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He didn’t relent. The brow only went higher.
“Goddammit.” She looked to the sky. “Of course I do it. You know that. You’ve seen me.”
He tapped her cheek. “Look at you. An admission to something personal and no blush. Progress.”
She ignored him and took another sip of wine. She had a feeling she was going to need all the alcohol-laced fortitude she could get.
“Here’s let’s try another,” he said. “Those fantasies you helped me with in college? Many were personal ones of mine. I like playing games of control in the bedroom and enjoy kinky sex. It’s what drew me to this field in the first place. I wanted to know why I gravitated to that.”
Marin’s belly tightened. Her free hand curled around the edge of the bench as she remembered those fantasies she’d listened to, his voice narrating, how so many of those fantasies had intertwined with hers. “Donovan . . .”
“Now. Ask me a question. Pretend I’m a client telling you that.”
Marin couldn’t look his way. The pictures in her head were too much. Too loud. And the last thing she felt was embarrassment. But she took a breath, steeling herself, and let it out. “So does that mean you’re a dominant?”
“Good question. I wouldn’t label myself that. I work closely with a BDSM group in New Orleans and offer reduced rates for their members since it’s hard for people to find kink-friendly therapists. So I have clients in the lifestyle and have studied it. But in my personal life, I don’t really take it to that level. I’m more flexible about the dynamics. I enjoy games, role-plays, power exchange for the thrill of it. A lot less formal than D/s.”
She cleared her throat and shifted on the bench. “Okay.”
“Now, it’s your turn. Claim something of your own. No shame. What do you like, Marin?”
The question slid through her, making her want to run. “I don’t know.”
He lifted his cup and nodded at her in a you-can-do-it motion. “You don’t have to be scared. Think of all the things I’ve heard in this job. I’m unshockable.”
“I doubt that.”
His lips lifted at the corner, bordering on smug. “You really think you have something that scandalous?”
The wine and the conversation were making her nerves edgy but her thoughts slower. “Maybe.”
“Well, now you’ve got me intrigued, Rush.”
She shook her head. This was not a conversation they should be having. She would never have done this with any other co-worker, but somehow from the very beginning, Donovan always had this truth serum effect on her. He’d gotten her to talk about fantasies when she’d barely been able to say them aloud to herself. And now she found herself wanting to confess again. She didn’t want to carry this around every day that she was training on this job. She didn’t want to blush and feel uncomfortable every time someone said something surprising.
“All right.” She downed the rest of her wine and then looked out toward the dark silhouettes of the gnarled oak trees. The cicadas had gone full throttle now, and the sky had turned from orange to silvery purple. Night in the bayou reclaiming its land. An otherworldly place where secrets almost seemed safe. She forced the words out. “I don’t know what I like because since you last saw me, I’ve been raising my little brother and trying to graduate and keep a roof over our heads. There was no time for anything else. No time for dating and certainly no time for sex. Bianca has more experience than I do.”
The words drifted on the night air, mixing in with the bubbling of the fountain and the thick breeze. Donovan didn’t say anything, and Marin couldn’t bring herself to look his way. She kept her hands clasped around her cup and her eyes on the changing horizon.
The silence stretched on too long, and unease curled around her like choking vines, her throat tightening. The crush of anxiety sent her to her feet. “I told you this was a bad idea. I’ve gotta get going.”
Donovan’s hand shot out like a striking snake and grasped her arm, urging her back down. “No, please, don’t. I’m sorry. I’m just . . . taking that in.”
Her butt hit the bench again, and she ventured a peek his way. “Looks like I shocked Mr. Unshockable.”
He stared at her, his gaze searching. “Are you telling me you haven’t—”
“No. Not since you.”
Deep lines appeared in his forehead, like he couldn’t understand her words. “I— It’s been nine years, Marin. You’re saying . . .”
“Yep.”
Wonder filled his face, like she’d revealed she was really a life-form from another planet, but concern quickly replaced it. “What the hell happened?”
She set her cup aside with a sigh. She hadn’t wanted to get into this with him—ever. But she knew there was no backing off of it now.
“The short version is that everything in my life exploded that night we were together. My mom had suffered from severe bipolar disorder for most of my life, but that night she had a psychotic break. She’d been recovering from a bad breakup with a guy and had been faking taking her meds. I thought she was stable, but she was on the verge and something triggered her that night.” She stared at her hands, worked the ring she wore on her right index finger off and on. “Probably me. I was supposed to stay home, but we got in an argument, and I spent the night with you instead. Nate said that after I left she started drinking and got paranoid, talking about everyone leaving her, that she was going to die alone.” Marin looked out into the night, not seeing it, the horrible scene vivid in her imagination even though she hadn’t been there. Hearing her little brother describe it had imprinted the images on her brain like it was her own memory. “So she decided she wouldn’t die alone. She’d take someone with her.” She peered over at Donovan. “By the time I got home, she’d attacked my brother with a kitchen knife and had slit her wrists.”
