13

Off the clock. Marin wiped down the kitchen counter, trying to channel her nervous energy into something productive, but she ended up cleaning the same spot three times. Since she’d gotten home, she hadn’t been able to get her impending meeting with Donovan out of her mind. She had no idea what he had planned or why they had to meet after hours to accomplish it, but it had her thoughts drifting down all kinds of curving paths. Dangerous paths with Keep Out signs and flashing barricades across them. What could be so covert?

It’s not like he’d made a pass at her. He’d been nothing but professional today. And the way he’d raced out this afternoon after their last session, she was pretty sure he’d been heading out to meet up with someone—probably a woman. The thought niggled. But she told herself that if he had a girlfriend, that’d be a good thing. That would help her keep all stray thoughts about him out of her head. The last thing she needed was a resurgence of her crush on Donovan West. It’d gotten her in trouble last time. This time it could mean her job. Or his.

No thanks.

At least Nathan had been in a better mood when he’d gotten home. He’d landed a job at a late-night cafe that featured musicians and sold local art. It didn’t pay much, but he said the place was “cool” and that he wouldn’t have to wake up early. Apparently, these two things were of vital importance. The free coffee he’d get was a bonus.

She’d thrown together some dinner, and they’d eaten while he rattled on about what he’d seen in the city today. He was polite enough to ask her how her day went, but she had no idea what to tell him. How had it gone? The whole day had been fascinating but also stressful and strange. She hated feeling so damn incompetent. For the last few years at the university, her role had been like a second skin. People came to her for advice. She was the expert. The girl with the answers. Or at least the girl who knew how to find the answers. Now she was the novice in the corner, the interloper the clients didn’t want in the room. The girl who felt awkward anytime someone started talking about sex.

So she’d told Nate that the day had been “fine.” Sure. Whatever.

After dinner, she informed him she was going to meet with a few new colleagues. She almost wanted him to talk her out of it or make her feel guilty for leaving him alone. Then she’d have a good excuse to cancel on Donovan. But Nate had shrugged and said he planned to play Halo with Henry for the night and that he’d see her in the morning.

With no other excuses to hold her back, she changed into more casual clothes, slipped on her shoes, and headed out. Here goes nothing.

By the time she found her way to the large fountain, the sun was on its way to setting and the cicadas were playing their distinct songs, like a stiff wind rattling through reeds. Donovan was already there, flipping through a stack of stapled papers. He’d changed from his slacks and dress shirt into jeans and a pale blue T-shirt. Without the formal clothing and with his dark hair mussed from the breeze, he looked so close to the boy she used to obsess over that it took her breath for a second. She found herself standing there for too long just taking him in.

Donovan looked up after a while, apparently sensing he was no longer alone, and smiled when he saw her. “I didn’t hear you walk up.”

She raised a finger toward the trees. “The quiet night is not so quiet.”

He tucked his papers into a bag by his feet. “Yeah, the cicadas are in mating season. It can get deafening at this time of night. But one of the groundskeepers told me that this species only comes out from underground every thirteen years, so we’re witnessing a rare event.”

“One big bug orgy, huh?”

“So it seems.” He patted the bench. “I find it calming. Makes me want to sit on a porch and drink sweet tea while whittling wood or something.”

She laughed and took the spot on the other end of the bench, turning her body slightly toward him. “Sorry. No wood to whittle and I forgot to bring the sweet tea.”

“No worries.” He reached down and dipped his hand into his bag. He pulled out a bottle of red wine. “I brought reinforcements.”

She lifted a brow. “A little stronger than tea.”

“I figured this would be more fitting after a first day at work.”

She took the bottle from him and shook her head. “Oriana dropped a bottle off the other day, too. Guess she had the same idea.”

“Yeah. We’ve all had a first day here.” He pulled two red plastic cups out of the bag. “Wanna do it college-style?”

Her gaze snapped to his and she bit her lip. They’d only done one thing together college-style and it hadn’t involved Solo cups.

He stared at her for a second, obviously confused, and then he let out a strained laugh. “Damn, I keep walking right into those.”

She grinned and took one of the cups. “Yeah, you do.”

“Sorry.” Donovan twisted the top off of the wine and poured them each a healthy dose. He set the bottle aside and lifted his cup. “To surviving your first day.”

She touched her cup to his and then took a sip of the wine. “I’m not sure I totally survived. I may be slightly traumatized knowing that they make molds of porn stars’ vaginas.”

“And anuses,” he said with mock seriousness. “Lawrence made sure to point that out. Can’t forget the celebrity assholes.”

She blanched. “I really don’t want to know the process of how they take the imprint of the original.”

“Yeah, sounds pretty uncomfortable. That’s probably why those toys are expensive as hell. They work hard to make them lifelike.”

“You sound like you know far too much about this device.”

He sniffed. “Well, I haven’t personally taken a test drive, if that’s what you’re getting at. But it’s our job to know what’s out there, so I’ve done research. I keep a closet full of toys at the office. They can be an important part of treatment, so I like to keep up with what’s new. Though, I won’t be stocking any porn star parts anytime soon.”

“You actually give clients the toys? Don’t most therapists just recommend stuff?”

“People here want full service. They don’t want to have to hunt down something themselves. Plus, there’s a lot of crap products out there. I curate what I’ve seen to be most effective. You’ll need to do the same.”

She shook her head and sighed. “I feel so completely out of my depth with this.”

He gave her a sympathetic smile. “You don’t need to know everything day one. Just tackle one hill at a time. Or one vibrator at a time as the case may be. Imagine how fun that research will be.”

She laughed and looked down at her cup.

He reached out and tapped her wrist. “You’re blushing again.”

