Off the Clock

by Roni Loren

Her breath was a gust of air against his hair. “Shit.”

  He massaged her neck and pressed his nose to her hair. “Are you wet, Marin?”

  He could sense her tense, hesitate, but then her muscles softened beneath his fingertips. “Why are you asking questions you already know the answer to?”

  It took everything he had not to drag her to his office, take her right there. But he forced himself to lean back, to look at her. To see the naked lust on her face and not let himself off the leash.

  “If we’re going to do this, I want to know you’re choosing it with a clear head. I don’t want to be your Eli.” He let his hand slip away from her. “So go home, use one of those toys you’re researching. Give yourself that relief. And then if you’re still feeling the way you do now, if you still want to do this, meet me at my place at seven tonight. I’ll make some dinner and we can . . . hang out.”

  “Hang out?” she asked, her voice strained, like it was taking everything she had to focus on the conversation. “Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”

  “Yes. We’ll eat, talk. We don’t have to force this. Put us in the same room, and I think we’ll be all right.”

  “You don’t hang out with the women you sleep with.”

  She said it like a statement of fact. He hadn’t told her that explicitly. But she said it like she could read the truth about him as easy as picking up a book. And she was right. This was uncharted territory for him. He hadn’t had a “date” since he’d broken his engagement. He had roller-coaster stomach just thinking about it. “I hang out with you every day, Rush. I think I can handle it.”

  “Right. Okay.” She scooted her chair back, like she needed to break that touch between them, but he helped her get to her feet before standing up with her. She smoothed her skirt and seemed to regain some of her calm. “You don’t have to feed me. I can come over later.”

  He frowned, not liking that she was setting such a low bar for him already. He reached out and tipped her chin up. “Let’s get something straight, Rush. I’ve agreed to your terms, but here are mine. If you come over, you’re putting yourself in my hands. That’s the deal. And I will feed you if I want and taste you how I like and make you come in more ways than you can think of before this is all over with. So just be on time, bring your appetite, and I’ll worry about the rest, all right?”

  The whoosh of her breath was all he needed. He pressed a quick kiss to her mouth and released her. “See you later, Dr. Rush.”

  He walked out first, ignoring his throbbing erection and his pinging nerves, leaving her standing there in the group room alone.

  He had to force himself not to look back.

  To not think too hard about the deal he’d just made.

  Marin would be in his bed tonight. That’s all that mattered. He’d figure out the rest later.

  20

  Marin was so distracted when she walked into the house after work that she managed to drop the mail, her work file, and her keys before she’d made it into the kitchen. Everything felt off balance, skewed. Like there were no straight lines to count on anymore. She didn’t know where the next step would lead. Maybe to someplace amazing. Maybe off a damn cliff. But right now, it was going to lead her right upstairs to put out the fire Donovan had stoked when he’d whispered in her ear with those words, that voice. Her blood was still pumping so hard, it felt like it was going to burst right out of her skin.

  “Hey. Need some help?” Nate asked.

  Hearing her brother’s voice was like a harsh record scratch scraping through her brain. She’d been lost in thinking about Donovan, and Nate’s voice ringing through that was like a bucket of ice over her head, making her feel like she’d been caught—like he could tell she’d been thinking about hot kisses and spread thighs.

  She fought to find her voice, to keep it even.

  “No, I’ve got it. I thought you’d already left for work. I didn’t see your bike.” Marin dropped the precariously balanced pile of crap onto the counter and looked up to find Nathan at the table with a pink-haired girl. “Oh, sorry, didn’t realize you had company.”

  Great. Even better. Now she wouldn’t be able to escape.

  “I parked the bike out back. You okay? You’re all red.”

  Fuck her fair skin. Fuck it and all the ancestors who passed this affliction along. “I’m fine. It’s gotten pretty warm outside.”

  “Oh.” Nate jabbed a thumb the girl’s way. “This is Blaine. She volunteers in the kids’ wing a few days a week. She saw me painting out by the pond and wanted to check out some of my stuff. She’s an artist, too—makes jewelry.”

