two years to the circulation desk. I know the system like the back of my hand. I crouch down, and find the empty space where the book should be.

  Damn it.

  “Maybe it’s checked out,” he says, and takes a step closer to me.

  I’d almost forgotten about him. I search all around the empty space, making sure someone hasn’t moved it. Then I look up on the next shelf.

  “So, is your name Olive?” he asks. I glance over and see an expensive pair of bright white tennis shoes with bright blue swooshes, that match his jersey perfectly.

  “No, my name is not…” and then it dawns on me. That’s what Tiff calls me.

  “What is your name?” I stand up and see a blue number 41 on a white jersey. Then, I tip my head back, and encounter the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen. They have to be colored contacts. No one has eyes that green.

  “I’m… It’s…” What did he ask me? All I can think about are his gorgeous eyes. “I don’t know,” I grumble, and return my attention to the shelves.

  “You don’t know your own name?” he chuckles.

  This is why I don’t like jocks, especially rich jocks. They are generally assholes. I examine this particular asshole a little closer. His hair is a dark mass of messy curls that is a little too long, his skin is golden from the sun, and his lips are full and deep, soft pink. He smiles, I guess he noticed me looking, and his teeth are bright white, perfect, and beautiful. He has a cleft in his chin, and his jaw looks chiseled from stone. And even though he’s smiling, he looks dark and brooding. Damn rich jock.

  “Don’t worry about it!” I exclaim, because I’ve forgotten again what he asked me. I shove my light blonde hair out of my face, and glance down at the paper where I wrote the call number, to make sure I am in fact in the right place. “I’m trying to find your book.”

  “Do you have a cell phone?” he persists.

  “No, I don’t have a cell phone.” As a poor kid, attending on grants, scholarships, and student loans, I knew that I would not be able to afford certain luxuries if I decided to go to the University of Virginia. It is a very good school, though, and if I keep a 4.0 gpa I might even get considered for scholarships to medical school.

  “How am I supposed to call you to ask you out?” He sounds rich. He has the type of smooth, deep voice that comes with money and confidence. I dare to look at him again, and he smiles at me. Damn, he’s beautiful, and perfect. He looks like a damn movie star. Fucking rich jocks.

  “You’re not,” I snap. He crosses his arms in front of his chest, and spreads his legs a little. He’s wearing blue shorts, and his calves and thighs are huge. “Did you bring me up here to waste my time on a wild goose chase?”

  I place my hand out, and shove him a little as I try to walk past him. That’s when I see the book that I’ve been looking for, laying on a table at the end of the row. I pick it up, turn toward him, and groan, “Is this your book?”

  “Oh, look. You found it,” he says, with feigned surprise.

  I drop it on the floor in front of me, and promptly turn to walk down the steps. I return to my seat at the desk, and begin checking out books. That’s when I notice the hot jock is next in line.

  He hands me the book, and his student ID, and says, “That’s me, Alexander Astor, or Lex for short. I could also give you my number if you’d like.” He smiles that winning, rich kid smile. Does he bleach his teach regularly or something?

  “No, thanks,” I reply, as I hand him the book. “It’s due back by the sixteenth. Have a nice day.”

  He gives me a look as if he’s confused, shakes his head, and walks off.

  May 1, 2016

  I groan as I feel the sunlight surround me. I haven’t even opened my eyes, and my head already hurts. At least my alarm hasn’t gone off yet. Or is my phone dead? Do I have patients scheduled for tomorrow? No, I told Ella not to schedule any patients on Mondays after I’d been out of town.

  “Good morning, darling,” I hear from beside me. The beautiful voice has a British accent. Shit, there’s a man in my bed. How did that happen, again?

  I try not to let a groan escape. Maybe he’ll think I’m asleep and leave. What if I’m in his hotel room? Damn, I need to stop drinking at conferences.

  I feel a light stroke of fingertips on my cheek, caressing over my nose, then to my lips. “You know we’ve met before, at a wounded veterans’ competition in DC.”

  “Mmmmm…” It’s too early in the morning for chatting. What time is it? It doesn’t matter. It’s still way too damn early.

  His fingers glide over my throat, to my ear, and over my bare shoulder, sending shivers of pleasure over my body. “I was there with my cousin, the prince. I asked you out to dinner, and you said, and I quote, ‘I don’t do dinner.’ Before I could ask you if you wanted to move on to what happens after dinner, you’d already gone.”

  I chuckle. I don’t remember it happening. I can’t imagine I was hit on by the cousin of a prince, and I blew him off.

