Matthis: M.E.D.I.C.S.: An Instalove Steamy Military Medical Romance

by Pandora Snow

  I take in a centering breath, patting him on the back. "Sure am, time to find out how much. See you tomorrow, Corporal."

  I proceed quickly to the Commander's doorway.

  "Take a seat, Sergeant," Commander Brigham orders. "I've been informed your first therapy session with Dr. Fletcher didn't end well. Is that accurate?"

  "Yes, Sir," I reply. I don't know exactly what he knows.

  "She said you became angry about discussing the loss of a serviceman in your care while in Iraq, and you stormed out. Is that correct?"

  Close enough. "Yes, Sir," I reply.

  "Patients can take years to get to the bottom of their mental and emotional wounds. It sounds like Dr. Fletcher found your hot button on her first try. You two must have intense chemistry."

  "Yes, Sir," I reply, fighting back a magnanimous smile.

  I feel her lips against mine, the taste of her authority lighting up my need.

  "You will issue Dr. Fletcher a proper apology in the morning for your unacceptable behavior. I expect you to fully complete your therapy protocol. Are we clear?"

  "Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir." I stand to walk out the door as he offers me an afterthought, meant for my ears only.

  "Business and pleasure don't mix Hayes. I suggest you get the business out of the way as quickly as possible."

  Oh my God. She wants me too.

  ***

  This morning's schedule is jam-packed with two new patients, a therapy session, and a serving of humble pie. Christine took yesterday off. I considered bringing her flowers to soften her acceptance of my apology, but we're still on a professional basis. Therapist with benefits isn't likely part of her service. I'm hoping to change that.

  I knock briefly on her office door before entering. She's focused on the computer and holds up a finger to indicate she needs a moment. The sunlight is shining through her smooth, shiny hair from the bright windows, her emerald green dress matching her bottomless eyes. Business before pleasure, I repeat in my head to maintain my thoughts.

  "Thank you for waiting, Sergeant Hayes," she says politely, standing to walk into the inner therapy room.

  "First, allow me to apologize for my inappropriate behavior Wednesday, Dr. Fletcher. Your questioning brought up feelings of pain and anger, and I failed to maintain my self-control." Her body shifts from one foot to the other as her face remains open to my apologetic words.

  "I respect your capabilities immensely, and I'm committed to completing my therapy protocol with you."

  I watch vigilantly for any sign of movement in her face, hoping to see relaxation around her eyes and a softening of her mouth. Dr. Fletcher can read my emotions with unprecedented expertise. I intend to read her body with the same level of ardency.

  "Apology accepted, Sergeant Hayes." Her entire body has relaxed as her swiveling hips garner my attention and lead me towards the couch. I'll consider this my first victory.

  Once we're seated, I complete my mission. "I'm also sorry I disrespected you in your office by giving you a kiss." She doesn't respond in words, but the rosy blush that rushes across her cheeks speaks volumes. Her reaction tells me everything I wanted to know - two victories in two minutes. The day is looking up.

  "Let's regroup with a less volatile subject. What elements of being a Combat Medic, and now Rehab Specialist, bring you the most pride?"

  "I love helping soldiers, Dr. Fletcher. My father was a veteran of WWII, a fighter pilot over Germany. He was incredibly technical and precise in every aspect of his life. I had a keen interest in the medical field while in high school. Enlisting was the logical next step to give me the experience and education I desired."

  "Very altruistic, Sergeant Hayes, that's an admirable reason to continue service. Has your father passed?"

  "Yes, several years ago. Both of my parents fell ill while I was serving in Iraq. I was allowed to fly home briefly to say goodbye. They were incredibly proud of me and supported my goals. I left them in good hands, but they both succumbed to heart disease."

  A few drops of water have formed in the corners of my eye. The guilt I feel losing them still lingers, though nothing compared to the depth of my emotions for men lost under my personal care.

  I hold my gaze down for a moment, covering the vulnerability apparent in my eyes. When I return my gaze to Christine, she too has a few tears. I'm rendered helpless, our connection far more profound than doctor and patient. This meeting of our two souls is destiny.

  During the remainder of our session, I manage to express a few additional feelings in a mature adult way. She offers continued compassion for the trauma I experienced and outlines several methods for managing ongoing guilt. No one is more surprised than me that I feel a thousand percent better after talking through the emotional details.

  We end on a positive note as I'm debating whether or not to ask her on a date. The Commander has already dictated this is a no, but her warm defenseless presence says yes.

  She walks me to the front office door, offering a sweet hands-off goodbye. I choose to take the safer route, wanting to end our session with the emotion of connection. Somehow, she needs to know I'm interested.

  Before I cross the threshold, I say in a low voice. "By the way, I'm not sorry for the kiss itself, just the inappropriate location."

  She instantly blushes again, and I stroll triumphantly to the exercise floor, victory number three in hand. Commander Brigham is an observant man. Christine and I have a mutual sexual attraction, and we're building an intimate heart relationship. If I can maintain proper etiquette while in therapy, I'll have a chance to date her outside of the confines of work.

