by Roni Loren
He gave a little shrug. “Don’t beat yourself up too much about it. Not too many people would look away from catching Hollywood’s hottest star doing the deed on their desk. But hey—this is a bit of a victory. You didn’t seem embarrassed when it all went down. I’m almost glad that you gave him a good perusal. It’s a bolder move than shrinking away. In fact, when he caught you checking out what he had on offer, you gave him this look that seemed to say ‘oh, get over yourself.’ It was kind of brilliant.”
She laughed and pushed up from the door. “Yeah?”
He walked around her desk and tucked his hands in his pockets. “Yeah. And I won’t lie. Seeing you knock him down a peg was pretty entertaining. I shouldn’t enjoy that. The guy’s struggling with all kinds of shit that makes him act the way he does. But”—he lifted his shoulders and stepped closer—“I’m still a guy. And seeing you completely unimpressed with one of People’s Sexiest Men Alive feeds my Geeks Rule! Jocks Drool! heart.”
She crossed her arms over her chest but couldn’t help smiling. “Since when are you a geek?”
He gave her a surely-you-can’t-be-serious head tilt. “Please. The first time you met me, I had a hard-on while doing psychological research and wore shirts with Freud puns.”
“Okay, good point. Maybe I can’t recognize geekiness because I’m a member of the same club.”
He nodded sagely and reached out to tap her nose. “You definitely are, Rush. It’s one of your finer qualities.”
She pursed her lips and was about to come out with a teasing comeback but then she paused. This was flirting. They were flirting. Shit. This is exactly what she shouldn’t be doing. She’d made a decision. She couldn’t get sidetracked just because her hormones had kicked in after what she’d witnessed.
She stepped around him to go to her desk and pulled a notepad out of her drawer. “We better head to your office. If we leave them alone too long, they may christen your desk, too.”
Donovan frowned. “They better not. If anyone christens my desk, it sure as hell better be me.”
Marin sent him the side-eye as she headed toward the door. “Never went there with Dr. McCray?”
She wanted to take it back as soon as it came out, but there was no rewind button. She was stuck with it. Petty jealousy. Out in the open and waving around. Fantastic.
He stepped up next to her while they walked. “No, Dr. Rush. I’ve only taken one girl over a desk, and I’ve never done it again because I knew it couldn’t be topped.”
Marin’s breath caught and she halted her step. “Donovan, you can’t . . . say stuff like that.”
He turned to her. “I know. But it’s the truth. And if I can’t say stuff like that then you can’t look at me like you did while Eli and Laura were in here.”
She straightened. “And how was that?”
“Like you wished it was us on that desk instead.”
She closed her eyes, the words sending her back to their night together all those years ago. Was that how they’d looked? Like Eli and Laura had? She hadn’t seen it from that angle back then of course. But her imagination could fill in the blanks. What Donovan must’ve looked like pumping into her, how wanton and wild they must’ve seemed. Things tumbling to the floor, bodies joining. She wet her lips and peered up at him.
He stepped closer.
“You’re doing it again,” he said softly. His gaze skated over her face, her neck, lower. Her body prickled with awareness, her blood pounding through her and desire blotting out everything else. She had no doubt he could read every bit of it on her. She was breathing too fast, and her nipples were hard against her bra. She wanted him to touch her. Needed him to. “Donovan . . .”
The word was a pained plea. He reached up as if to stroke her face but then quickly lowered his arm and stepped back, a grimace tugging at his features and his Adam’s apple bobbing before he spoke. “We need to go. Group. Eli and Laura.”
The words were jagged in the quiet and ripped right through the haze that had worked its way around Marin. She cleared her throat twice before she could trust herself to speak. “Right. Yes. We should go.”
Part of her wished he’d meant go to her house, his bed, the damn janitorial closet down the hall. But instead he stepped out of her way and opened the door.
He wouldn’t make a move.
He’d promised her that.
The ball was firmly in her court, spinning around and taunting her. She was supposed to tell him today that this wasn’t going to happen. She needed to tell him. Losing her self-control like this was proof positive how dangerous this kind of arrangement would be. This man made her go stupid. Despite her best intentions, she’d almost begged Donovan to touch her right here in the office with clients down the hall and a group session about to start. Meanwhile, he could remain calm and detached—barely affected at all.
She needed to end this dance.
She would tell him. Later.
She walked past him, hoping he didn’t see the way she wobbled on her feet. This was going to be the longest group ever.
19
This was the longest group ever. Donovan wondered if The Grove still stocked straitjackets because he was losing his fucking mind—slowly and painfully. Group had been going on for half an hour, and he’d barely registered a word of what anyone was saying. Marin was sitting across from him, legs crossed, posture attentive and professional, but all Donovan could think of was how close they’d come to screwing all this up in one ill-advised moment.
