by Roni Loren
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.
The only thing that had saved him so far was that Marin had the smarts to ignore the offer completely. And to his surprise, they’d had a great week despite the disastrous start. She’d thrown herself fully into the training, her mind like an ever-hungry maw, always wanting more knowledge, always wanting to get it right. When she was like that, so eager and enthusiastic, he could forget about the other stuff for a while. Her thirst for learning set off the psych nerd in him. He liked teaching her.
And she made him laugh—something that felt rusty and foreign to him. He loved his job, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually had fun at work. Despite the heavy issues they dealt with in session with clients, Marin was quick to smile and joke around with him and Ysa between appointments. When she’d had success co-leading a couples session with him yesterday, she’d actually done a little victory dance in the hallway after the clients had left. There may have been a Heisman pose involved. Ysa may have broken out a raise-the-roof move. They may have convinced him to join in.
But despite Marin’s great attitude and not one word about the kiss, he’d caught her in quieter times looking at him when she thought he wasn’t paying attention. He’d caught smoky eyes and pensive stares. He’d seen her blush outside of sessions like she’d been thinking something particularly scandalous. She hadn’t forgotten that kiss. But she’d gone on like nothing had happen
ed.
That was good.
He was telling himself it was good.
But it was keeping him awake at night. Stalking him. Temptation whispering in his ear.
He needed to let it lie.
He wanted her so much it fucking hurt.
He ran harder, hard enough to make his lungs burn and the breeze whip his face. Hard enough to quell the surge of desire he got every time he thought of Marin.
And he’d almost outrun the thoughts when the sound of more feet on pavement distracted him. He turned his head to find Ysa only a few steps behind him. Her cheeks were puffing out as she tried to catch up.
Donovan forced himself to not make a face. He adored Ysa. She was one of his few friends at The Grove, but right now he wasn’t fit for company.
“Jesus. Freaking. Christ,” Ysa said between pants. “Slow. The hell. Down.”
Donovan considered telling her he’d chat with her at work, that he was trying to beat some imaginary time for his run, but she’d see right through it. Ysa’s bullshit meter was pretty spot-on. Plus, even he couldn’t keep up this speed for much longer. His body was about to stage a strike, his muscles threatening to cramp. He pulled out his earbuds and eased back on his sprint.
Ysa caught up and sent him a disbelieving look. “Are you running from a rabid dog or something? Serial killer? Evil clowns?”
Their footsteps synched up as they rounded the corner at the back of the children’s building. He feigned innocence. “Was I going that fast?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t give me that. I come out here to run every morning, and I may be five seconds from dying right now.”
He looked forward, focusing on the path. “You didn’t have to catch up.”
“And miss the chance to jog next to and annoy my lovely boss? As if I’d pass that up.” She flashed a grin in his peripheral vision. “Plus, I should document this occasion. Look how early you’re awake!”
Donovan didn’t say anything. Ysa had no idea he barely slept, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to share that tidbit. “I’m trying to ensure your promotion. I’ve been on time the last few days.”
They took a turn by the pond, and a crane that had been lazily poking at the grass near the water’s edge looked up as they passed, apparently annoyed they’d interrupted his private breakfast. Ysa tipped her chin up. “Uh-huh. Of course you are. I’m sure it has nothing to do with impressing the new hot doctor you’re training.”
Donovan’s rhythm faltered for a second, but he managed to recover without being too obvious. “Not very professional to call your colleague hot, Ysa.”
She let out a laugh, her breath still labored. “Oh, and it’s professional to do whatever y’all were doing when I walked in the other day?”
The words made Donovan’s muscles tense. He slowed his step, worry moving through him. “Ysa.”
She slowed along with him and stopped when he stopped. The crane flapped its wings and flew off with a flourish. Ysa put her hands on her hips, bending over a bit as she caught her breath, but her eyes were on him. “Seriously. Don’t freak out. We’re good.”
Donovan’s T-shirt was clinging to him, sweat rolling down his back, but his heart was pounding from something other than exertion now. “Ysa, you can’t—”
She lifted a hand. “Dude, I wouldn’t. I’d never say anything. Come on, you know me better than that. I didn’t even see anything per se. Y’all just had caught written all over you both. And I see how you two look at each other. I’ve been the victim of lust at first sight before. I get it. Believe me.”
Donovan grabbed the edge of his T-shirt and wiped the sweat from his face, his eyes burning from it. He considered lying to Ysa, but that’d only make it worse. She was being upfront with him, so he needed to do the same. She’d keep his secret if he was honest. “It’s not exactly that. We knew each other a long time ago. Had a brief thing.”
Ysa’s dark brow arched. “Whoa. History. Does Suri know?”
“No. No one does. And it needs to stay that way. Nothing’s going to happen. What you walked in on was . . . a lapse in judgment. Neither of us wants to mess with our jobs.”
