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“You sure know how to knock a man on his ass. That’s . . .”
“I mean, unless you’ve already gone there with . . . other women and that’s not exciting for you anymore.” Her voice was hesitant for the first time in a while.
He hated that she even had to think of it. Hated that his relationship with Elle had been tossed in her face or that she had to think about other women at all. He took her hand and guided it up his thigh until they reached his very obvious erection. She sucked in a breath.
“This is how non-exciting I find it.”
Her eyes widened, and her fingers curled around him. Her warm grip was like fucking heaven even through his slacks. She slid her hand along his length, tentatively mapping him.
He closed his eyes and breathed through the surge of arousal. He fitted his hand against hers when she moved to stroke him again. After the restraint required over the last two weeks, he didn’t trust himself not to go off like a teenager. He lifted her hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to her knuckles as he met her gaze. “I’m sorry that the Elle thing is here between us, that you have to think about that at all. But hear this. Whatever happens between you and me is not a repeat of that or a substitution or a consolation prize. There’s no reason to compare the two situations. They’re completely different. I don’t hate Elle. But we weren’t friends and won’t be. We’re two workaholics who served a basic need for each other. We didn’t have long chats. We didn’t hang out. We didn’t even hug good-bye.”
She looked down at their linked hands. “You don’t have to explain yourself. Your past relationships are your business.”
“I’m telling you because I need you to know that nothing about you is going to be been-there-done-that for me.” He brushed his thumb over the top of her hand. “You make everything new. Have from the start.”
She looked up at that.
It was a thought he normally wouldn’t have shared. It cut a little too close. But he’d promised her he’d be honest, so he fought past the filters he usually kept in place. “You cut me off at the knees with a kiss. I can’t even imagine how hot exploring fantasies with you will be.”
The slow smile she gave him was like sunlight breaking through clouds, sending a strange, pleasant warmth moving through him—one that had nothing to do with the iron state of his dick. He liked that he’d put that smile there on her face. He wanted to kiss it off of her. “What are you so pleased about, Rush?”
She leaned forward, smile still in place, and tapped his cheek. “Now look who’s blushing.”
He straightened. “What? I am definitely not. I don’t blush.”
Her grin went wide and she slipped her hand from his. “Shall I grab my phone to document this rare occasion?”
He grabbed her wrist before she could reach for the phone she’d left sitting two chairs away. “Don’t you dare.”
Her gaze sparked at his grip, sexy challenge there.
That’s when he knew there was no going back. This was going to happen. Marin wanted him in her bed—to teach, to explore, to show her things she’d only fantasized about. She wanted raw, gritty sex. And she wanted to do it with him. Holy fucking gift from above.
He didn’t deserve the luck or that level of trust from her, but he was damn sure going to figure out how to be worthy of it. He let his gaze drift over her. Despite her bold gaze, she was holding her breath. He liked that. No. Loved that. Knowing he could affect her, knowing he could turn her on with a simple touch. It wasn’t practiced or put on. It was honest and real.
He pulled her closer and let the fingertips of his other hand slide over the nape of her neck. Usually he gravitated toward women with long hair, but Marin’s wispy cut had drawn his eye from the
moment he’d seen her in the parking lot. He’d since pictured running his tongue along her bared neck and gripping the silky, dark hairs in his fist when she was on her knees for him. He drew a circle with his fingertip on her nape, earning him a shiver. “So we’re doing this?”
“Looks like it.”
He kept making those circles on her neck, enjoying the way her pupils grew wider, darkened. “Are you making a sex brain decision, Dr. Rush?”
She smoothed her lip gloss. “Probably. I’m not sure how to tell anymore.”
He stared down at her. “There’s one way to find out.”
Her brow wrinkled.
He bent forward, closed his eyes, and brushed his lips against her ear.
“I watch you across the room,” he said, sliding into the tone he used to use for the recordings.
She made a noise in the back of her throat.
He loved that sound. Wanted to hear it again. Wanted to imagine her making it when she’d listened to his recordings in the dark of her bedroom. How many times had she touched herself with his voice in her ear, his dark fantasies in her head? The thought pushed so many of his buttons, he lost count.
He hadn’t done recordings in ages. The ones that had gotten published were decidedly milder than the versions from college. More vanilla. More commercial. Not him. And he’d never used that style of dirty talk or the scripts in real life. Women had asked. He’d hated when they’d asked—felt like a hired monkey being asked to perform.