  His lips begin to trace a line over my jaw, to my neck. It feels amazing. His lips are soft, gentle, and warm. I think he’s already been out of bed and bru
shed his teeth. I smell mint. I wish I could say I remember him, but I don’t even remember last night.

  “How long ago?” I ask. Not that it will help me remember.

  “Three years, and some months,” he replies. I can feel his breath against my chest. It’s making my nipples pucker up and harden. I don’t normally wake up beside men. But I actually kinda like how this feels.

  I bite my lip. I actually remember that. It was my first wounded vets charity event. I saw Lex there. I avoided him for a few minutes, and then I left. I watched him from a distance. Yes, I stalked him. He was with his wife. First wife, anyway, they divorced a short time later. After that, I didn’t attend any more veterans’ charity functions.

  “I came back the next year, and you didn’t attend,” he murmurs, before he slides the sheet off my chest to expose my breasts. “I’ve been trying to bump in to you for years. I almost feel you’re avoiding me, darling.”

  How could I possibly be avoiding him if I don’t even remember meeting him? I won’t tell him that. He flicks his tongue against my nipple, as his hand tugs the sheet farther down my torso.

  I hear him gasp. “You’re amazing,” he says. Then his weight shifts, and I feel him on top of me, but not lying on me. His hands are on either side of my hips, holding himself up, and his lips are moving down toward my tummy. “You’re absolutely incredible, love.”

  I smile, and reach out to him. I grab a handful of thick hair, and feel a soft but muscled shoulder. I allow one eye to open, and I see a shock of red hair, that is sticking up all over the place. I know who it is immediately. Both my eyes go wide then. I had sex with the most eligible bachelor in the UK, and now he’s going down on me.

  He’s at least three years younger than me. Has he really been trying to get my attention for three years, and I didn’t notice? Surely he could have emailed. I would have hit that.

  I spread my legs when I feel him getting closer to my pubic bone. “I want to be smothered and die in your fanny,” he murmurs, before he rubs his lips against mine. Those lips, anyway. Maybe fanny means something different in England?

  “Ahhhh,” I moan, and wiggle my hips to rub myself against him.

  “You’re love-“ he begins, before I grab his hair, and buck my hips off the bed, and shove his face into me. He makes noises, and sighs, and his hips start to move against the bed. He thrusts a finger into me, and my breath catches.

  “Up, sweetie,” I murmur. He glances up at me with dark midnight blue eyes. “Your finger, hook it.”

  That’s when he finds my g-spot. I gasp loudly. I feel my entire body shake. I always get off this way. Always. It’s just, Lex flashed through my mind, and now I’m thinking of him. I’m literally picturing him naked while the hottest royal on the planet is eating me out. One day I will forget about him, and how he was the first to explore all of my spots, and the first to teach me about pleasure. But today isn’t that day.

  I orgasm, thinking of Lex Astor and the first time he licked my pussy. It was so long ago, and I remember it like it was yesterday. I pull my hands out of his red hair, and allow him to breathe. He looks up at me with a hopeful look on his beautiful face, like a puppy who needs praise for his new trick.

  I smile at him. “That was incredible, sweetie. You can fuck me now.”

  His entire face beams. His pale cheeks are ruddy red, and his dark blue eyes sparkle, as he moves up my body.

  “With a condom,” I remind him.

  He looks disappointed, but nods. “Of course,” he says, and moves off the bed. I get an eyeful of his pale skin and his fit but not sculpted back, and his lovely backside. But when he turns around, I’m a little disappointed. I mean, I’m sure he’s incredibly average, but I have Lex Astor to compare every man I have sex with to, and not many men can meet those standards.

  “I hope you wore a condom last night,” I chide gently.

  He nods, as he roles the rubber on while I watch. “Of course, love,” he assures me. He climbs back onto the bed, and I spread my legs but tighten my muscles.

  He kisses me, which only makes me feel a little gross because I haven’t brushed yet, but he tastes like my pussy so there’s that. His hands are on my breasts as he slides into me. I tighten up as much as I can, and I feel the friction of the condom.

  “Oh, you’re a bit of heaven,” he sighs, as he slides out, and then in again.

  “Umhmmm,” I reply. I’m trying to concentrate.

  “Do you like it?” he asks.

  “Umhmmm.”

  He tries to say something else, and I reach my hands back into his hair to pull him in to kiss me again. Just don’t talk to me during sex. Ever. Thanks.

  He groans loudly, and really begins to move his hips. It’s nice. It’s good. It’s going well…

  And then he grunts, and stops.

  Well, at least he got me off first.

  Thankfully my alarm blares at just that moment.