  Blaine gave a little wave and a smile. “Hiya.”

  “Blaine, this is my sister, Marin. Or Dr. Rush, I guess, if you see her at work.”

  Marin’s mind was going in ten different directions, and she had the instinct to say, Blaine? Her name is Blaine? But she knew the movie quote from Pretty in Pink would be lost on these two. “Nice to meet you.”

  “I don’t have to be in until late tonight,” Nate said. “Blaine was going to hang out for a while. Are you cooking?”

  “Uh . . .” Originally, Marin had planned on fixing pasta tonight, but now she had other things that were more urgent. And a date. Well, no, not a date. Sex. She had sex planned. Sex with Donovan West. Oh, God. Or maybe she didn’t. She really had no idea how much or how little would happen tonight. She’d thought she’d gotten control of the situation, and then Donovan had shot all that to hell. He’d wrested back the steering wheel with smooth grace and dirty words, taking control over her body and the plan. But either way, she had no idea what to tell Nate. They hadn’t gone down this road before.

  “Earth to Mar,” he said. “You sure you’re okay?”

  “Um, oh yeah, sorry. There are pizza coupons somewhere in this stack of mail. I’ll leave you money, and y’all can order what you want. I . . . I’m going out tonight.”

  There, that was vague enough.

  Nate’s eyebrows crept up. “You’re going out? Like out?”

  Marin brushed her bangs out of her eyes. “Yes. Alert the media. Woman goes somewhere other than home or work.”

  Blaine smiled Nathan’s way. “Pizza sounds great. Thanks, Dr. Rush.”

  But Nate didn’t seem to hear her. He was still staring at Marin like she’d announced she was venturing to Mars for the evening. “Is it with a guy?”

  Marin rifled through the mail and found the sheet of pizza coupons, pretending not to hear Nate’s question. She tugged them out of the stack and set them on the table in front of him. “I’ve heard this place is good. Local joint. Good prices.”

  “Ohmigod, their pizza is the best,” Blaine said. “They have a seafood pizza with this white sauce that is uh-mazing.”

  Marin appreciated the girl’s attempt at getting Nate out of interrogator mode. Nate was still giving Marin a weird look but didn’t ask his question again. “Yeah, thanks. Pizza works.”

  “Great.” Marin left them to it, not wanting to field any more looks from Nate, and went upstairs. Five minutes into her shower, she had her head tipped back against the wall and her body coasting down from the almost instantaneous orgasm. She hadn’t needed a toy. Her fingers and Donovan’s words replaying in her head had been enough. And though she’d been taken aback that he’d instructed her to do it, this had been a good idea. She was so keyed up that she wouldn’t have been able to function tonight. But the quick release was like eating an appetizer when you really wanted a seven-course meal. It curbed the immediate need but in the long run, it’d only made her hungrier.

  But as her body came down from the high and she washed her hair, reality started to settle in. Doubts hot on its heels. Her sex brain had cleared, and now she was forced to look at this rationally. She was fooling around with a co-worker. She was about to start a sexual relationship with him—albeit a temporary one. Things could go so very wrong. They could get caught. They could create issues in their working relationship. She could
. . . get attached.

  No. She rinsed her hair, climbed out of the shower, and toweled off. She was not going to worry about that last one. She’d asked for him to be himself with her, and she was going to grant him the same. Getting a little attached was probably going to be part of the deal for her. That’s how she was wired. So what. She’d had feelings for him the last time and had survived walking away. What had made it so intense and real was that she hadn’t locked that down. If she wanted to shut off emotion from this, she could’ve taken his offer of doing the list and let him be Mr. Smooth Playboy with her. That held no appeal.

  This would end in a month. She’d set that up. But she wasn’t going to focus on the end. You don’t go on vacation only to fixate on what it’s going to be like when you return to work. You open up and enjoy every moment while you’re there.