They were hitting a breaking point. He’d thought he was the only one. But the way Marin had looked at him. She’d begged for his touch with everything but words. And he’d known with every male instinct he possessed that if he’d put his hands on her, she would’ve been warm and wet and willing. Her desire had been a palpable thing rolling off her. She’d needed relief. She wanted it from him. And goddamn, did he want to give that to her.
When he’d caught her watching Eli and Laura, he’d only gotten a glimpse of her reaction. Her lips had been parted, her skin rosy, and her breath held. But it’d hit him like a swift punch to the gut. Dr. Marin Rush had been in a trance seeing Eli fuck Laura fast and hard. And then Donovan had watched her face while the couple found their release. She’d held Donovan’s gaze through the ecstatic cries and erotic sounds—a coil of electricity sparking between the two of them. And it’d taken everything he had not to get hard right there. He’d caught clients fooling around before. It didn’t hit his sexual radar. It usually just pissed him off because it meant the treatment wasn’t working. But being in the same room with Marin with the sounds and fog of sex around them—that had been almost too much to take.
He’d tried to play it off, to make light of the situation. But when Marin had stood in front of him, looking like she could go off at the barest touch, he’d wanted to shove her up against the door, slide his hand up her skirt, and alleviate that problem for her right that moment. He wanted his name on her lips.
It’d taken every damn ounce of his self-control to not say, Fuck it all, and give them both exactly what they’d wanted in that moment. But neither of them had been thinking straight and clients had been down the hall. If he touched her, regret would be hot on their heels. Regret and serious consequences. But he was starting to realize how right Ysa had been. This wasn’t going to go away simply because they decided it should. They were trying, and it was only getting worse. It was making them reckless.
Something neither of them could afford to be.
He’d promised Marin that he wouldn’t push her, and until today, she hadn’t shown any sign of accepting the offer he’d made last week. At first he’d been relieved. He’d gotten a get-out-of-jail-free card after the lust-induced, ill-advised suggestion. But now—God, now he’d wished she’d said yes. He could deal with it fine if she wasn’t into him. But how was he supposed to handle it when she looked at him like she was fucking starved for him, like he’d landed the starring role in every one of her filthy fantasies?
He’d never obsessed about women like this. A woman was either interested in what he had to offer or not, no big deal. But working with Marin and keeping things professional had become slow, sweet torture. Last night, he’d barely made it into the house before he was hard with thoughts of her and climbing into the shower to stroke his cock. It was like when he’d had to pen the fantasies for the study. The dirtiest, lewdest things badgered his mind, demanding he play out the scenarios in detail. Marin writhing beneath him. Marin spread across his desk. Marin shoved up against a wall, taking his cock, begging for release.
“What would you say is an unhealthy level of masturbation, Dr. West?”
Jane Swenson’s question yanked him out of his spiraling thoughts, and he adjusted in his seat, his body becoming way too aware of the road his brain had been cruising down. “Um, I’d say that depends.”
That depends was always a good answer when you hadn’t been paying attention, though he felt like an asshole for letting his mind drift so much. He prided himself on giving his clients his undivided attention. He’d been an utter failure at that this week.
Jane frowned. “I feel like I’ve made a lot of progress. I haven’t hooked up with anyone in two months, but I’m worried that I’m relying on self-help a little too much. I’ve been using my vibrator every night, sometimes in the morning, too.”
Marin shot a look his way, like she somehow knew he hadn’t been paying attention, and then focused on Jane. “Masturbation can be part of the sex addiction, but Dr. West is right. It depends on the level. You need to ask yourself if it’s interfering in your daily life—getting in the way of obligations, putting anything at risk, if you’re fixating on it.”
Jane shrugged. “I don’t think so. I mean, I don’t think about it while I’m at work or anything. It’s not like when I was cruising bars every night. The high for me was always the game of picking up a guy, not so much the orgasm. I liked feeling desirable, powerful. Masturbation doesn’t give me that.”
“I jerk off every day. Always have.” Dave, another group member, chimed in. “I don’t think that’s weird. I mean, yeah, if you’re rubbing yourself raw and blowing your salary on porn or something, probably not good. But otherwise? Meh.” He shrugged. “Plus, isn’t it like using a patch when you try to give up smoking? You’ve dropped the random hookups. Going cold turkey with no other outlet could set you up for failure, so maybe it’s a bridge for you?”
“That’s a great analogy,” Donovan said, back up to speed with the conversation. “It can be a great tool if you’re doing it in a healthy way. If you weren’t relieving that tension, it could put you in a more stressed state, one where you’d be more likely to relapse and seek a hookup.”
“Sex brain,” Laura said, not looking up from picking at her fingernail polish.
“Sex brain?” Marin asked.