Ysa pulled a bottle of water from the belt around her waist and took a long sip, eyeing him. “So don’t get caught.”
He frowned. “What?”
She shrugged. “Remember that pretty redhead that worked in the teen unit last summer? She was doing an internship?”
“Vaguely,” he said, not remembering at all.
“I hooked up with her all summer. No one ever had a clue we were seeing each other. You just have to be smart about it.” She sniffed. “And Lord knows, you at least have that going for you.”
He smirked. “At least?”
“I mean, I suppose you’re also reasonably good-looking if you’re into that kind of thing.”
“That would’ve meant more if you hadn’t rolled your eyes while you said it,” Donovan teased. He fished his own water out of the pack he’d strapped to his back and downed half of it. “But this is a different situation. Getting together with someone in another department is one thing. But I’m working with Dr. Rush every day. I’m training her. It’s high risk. Not worth it.”
She closed the cap on her water. “If you say so. I’m not the masochistic sort. I’d get that shit out of my system. Otherwise, think how many years of torture it could be working together with all that unfulfilled lusting? That can’t be healthy.”
Donovan had to fight the grimace. He hadn’t thought about it that way. He’d thought about how tortuous it would be to work together after things ended or went bad. Because of course they would. They always did. He made sure of it. But he hadn’t considered feeling like he was right now long-term, getting that tug in his gut anytime he was near Marin, thinking thoughts he had no business thinking at work. Not sleeping at night because fantasies of her would drift into his mind and not relent until he put his hands on himself. Fuck.
“You’re a ray of frigging sunshine, Ysa.”
She gave him a sparkling grin. “I know, right?”
He groaned and turned to start running again, needing to move, needing to get these thoughts out of his head. Outrun the temptation. Outrun it all.
Ysa fell into step beside him. Staying quiet for a while but her presence loud.
Donovan gritted his teeth. “Why are you encouraging this? I thought you’d be the first one to tell me to back the hell off and not mess around with our jobs.”
Ysa didn’t look his way. She just kept pumping her arms and keeping pace. “You’re a good boss, doc. And a good guy. But you can be . . . intense. Grim. You’ve been different since Dr. Rush came around. I like it.” She gave him a quick glance. “Everybody deserves something or someone that makes them feel alive every now and then. Even you.”
At that, she took a sharp right and veered onto another path, leaving him grinding to a halt and staring after her.
So much for the morning run clearing his head.
He should’ve run faster.
He had a feeling he’d never be able to run fast enough.
17
During her lunch break on Friday, Marin grabbed a cupcake off the dessert station as a reward for making it through her first two weeks and for managing to keep her hands off Donovan after their kiss in her office that second day. To Donovan’s credit, he hadn’t brought up anything and had acted like the conversation and kiss hadn’t happened. He’d mentored her in sessions, walked her through a few tough cases, and had been generally a helpful, professional trainer. They were developing a good, solid working relationship.
It was driving her mad. Clearly, he hadn’t been as affected by that kiss because she definitely hadn’t been able to shake it off so easily. How was she supposed to sit in sessions with him, listening to people talk about sex, seeing him wearing those suits, and dishing out brilliant advice in that voice of his, and not think about the fact that he’d said he wanted her in his bed? Not think about his erection pressing
into her hip or him saying that he’d check off every box on that kinky list for her with enthusiasm?
She’d reverted to being that girl in the back row crushing on the TA. How the hell had she been reduced back to that? So not acceptable.
She slid into a chair at an empty table and set her tray down with more force than necessary, rattling the silverware. Lack of sex was how this had happened. Sex was like sugar. When you cut it out of your diet, you hit a point where you stopped craving it altogether. But as soon as you ate that one little Skittle or licked some icing off a spoon, all you could think about were Skittles and icing. Or naked skin and tangled sheets as the case may be.
She couldn’t think about anything else when she was around Donovan now. Even the simplest thing—Donovan twirling a pen between dexterous fingers, Donovan licking an envelope, Donovan chewing his lip when he was thinking hard about a case. All of it would lead to porn-worthy images in her mind. She was like a teenage boy hyped up on testosterone. She needed a goddamned intervention.
She’d tried to take care of things herself this past week, researching some of the brands of vibrators they kept stocked. But if anything, the nightly orgasm had only amped her up more, making her want the real thing. She was craving more than a release. She was craving experience. With him.
Oriana slid into the spot across from her and plopped her tray down, breaking Marin from her swirling thoughts. “God, I’m so glad it’s lunchtime. Thanks for saving me a spot.”
Marin looked up and glanced around the empty table. “Well, it was a lot of work. I did have to give a few band kids the evil eye, and I think I pissed off Brittany from the cheerleading squad.”
Ori laughed. “Right? Seriously. This place does feel like high school sometimes—or hell. Though, there’s little difference between the two I think.”
“Tough morning?”