  "Good Morning Private," I say cheerfully to Pete. My good mood is due entirely to my challenging hour with Christine this morning, and the promise of starting an intimate relationship.

  The distraction of her presence continues permeating my every thought. She's doing her job by asking me personal questions; I get that. But her uncanny ability to see the core issue of my emotional baggage is scary.

  The real Matthis is a frightened, shut-down, lonely guy. The only passion I've felt in the last several years is from her body. Our magnetism is mutual, her becoming blush showing me how she feels. The taste of her pouty lips from Wednesday's searing kiss is still lingering at the forefront of my mind. Damn, but she's sexy.

  "Hey Doc, what am I doing today?"

  Pete is new to rehab. He lost his left leg when his convoy ran over a series of IED's in the Iraqi desert. Improvised explosive devices were the biggest threat in the field. I treated dozens of soldiers with the exact same injuries Pete sustained.

  Several of his unit were killed during that incident. He hasn't been willing to open up yet, but I've been dropping subtle hints about my similar battle experience. The irony of talking him through his brush with death, when I'm unable to verbalize my own trauma, is illuminating.

  "Let's get you on the bar and strengthen your right leg and upper body. You're still in great shape, Pete."

  "Thanks, Doc," he says sadly. "My girlfriend has been understanding and everything, but I don't feel like a man anymore, not like before." I know what he means, but that topic is best left in Christine's hands.

  "Several veterans here at the center have received prosthetic legs, including the Corporal over there. Have you investigated that option?"

  "Insurance denied my initial claim. I haven't been working long enough to be eligible for those benefits. They recommended resubmitting the paperwork again in six months."

  "Alright, then, we'll focus on building and maintaining your core stability. Six months will fly by; that's how long I've been back from the war."

  Christine's words from this morning pop into my head. "My therapist said I have to focus on where I can go from this moment. None of us can change the past. It's our choice to stay stuck or move forward."

  "True enough," he says as I grab his crutches once he's taken hold of both balance bars. I can tell his heart isn't here today, but he puts up a courag
eous effort. Do other people look at me like I look at Pete, with pity and sorrow our circumstances aren't different? Do they see me as a lost cause living in the past? Does Christine think that?

  "Are we done, Doc?" he asks after thirty productive minutes.

  "Sure, Pete. Do you have time for the sauna? It's one-hundred thirty degrees, almost as hot as the Iraqi desert!

  He smiles briefly and takes the crutches.

  "Yes, Sergeant. Thanks for the advice and for sharing your personal coping mechanisms," he says before entering the locker room door. Christine's beneficial effects on me are spreading fast and wide.

  The guys are meeting at the Rib Shack tonight for some hot saucy meat and trouble ending beers. I've done enough grown-up work for one day. I need some unadulterated fun.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  "Sergeant Hayes, great to see you!"

  "Ian, hey man!"

  It's been weeks since Ian joined us for a beer. When we returned from Iraq, he immediately proposed to his girlfriend, an honorable move. He's a loyal friend and comrade. I'm happy he's found his forever girl.

  "To Ian's ball and chain, I mean, engagement!" Snake toasts, the first beer down the hatch.

  Ian will be the first one in the squad to get married. We're at different stages of maturity when it comes to relationships. Cyrus is getting serious with a new girl, though he's keeping her a secret. Snake is playing the entire field, or so he brags. I've been on a hiatus since we got home, of my own making. Christine is the first woman who's caught my attention, in every seductive way.

  The ribs are hot and delicious, and the conversation is light. We're knee-deep in sauce when a woman catches Snake's eye. He's stalking his prey for the evening, the gleam in his eye sinful.

  'There are three women, one for each of us single guys. The dark-haired beauty in white is sexy as hell," he says. "Turn around and look, casually."

  My torso shifts to the right, causing me to drop the messy rib on my pants. Shit. It's Christine.

  "I call dibs on the one with dark brown hair," Snake blurts out after seeing my reaction. I laugh to myself, trying to imagine him with the keen independent Dr. Fletcher.

  "What's so funny, Hayes, think she's out of my league?" His eyes are glaring at me as Cyrus interrupts.

  "We're about to find out gentlemen, here they come."

  My eyes open wide as I wipe my sticky hands on a wet nap. I'm standing as Christine reaches my side, feeling suddenly shy about seeing her in public.

  "Funny running into you this evening, Sergeant Hayes." Her smile is genuinely disarming, and I'm not sensing sarcasm. She's actually happy to see me, the sharp rise in my body temperature, confirming her presence.

  " Gentlemen, these are my girlfriends, Jenna and April. I'm Christine."

  Snake's eyebrows shoot up as he makes the connection that she's the woman I spoke of Tuesday night. He recovers quickly, moving on to the available ladies.

  The sweet surrender of Christine's relaxed eyes as she focuses solely on me nearly knocks me back on the barstool. She's changed into a body-hugging white cotton dress and four-inch sandals. The silky brown curls are floating effortlessly along her shoulders as her scent of peonies entices me. I'm speechless.

  Snake walks around the table, introducing himself, Cyrus, and Ian. "What are you drinking ladies, allow me to buy you a round."