  She’d waited a long time and was damn well going to enjoy this. She wasn’t looking for love or a serious relationship. She wanted her feet solidly under her, Nate off to school, and a long-term job before she could even think about looking to date someone in that capacity. Plus, love is what had always gotten her mother in trouble. Men had been the most effective way to derail her mom. Things would be going okay, and then her mom would fall for some guy and lose sight of everything else. It’d be great for a while and then the dude would leave or cheat or some drama, and her mother would completely fall apart. Her mom always bet on forever. The manic side of her full of unchecked hope. Each guy was going to be the answer—The One. Until he wasn’t.

  Maybe Donovan had been right about the danger of that concept after all. Her mom pinned her hopes on The One and then crashed when it didn’t come to fruition. Each time was a fresh tragedy. That’s what her mom had been going through before she’d killed herself. She’d snapped over some guy. Some random guy who Marin had never even met.

  The thought of losing herself like that over anyone scared the shit out of her. She could see how it could happen. That rush she got today with Donovan was potent—a drug mainlined right into her system. But you can’t tie your ship to another floating thing. It could sink and take you down with it. She didn’t need that. Wouldn’t risk it. But being with someone she enjoyed spending time with, someone who could be a lover and a friend? That was damn appealing. She could share the ocean with him without throwing down anchor.

  Her phone buzzed against the bathroom counter as she was finishing up. She grabbed it and wiped steam from the screen, finding a text from Donovan.

  Donovan: Take the walking path along the trees instead of the main road. House with black shutters is mine. Knock on the back door. Secret code word will be sent in invisible ink. This text will self-destruct in 5, 4 . . .

  She smiled, relieved that he wasn’t taking this too seriously, and her thumbs moved over the screen.

  Marin: What? No ladder to your window? My Joey is very disappointed in your Dawson.

  Donovan: There is also no creek or potential love triangle. #DawsonFail.

  Marin: Not sure if I’m impressed or scared that you caught that random pop culture reference.

  Donovan: I was in HS when that show was big. What’s your excuse?

  Marin: Caught a marathon when I had the flu a few yrs ago. Promptly became obsessed.

  Donovan: As you do. #TeamPacey

  She laughed, the ridiculous exchange easing some of her nerves.

  Marin: I was wrong. You are a dork. Need me to bring anything?

  Donovan: Spiked heels, head-to-toe vinyl, and a vat of Crisco.

  She blinked, and her phone buzzed again.

  Donovan: For me, of course. I look great in vinyl and my shoe size is 13.

  She snorted and caught her reflection in the mirror, surprised at the bright-eyed, smiling woman looking back at her. This is what Donovan used to do to her—make her forget anything but the moment. That guy was still in there. He was giving her a peek.

  Marin: Don’t mess with me, doc. That’s not playing fair.

  Donovan: Who said I played fair?

  That sent a little hum through her.

  Donovan: Just bring you. That’s all I need.

  The words were simple, but they had her heart picking up speed. This was going to happen. She and her near-virgin self were going to step into this world with Donovan. That got her nerves working again. And, of course, she couldn’t do things halfway. No, she’d been the dumbass who’d been all, Oh, no, we don’t have to go slow and work our way through the basics. We can just go straight to kinky sexy times. Yeah, no problem. That shit had definitely been her sex brain talking. She wanted those things—in her head at least. But now that the possibilities were staring her in the face, she worried she’d stepped out of the plane without a parachute. Out of her depth didn’t even begin to describe it.

  But she took a deep, calming breath, reminding herself that she could always say no, that Donovan would respect that, and then she texted that she’d be there on time. But she barely managed to get her makeup on without her hands shaking.

  By the time she was knocking on Donovan’s back door, her stomach was in knots and she was thanking the universe for the inventors of antiperspirant. She also was working hard to not blush every time she thought about what might happen between them. Despite her rampaging libido, her body’s automatic reaction to thinking about all things sexual was still plaguing her.