  He pulls away and stares into my eyes. “I need to shower, and catch a plane back to DC,” I say sadly.

  “You can take my plane,” he offers. That’s when I remember he’s one of the richest men in the UK. His family has property holdings in the billions, his parents own diamond mines, and he owns a pharmaceutical company. I don’t even want to think about how much he’s worth.

  “I’m sorry, I can’t sweetie. My assistant has me on a very strict schedule, and if I veer off it she gets snippy.” I reach up and kiss his nose, before I wiggle away. I move toward the closet, and find my suitcase there. Yay! I’m in my room.

  I turn on the shower, and climb in. He joins me, uninvited. Oh well, I won’t have to put up with him for much longer.

  Chapter Two

  May 2, 2001

  He kisses my cheek until my eyes flutter and open, and then he gently kisses my lips. “It’s our anniversary, Olive,” he whispers against my ear.

  “What are you talking about?” I murmur, as I stretch. The sheet shifts, and my breasts are exposed. He moves his shoulders forward, and takes one hard pink pebble into his mouth. I gasp loudly, and his chuckle sends vibrations over my skin and shivers down my spine.

  My nipple pops out, with a sharp intake of breath from both of us. His fingertips move to circle the sensitive, wet spot. “I met you a year ago,” he replies proudly.

  “Really? I don’t…” I begin, but his other hand moves down over my body, and I can’t concentrate, much less think, when he’s doing that.

  “I saw you at the library. I needed one more source for my paper, and you were just sitting there looking all sweet and innocent, and oh so smart with that cell biology book. And I thought, I have to have that girl.” He’s rubbing his fingers lightly from my hairline to my bellybutton, and back again.

  I chuckle a little. When I do, he dips his fingers between the folds, to test my level of wetness. That’s when I groan, and wiggle my hips against him. But he pulls back, and rubs his wet finger over the same path. He likes turning me on and teasing me, almost as much as I do.

  “And only two weeks later, after finals, did you relent and go out with me. And you made me bring you back to your dorm after the date, and you didn’t even let me kiss you,” he reminds me. I try not to smile. “And I had to stay in my apartment, and not go to the Virgin Islands with my family, because you stayed on campus to take summer classes.”

  I try not to frown. He knows why I did it. I didn’t really have anywhere else to go.

  “And after the summer semester, I convinced you to move in with me, promising you could have my spare bedroom. As if.” He laughs.

  He took my virginity before the end of the semester. It was inevitable. He was just too damn hot to resist. Plus, he’s a gorgeous rich guy who wouldn’t give up when I told him no. He bought flowers, and concert tickets, and arranged catered meals and walks in the park. He is so much better than I could have ever hoped for.

  I begin to flex my hips, trying to get him inside me. But he does what he wants, when he wants. I like it, usually, ex
cept when he’s teasing me like this. “Please,” I moan.

  He gives me his bright, winning smile, which makes his eyes sparkle and emphasizes his cheek bones. “I know that your first choice was Harvard. I’m sorry you have to go to New York with me, but that’s where the headquarters of Astor Inc. are located. I don’t want us to live together there,” he says.

  I freeze, and hold my breath. He’s breaking up with me. I should have seen it coming. I should have known he’d get bored with his poor distraction. He’s a student, yes, but he’ll graduate with his MBA in just a few weeks. In the fall he’ll go to work for his family’s holding company. In the fall I’ll start medical school. Maybe Harvard will still take me, and give me enough scholarship money to make it feasible economically.

  I don’t say anything. He asked me if I’d be okay moving with him to New York. He asked if I’d live with him there. I guess he’s changed his mind.

  “I love you, Olivia Bell, shamelessly, mindlessly, endlessly. I want you to be my wife, so we can take Manhattan together.” He takes my left hand, and slides a ring onto my third finger. “Marry me, Liv. Be mine for the rest of my life.”

  That’s when he gazes into my eyes. There’s so much love there, more than I’ve ever seen in my life. I am overwhelmed by the love, and hope, and trust I find staring back at me. “Say yes, Liv. I’ll die if you don’t.”

  I scoff. “Whatever,” I say, with a distinct eye roll. I try to move off the bed, but he rolls over onto me and holds me down.

  “I’m completely serious, Liv. As soon as we graduate, we can go to Las Vegas. We can get married, then we can spend the month in Cancun. After that we can move to New York.” He links his right hand with my left, and holds it up beside his face.

  That’s when I see the ring. It’s a petite, heart shaped diamond, set on a thin band. It’s absolutely perfect. My eyes go wide when I see it, and I think I might cry. “It’s beautiful.”