  The waitress takes our order as Snake turns on the charm. One of the girls giggles as he shows off his tattoo-covered biceps, my speech finally returning.

  "You look beautiful this evening, Dr. Fletcher," I say, placing a lingering kiss on her hand. Her blush says it all as she asks me to call her Christine.

  Ian and Cyrus line up three additional stools as our drinks arrive. "Thank you for joining us, ladies," Ian says. "Salude!"

  My eyes haven't left Christine's cheerful, open face. We clink glasses as the others engage in lively conversation, both of us enjoying some much needed off-duty intimacy.

  "Do you like your position at the center so far, Sergeant Hayes?"

  "Matthis, please call me Matthis." Her seductive spell is luring me in with every mesmerizing word.

  "Matthis," she says quietly, smiling directly into my heart.

  "I hope you'll be staying with us for more than a few weeks. I heard several of the soldiers this afternoon talking up your therapy and advice expertise. They've already taken quite a shine to you."

  My body responds to her subtle, seductive signals as she licks her lips, practically begging me to give her what we both want.

  Suddenly, a woman's shriek pierces the air. "Help! He's choking; he's choking!"

  I quickly release Christine's hand and rush across the room to an older man struggling to breathe. His face is turning red from lack of oxygen. I lift him from the booth and administer the Heimlich maneuver. With three expertly placed pulls, the half-chewed clogged rib meat hurls out of his mouth and splatters against the wall. He's breathing heavily, still bent over, as his wife throws her arms around me with gratitude in her eyes.

  "Thank you, sir, thank you. You saved my husband's life." She's crying tears of joy as I help him back into the booth and check his pulse. After a few minutes, his heart rate returns to normal, and I wish them well, walking back towards Christine.

  My rational mind is disintegrating. She meets me halfway across the room, throwing her arms around my neck and pulling my surprised mouth to hers. She kisses me passionately, my ego, and my appendage soaring. Lord have mercy; this is pure heaven. She pulls back slowly as cheers erupt around us. Perhaps for my heroic intervention, and the steamy lip-lock this hypnotizing woman laid on me for all to see.

  "Let's get out of here," she whispers in my ear. I have no idea why the undeserved miracle of this woman's desire for me has manifest, but I'm not going to waste a single moment.

  She retrieves her purse from the table and tells her girlfriends she'll call them tomorrow. The guys are barely able to resist giving me high fives and making congratulatory sexual remarks as I walk away from the table.

  I see Cyrus put his hand over Snake's sarcastic mouth. I owe him one.

  Christine is the best thing that's happened to me since I returned home, maybe since forever. I plan on showing her exactly how I feel, with my emotional words and my hardening body.

  "My apartment is close, we can walk," she says with hooded eyes, as the fresh air surrounds our overheating urges.

  "Fast walk, then," I reply, sweeping her up into my arms as she giggles with delight. I kiss her soundly until she becomes slightly off balance. The night air promises an experience of lust and passion. I'll give the good doctor anything she wants tonight.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  After five heart racing minutes, we arrive at her front door. The suggestive confidence she exudes is beyond attractive. I hope I can live up to her expectations, in and out of the bedroom.

  She takes my nervous hand, not bothering to turn on any lights, and leads me into her modern, clean apartment. We walk directly to the bedroom, a dimly lit bedside lamp glowing with an invitation to relax and explore. She gently places her delicate hands against my heaving chest, my mouth consuming her boldness. She breaks our embrace and motions me to sit down.

  "Order me to undress, Sergeant," she purrs, her luminous eyes shining with carnal invitation.

  "Remove your clothes, Maam," I command in a deep husky voice. "Slowly."

  She slides her fingers underneath her thin dress straps, pushing them down long, sculpted arms inch by inch. She reaches behind her as I hear the zipper slowly lowering, the dress revealing her perfect supple body. Our eyes lock with searing intensity. I'm enraptured.

  I lick my lips as the overflow of her full breasts comes into view, spilling from her lacey bra. My cock was hard when we got to the bedroom. Now it's becoming painful against the seam of my jeans. She continues to slide her hands along the sides of her body as the matching lacey panties are exposed. Fuck. She's blowing my mind, again.

  She steps graceful
ly out of her dress, taking extra time to tease me with her jiggling cleavage. The scent of desire, seduction, and peonies fills the air. Christine's confidence is the sexiest item she's wearing, her full sensuality on display only for my eyes.

  "What next, Sergeant," she says in a breathy voice. This roleplay is seriously turning her on. Fuck. Me.

  "Remove your bra and come closer." My hands reach out aggressively to pull her hips against my waist. I place a wet kiss on her torso, licking and nipping my way to her bouncy breasts. Her panting is as soft as her skin as I blow across her hardening nipples.

  "God, you're beautiful," I breath, my mouth closing around her right peak, my greedy left hand cupping her left breast. Her moan of pleasure shoots straight through my core. I feel the energy vibrating between us as I switch sides. The clenching of her hands on my shoulders and her increasingly unstable balance indicate she's struggling for composure. I want to see her come, to come undone, for me.