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“I didn’t take you up on the offer because I don’t want to be your project, Donovan.”
He frowned. “What are you talking about?”
She groaned and looked to the ceiling before stepping around the chair and sinking into it like her marionette strings had been cut. “I appreciate that you want to help. It’s your nature. It’s what you do—fix people’s sexual problems. Believe me, I’m the practical one, so I see the logic in your offer. But the more I’ve thought about it, the more I’ve realized that’s not what I want.”
She peered at him like he was supposed to understand, but he stayed quiet, mulling over the words, trying to make sense of them.
“I’ve waited this long, you know? I don’t want to sleep with someone because he’s helping me check off a to-do list so that I’m better at my job. I don’t want it to be a favor. I don’t want it to be a training exercise. If I did, I’d just contract Lane for some sessions.” She shook her head and stared off toward the window, her voice getting quieter. “I want it to be . . . I want it to be like Eli and Laura today.”
“Like Eli and Laura?” He couldn’t hide the incredulity from his voice.
“I mean, I know it was a bad idea for them, but at least it was real. Raw and dirty and desperate.” She glanced his way, her voice fervent. “They were so into it, they couldn’t bear to stop when we walked in. It was that intense. Primal, even. I want that. Not some sanitized, emotionless version where we check off boxes. Not some nice thing where we cover the basics like a goddamned instruction manual. I’ve spent years doing controlled experiments. I don’t want my sex life to be one, too.” She looked down at her lap, her jaw flexing, her fists curling. “And I definitely don’t want to be someone’s pity project.”
A sound of disbelief slipped out of him, the words raw and dirty and primal still knocking around in his head and making bells clang. The word emotion scared the fuck out of him, but the others were loud enough to drown that out. “Are you being serious right now? You think I offered what I did because I’m some kind of martyr or that thorough of a mentor or that I fucking pity you?”
Her attention flicked upward, her gaze steely. “You sleep with people you think are safe.”
“What?”
She swung her hand toward the door. “You and McCray hate each other. Yet, that’s who you picked to sleep with.”
He blinked. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“She was safe. No risk. And it may be for different reasons, but you see me the same way. We can check off a list nice and neat. Build up my sexual experience like a piece of freaking IKEA furniture. And on top of that, you can feel like you’re helping me. You can walk away with a clean conscience, feeling like you did me a favor. Yay for Dr. West. Another client helped. Thanks but no thanks.”
The words were like sharp little thorns burrowing into his skin. “Jesus, Rush. I don’t see it as a fucking favor. I’m not that much of a dick. And no risk? Are you kidding me right now?”
She gave a petulant shrug.
He almost laughed. She had no idea! No. Fucking. Idea. How she affected him. No clue that the Donovan she’d seen these past two weeks was some alternate universe version of himself. A doppelgänger that showed up on time and laughed and joked and walked around with this lightness he didn’t even recognize. She didn’t even know. He stood and put his arms out to his sides. “I almost risked my goddamned job earlier. Like threw away years of building this whole thing for one chance to have you. One damn chance. And I fucking like you. Like think-you’re-cool-as-shit like you. You’re nothing but risk, Rush. You’re like terror-threat-level risk.”
His voice echoed in the room after he was done, but she’d gone still and silent.
He let out a breath and raked a hand through his hair, his seams unraveling. “Look, I’ve been honest with you. You know you deserve more than what I can offer. Relationships . . . aren’t my thing. I’ve tried. I’m not that guy. So if that’s what you’re wanting, I’m sorry. I promise I will let you down. But I didn’t suggest the list to make things clinical. I suggested it because I thought you’d feel safer knowing what to expect. You don’t like going into sessions blind, so I figured you’d be the same when it came to this. But don’t think for one second that it was motivated by anything other than the fact that I want you in my bed, that I would kill to be the one to show you those things on that list, and that I haven’t been able to think about anything but getting my hands on you since you walked back into my life.”
She was staring at him like she’d never seen him before, with this odd wonder. But she still didn’t say a word, which sent him rambling on. Once he’d started, he couldn’t seem to fucking stop.
“And we already know we have what Eli and Laura had in spades. Do you really think we’re capable of having mediocre, to-do list sex?” He took the chair next to her and spun it so he could sit down facing her. “We kissed last week and our clothes almost caught on fire. We’ve got chemistry, Rush. And if you think I’m doing this as a favor and that I don’t crave exactly that kind of rawness that you’re talking about, you haven’t been paying attention. I’m happy to take things slow since you’re new to so much. But that doesn’t mean I don’t think about hauling you up against a wall, hiking your skirt up, and fucking you like I own you. I think about it. I think about it. All. The. Fucking. Time.”
Her neck had gone rosy red while he was talking, the flush creeping up, her breath quickening. He’d seen her reactions enough to know this time it wasn’t embarrassment. She was picturing what he’d said, she was imagining him taking her. Knowing that settled something inside of him, put him back on a playing field he felt more comfortable on instead of feeling stripped down to the studs there in front of her.
He lowered his voice. “So you need to tell me what you want. Do you want to do this or do you want me to leave you alone?”
Her throat worked as she swallowed, but she didn’t look away. For a moment, he thought she wasn’t going to answer at all, that she was just going to get up and walk out. Leave him hanging again. But finally she said, “I think about it all the time, too. I can’t stop thinking about it.”
The air he’d puffed up with during his declarations sagged out of him in a long exhalation. Thank God. Thank. God.
He couldn’t stop himself after that. He spread his knees and pulled her legs in between his, her chair dragging loudly against the floor, and then he kissed her. Kissed her like he’d been wanting to since that day in the office, carding his hands through that silky hair and holding her right where he wanted her, drinking from her, all that desire, all that frustration pouring into the connection.
She whimpered into his mouth, a pleading, unraveled sound, and all he could think of was getting her onto his lap, of her straddling him, of tugging away these clothes and getting her to make more of those noises. He wanted to find every thread lacing her up and undo her until she was all feeling and response and sweet need. Until she was his. He gripped her skull, fighting off that blinding need to take more, to take it too far, to take it all. But his body was responding and his heart was pounding and the taste of her on his tongue was driving him over the edge.
His mind playing one message over and over in his head. This. Yes. This.
But just when he was about to lose all semblance of his control, she planted her palms against his chest and eased him back. “Donovan, wait—”
She was breathless, her nipples pressing hard against her shirt and her lips puffy, but her eyes were focused. That potent hazel stare broke through some of the insanity coursing through him, that single-minded instinct to claim her. He took in a breath and nodded. “Right. We’re at work.”
She rubbed her lips together. “And I haven’t said yes yet.”
