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Marin moaned when he parted her lips to deepen the kiss, and a swift rush of arousal flooded her, making the neglected parts of her throb and ache. His tongue stroked hers, teasing with a rhythm she could only imagine in other places. Her nipples became hard points, straining for touch, and her sex pulsed between her thighs. She wanted to rub herself on him like a cat, find relief. He seemed ready to oblige. Donovan backed her into the wall, his body aligning with hers and his hand sliding down to knead her hip like he was barely restraining himself from tearing off her clothes. Heat against heat, hardness growing against her belly. She was dying. She needed this. God, did she need this.
But a swift knock sounded behind him, shattering the protected moment and blasting through her lust-drunk brain. Marin gasped, and Donovan jumped back and dropped his hands to his sides like she had burned him.
The door swung open, and Ysa poked her head in. “Hey, guys I—” Her words faded as her gaze bounced between them. “Uh, sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Poker face. Poker face. Poker face. Marin pushed off the wall and fought hard to look like everything was fine even though her cheeks were burning hot, her lips slick, and her body pulsing in time with her frantic heartbeat. She had a feeling she was failing miserably at pulling it off. They may as well have a neon sign above their heads that read In Flagrante Delicto.
Donovan, on the other hand, owner of the world’s most impenetrable therapist mask, looked cool and unaffected as he tucked his hands in his pockets, presumably to hide his burgeoning hard-on, and looked at Ysa. “Not interrupting. What’s up?”
Ysa glanced between the two of them again but kept her thoughts to herself. “Just wanted to let you know your nine-thirty is here.”
Marin gave her a quick, tight smile. “Thanks. We’re on our way.”
Ysa gave them one last questioning look, then shook her head and disappeared back out into the hallway. When the door shut, Marin put her hands over her face and groaned. “Son of a bitch. Now there’s more grist for Dr. McCray’s rumor mill. I cannot believe I just did that. Here. With you.”
Donovan stepped into her space again and took her wrists in his hands, gently tugging them away from her face. “Take a breath. It’s okay. Ysa didn’t see anything. And even if she figured it out, she would never say anything to anyone. We could be screwing like rabbits in between sessions, and Ysa wouldn’t care as long as we were on time for our appointments and taking good care of the clients. You can trust her. She’s good people and loyal to me.”
But Marin hardly heard any of it with her head spinning and anxiety rushing through her. “God, how could I be so stupid? I don’t know what I was thinking. I just—”
“It’s not your fault, Marin,” he said, his voice gentle. “I crossed the line first.” His mouth hitched up. “Plus, I should know not to stand that close to a woman who spent all night watching porn.”
A sharp laugh burst out of her, her nerves bubbling up and out. “Right. I’m bound to grab anyone within reach to use for my lecherous purposes.”
Donovan looked down at her for a long second, some of that heat from earlier returning, burning her slowly. His hands flexed around her wrists. “I wouldn’t mind being used by you, Marin.”
Her stomach dipped.
“I didn’t make the offer last night because it would’ve been a selfish move. And a risk. But I want you in my bed. Know that. It’s not altruistic. Or professional. And it’s out of line.” His voice was like water gliding along her skin—smooth, clear, quietly powerful. He lifted her hand and flattened it against his chest over the inner pocket of his jacket. “But if you decide you might want that anyway, know there isn’t a thing on this list that I wouldn’t love to check off for you. Completely and thoroughly. I could make you shameless, Rush.”
She could barely hear him over the roaring sound in her ears. How the hell was she supposed to form words after that?
He released her hands and stepped back but kept her pinned beneath that white-hot gaze. “So if you ever need me . . . off the clock, you just have to ask. And if you want me to go to hell and steer clear, that’s all you’ve got to say, too. It’s your call.”
Everything inside her was buzzing. Her mind had gotten hung up on the words completely and thoroughly. He wasn’t going to pressure her, but the look in his eye said he could rock her celibate world right off its fucking axis. The temptation was like a bright, glittering thing blurring her vision.
But taking that offer would come with a price. Keeping things secret. The risk of being caught. And there would be a time limit. He didn’t do relationships. This would just be sex.
Really hot, really intense sex. She had no doubt that was the only brand he subscribed to.
Part of her—okay, all of her—wanted to surrender to the need coursing through her. But they were at work. Her mind was scrambled, and her hormones were staging a coup to take over her executive decision-making faculties. This was neither the time nor the place. She swallowed past the knot in her throat, channeling that part of her she’d honed over the years, the part that kept her from chasing whims like her mother had, the part that knew bright-and-shinies were dangerous, that men like Donovan were dangerous. “We better get going or we’re going to be late.”
Donovan gave her a long look but then nodded and tucked his hands in his pockets, professional composure sliding back over him like an elegant costume. “Of course. Let’s go, Dr. Rush.”
16
Donovan’s feet pounded against the pavement with quiet thumps as the first pink-gold light of sunrise started to push at the edges of The Grove. He had his earbuds tucked in his ears but no music was on. He’d just worn them to avoid any unnecessary conversation if he came across anyone.
Thump. Thump. Thump. His heartbeat was loud in his ears, keeping time with his feet. He could hear his breath soughing in and out of his chest. It’d been a long damn time since he was out this early, and he’d forgotten how alive and quiet the grounds could be at this time. He should do this more. This felt good. Cleansing. Better than lying in bed awake and letting his mind go to the endless loop of shit it liked to play when his brain got too tired to keep the bad stuff locked in the basement.
Usually he didn’t fall asleep until well into the night, insomnia an ever-present companion. He was used to that. Knew that eventually his body would surrender or he’d give in and take a sleeping pill—though he hated those because it often made him sleep through his alarm clock and feel groggy. But the last few nights, even those hard-fought hours of fitful sleep had been elusive. So this morning when the clock had rolled over to five, he’d gotten up and dug out his running gear.
If his thoughts were going to stalk him, he’d just run faster than they could keep up.
But half an hour into his run, his mind continued to drift to Marin. He’d made her the offer to check off her list days ago. That stupid, dangerous offer. He prided himself on his self-control, on moderating his emotions, on making a plan and sticking to it. He’d survived this long sticking to that method. But when Marin had kissed him in the office, every ounce of good sense he possessed had gotten packed up in a box and tossed out the door. He’d wanted her. Everything else, all the potential consequences and catastrophes, had been lost in the sheer velocity of need that had swept over him.
And the suggestion had burst out of him like something else had taken possession of his voice. He needed to take it back. Undo the mess.
But he hadn’t been able to bring himself to do it. Every time he attempted, the retraction wouldn’t come out. He’d just want to make the offer all over again.