Laura’s attention drifted briefly to Eli, who hadn’t said a word since group had started. “Yeah, when you get so horny all you can think about is screwing the nearest guy. It’s like starving yourself for days and then expecting to resist a buffet. You set yourself up for a fall and make crappy decisions. Then you do something stupid, and when you come down off that high, you realize you’ve messed everything up again. Giving your vibrator a workout has got to be better than that.”
The words were clearly directed at Eli, but he just leaned back in his chair, knees wide and expression bored. His lip curled in derision. “A toy or your hand can’t substitute for good sex. It’s like drinking diet soda when you want the real thing. I say, just drink the sugar.”
“And you do that enough, you get diabetes and die,” Laura said darkly.
Eli snorted.
“My vibrator is way better than a lot of sex I’ve had,” Karina, another group member, offered in an offhanded tone. “Hate to break it to you, boys, but you are very much replaceable.”
“Okay,” Donovan said, trying to refocus a conversation that was quickly getting off track. “Let’s explore this in a different way. We’re focusing a lot today on the physical pleasure of sex—which is an important component. But what hookups and masturbation lack is the intimacy you can find in a healthy relationship. The reason many of you are here is because you’ve leaned too far in the direction of the physical high of it. So how about we discuss some ways to start connecting with others without the physical component at the forefront?”
Different members of the group shared their opinions, and they ended up getting some good things discussed, but by the time the end of the hour was nearing, Donovan was exhausted and his shoulders tight with all the tension he was carrying.
He wrapped up things a few minutes earlier than he normally would have and let everyone file out while he stayed in his chair. He tried to focus on writing down some final notes, but Marin’s presence had his gaze straying. After telling everyone good-bye, she walked around the circle of chairs, picking up coffee cups and soda cans that people had left behind. It was a simple thing, but something about the way her skirt swished with each step and the slow click of her heels against the floor was unbearably erotic. He’d like to see her in just those heels.
She caught him watching her. “Good group. Laura’s clearly rethinking her behavior from earlier.”
Donovan grunted an agreement, trying to reel in the dangerous thoughts. “And Eli is not. But at least he behaved himself in group.”
“He did, mostly. And now I have a new term to add to my therapeutic repertoire.” She tossed the trash in the bin. “Sex brain.”
“Yeah, that’s a new one, but I think it resonated with the other members. We’ve all experienced that kind of thing at some point—jonesing for something to the point of bad decision-making. For a group fighting addiction, that can be a constant state. And unlike drug or alcohol addiction, lifelong abstinence from sex is not a reasonable goal.”
She smirked as she gathered some extra handouts and set them on one of the chairs. “I can attest that it’s survivable though.”
“Is it?” The question slipped out before he could stop it.
She paused, her smirk falling away, and peered toward the door as if to double-check they were alone. “Donovan, about earlier . . .”
When she didn’t continue, he leaned back and waited.
Her lips compressed like she was struggling to find the right words, but he didn’t fill in the silence for her. When you filled in for people, you chased off the truth. He needed to hear her truth.
She sighed. “I guess I’m the one suffering from sex brain.”
“Oh?” He tried to keep his tone neutral.
“Yes.” She walked over to the door, shut it, and then flipped the lock for good measure. When she turned back to him, her arms were crossed and her expression grim. “I’m sorry about earlier. I was caught off guard with Laura and Eli, and after everything I’ve been exposed to since I’ve started working here, all the videos and research and just—I don’t know. I guess I hit my limit, and it all spilled over. I lost my head for a second, and I—well, my reaction was inappropriate.”
“Getting turned on because you saw two people fucking isn’t inappropriate, Marin. It’s normal.”
She winced.
He should’ve apologized for using the crude term instead of the clinical one. But it was Friday, he was tired, and his ability to keep up propriety with Marin today was wearing thin. “So are we finally going to talk about this thing, then?”
“Thing?”
He braced his forearms on his thighs, keeping his focus on her. “Yeah. The glaring fact that we want each other. That earlier we almost risked both our jobs just to scratch that itch.”
She looked away, her lips rolling inward.
“I know you feel it. It’s been there since we kissed. Before that even. But I made you an offer and I’m assuming you’re not going to take me up on it. So now we’re left with this . . . thing. It’s distracting us both and it’s affecting our work.”
“Right. That thing.
” She curled her fingers around the back of one of the chairs, looking just as weary as he felt. “It’s definitely . . . distracting.”
“Then why not do something about it?”
She wouldn’t look at him.
“I told you I wouldn’t pressure you and I won’t. But if you’re feeling like this, what’s stopping you from taking me up on my offer?”
“To check off my list?”
“Yes,” he said, maybe a little too emphatically. “To check off the list, to get some experience, to release all that tension you’re carrying around. I can help, Marin.”
“Right.” She finally met his gaze, defiance there. “And that’s exactly why I haven’t said yes.”
He stared at her in confusion. “What is?”
“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.