  But when Donovan swung open the door, greeting her with an easy smile and wearing jeans, a soft-looking gray T-shirt, and nothing on his feet, she could feel the heat rising in her already. Sometimes she could trick her mind into seeing him as “just Donovan”—her co-worker, a guy she knew from college, a man she was learning from. But at times like these, it was impossible to ignore the sheer impact of him. The beauty. The maleness. Strong shoulders and lean body, dark blue eyes that saw right into you, and a smile that made things twist inside her. He even had nice-looking feet. Who had that?

  “Come on in,” he said, pushing the door wide. The smell of oregano and garlic wafted out. “I was just about to grab the pizza out of the oven.”

  She stepped inside the yummy-smelling kitchen, trying to will down the visceral reaction she’d had to seeing him like this—casually dressed in his own place. She’d never seen him in any setting other than a work one. She tried to focus on the surroundings, anything but the tall sexy doctor next to her. Donovan’s place was similar to hers, but had only one story and had been styled with a more modern vibe. More a bachelor feel than cozy cottage. “Smells great in here. Did you order from Gio’s? Nate’s going to try their pizza tonight.”

  “Nope. I made my own. Well, I cheated a little. Gio’s sells their dough. So I keep some in the freezer. My mom used to make homemade pizza on Friday nights, so I’ve stuck with the tradition.” He hitched a thumb toward the counter. “Want something to drink? I have soda, bottled water, and merlot.”

  Marin leaned against the counter, warmed by the fact that Donovan had held on to his mom’s tradition even when most Friday nights he was probably cooking only for himself. It gave Marin a pang for her own mother. Her mom had been a mess much of the time, but there’d been good times mixed in, times when the three of them had piled onto the couch, eating junk and watching movies, laughing together. Her mom could’ve been amazing. If she’d had time and money to see the right doctors, find the right medication balance, get the right help. If Marin had been there to stop her that night and put her in a hospital. Marin swallowed past the jolt of grief. “Uh, wine’s good.”

  Donovan frowned as he pulled a bubbling pizza from the oven and set the pan on the stove. “Hey, you okay?”

  “Huh? Oh yeah, fine.”

  “You went somewhere for a second.” He tugged off his oven mitt and uncorked the bottle of wine.

  “I was just thinking that it’s nice that you hold on to some family traditions. I didn’t have a lot of those growing up. I’ve tried to create some with Nate, but it’s easy to get too busy and forget about those things.”

 
He handed her a half-full glass. “You raised a kid while you were a kid. I think you get a pass if some minor details got dropped in that kind of juggling act. And I bet you have more traditions than you think. Your brother would probably be able to name a bunch you don’t even realize. I remember my dad used to wash his car on Sunday mornings. He’d let me scrub the tires. To me, it was this really cool one-on-one time I’d get with him. But he would’ve never labeled it a thing. You don’t know what’s going to imprint on a kid.”

  She took a sip of the wine. “No, I guess not. Your parents sound like they were pretty great, though. I’m sorry you lost them.”

  He stepped over to the stove and turned his back to her. He grabbed a pizza cutter and ran it through the pie, his shoulders stiff. “I guess I should be thankful I had them at all. I know many aren’t that lucky. It was just hard to accept that two people could be wiped out of existence that easily. Parents seem like this permanent fixture when you’re young. But obviously, nothing’s permanent. Anything and anyone can disappear at any time.”

  She frowned. It was a fatalistic way to look at the world even if it was technically true. But she wasn’t going to call him out on it. She’d lost a parent, too. She knew how fragile life was. “Did they ever catch the person who did it?”

  He put two slices on each plate. “No. The case went cold years ago. I have a private investigator working on it now. The cops tell me I’m wasting my money, but I have to at least try, you know?”

  “Of course.”

  He turned back to her, two plates in hand, and smirked. “So, ready to sample my mad cooking skills and talk about something way less depressing?”

  “Definitely. We’re not breaking any shrink stereotypes, are we? I’m here five minutes, and we’re talking about our childhood tragedies.”

  He cocked his head toward the small round table in the attached dining nook and she followed him over to it. He sat the plates down and pulled out a chair for her. “I think you’re just trying to distract me from the topic we’re really supposed to be talking about. Nothing can ruin a sexy mood like dead parents.”