She touched her cheek, feeling the heat. “Oh, Jesus Christ. I’m hopeless. I should just get a spray tan and call it a day. No one will be able to see the pink beneath the glowing orange.”

He huffed a laugh. “I don’t think a spray tan is going to do it.”

“No?”

“No. Blushing is only a symptom, not the underlying issue. Get rid of the blushing without tackling the root and another symptom will just replace it.”

She groaned. “That is such a shrinky thing to say.”

“Guilty. But seriously, I think the only way you’re going to fix this is to figure out how to dig past this stuff and tap into that shamelessness I talked about. Let nothing shock you. Get comfortable with sex as just another topic to discuss in an open forum.”

“I thought I was,” she said, unable to hide the frustration in her voice. “It’s not like I’m a prude or anything. When it came time to give my little brother the sex talk, it was like a targeted missile strike with how efficient and angst-free it was. And I never balked when I interviewed teens for my research. But I guess there’s a big difference between discussing the basics of sex and health with beginners and hearing the kinds of things I’ll hear in sessions here.”

“Wow, you got stuck giving the sex talk to your brother? How’d you end up with that duty?”

“Long story.” She looked over to him, not wanting to get into the tragic history. “Did you go through this kind of awkwardness in the beginning?”

He shrugged and sipped his wine. “I think I got inoculated to it when I did my research. I had to talk to people about sexual fantasies. I read erotica for ideas. I watched all kinds of porn. Then I had to put some of my own personal fantasies on recordings that everyone, including my professors and fellow grad students, heard. And once upon a time, I had this perfectly nice girl catch me with a hard-on while I recorded a kinky scenario. Once you get past that kind of embarrassment, you’re pretty set for anything else.”

She gave him a wry smile. “Yeah, that’s pretty good exposure therapy. I’m just not sure how I could re-create that in a short time.”

He cocked his head, watching her, and drummed his fingers on the back of the bench. “Mind if I get all shrinky on you for a second again?”

She took a big gulp of the wine, already feeling the tingly buzz working through her system. Maybe this is why he’d brought the wine. He had to counsel her like a client on day one. Wonderful. “Lay it on me, doc. Shrink me.”

“All right. Total honesty?”

She waved her hand in a bring-it-on motion.

“Usually when we feel embarrassed or awkward about what other people say regarding their sex lives, it’s because we’re carrying that natural shame about our own sexuality—the shame that society teaches us to have. Acknowledging theirs is like outwardly acknowledging that we’re sexual, too. That we have those kinds of thoughts, do those kinds of things.

“It’s why you reacted when Lawrence suggested you had a toy at home. Whether it was true or not, he was outing you as being sexual. We all know that it’s a part of being human, of course, but we walk around pretending that it’s this other outside thing that we’re not a part of. It’s why no one wants to hear their parents talk about sex. We like our heads to stay firmly in the sand.” His eyes traced over her face. “So when you blush, it’s because your head was yanked out of the sand and that veil was lifted. You saw that secret part of the person or they saw that part of you. Like when Lane told you what he did for a living. He said it and then he was naked in your head, sleeping with some stranger, right?”

She straightened. “No, I—”

“Come on. It’s a natural reaction. We’re visual creatures. Someone says, ‘I sleep with strangers for my job,’ your thoughts are going to go there. The key is not being scandalized by where your mind goes. Just let it happen and then let it roll off you.”

“But how do you do that?”

He shrugged. “Once you’re exposed to those images enough times or do some of those things yourself, it becomes old news. I’ve observed Lane’s sessions on occasion. I know what that kind of therapy looks like. I’ve researched the sex toys, so I wasn’t shocked by what Lawrence said.”

“I promise I will never be purchasing a porn star faux vagina.”

He smirked. “Well, no, probably not. But remember how scandalous and exciting everything seemed when you were young, before you had any experience under your belt? When I was in middle school, I remember having this intense reaction to seeing the girl who sat in front of me’s bra strap exposed. My face got hot. I got all sweaty and nervous.” He shook his head. “Man, I jerked off to that image of her for months.”

Marin rolled her lips together, biting down on the smile. “Must’ve been some bra strap.”

He grinned. “It was pink, and it was spectacular.”

The wine was taking effect, and she had to swallow down a laugh. “I once wrote a whole poem about the sliver of lower back this football player in high school used to expose when he bent down to get stuff out of his locker. It was so tan and muscular . . .”

He raised his cup. “Ha, see, exactly. But that tells you something. Now if you saw that, your eyes would just skim over it. You wouldn’t blush or feel awkward. It would just roll off you. So you need to figure out a way to see everyone as a sexual being without being embarrassed or affected by it. Just have it be a simple fact. A part of life. Everyone’s doing it.”

“A companion piece to Everyone Poops,” she joked.

“Yep. Everyone Fucks.”

His frankness set her off balance for a second, and she glanced away, focusing on the grass. He was wrong. Not everyone.

“It doesn’t have to be that hard.” He put his hand to his chest. “You’ve seen me naked, and we’re having this conversation without any awkwardness.”

She watched him out of the side of her eye. “Actually I never did, but I understand what you’re saying.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

She waved a hand. “You were behind—I was—never mind. Let’s not go there.”

I will not picture how he must’ve looked behind me that night. Will not picture open jeans shoved to hips and straining muscles. Will. Not.

She set aside the wine.

“Now you’re getting red.”

She groaned. “Stop pointing it out.”

He touched his shoulder. “Is my bra strap showing?”

“Shut the hell up,” she said, smiling despite herself. “It’s just embarrassing that the guy I’m now working with has seen me the way you have.”

“What? Masturbating at work and then bent over a desk for me?”

“Donovan!”

But, of course, he didn’t look ashamed at all. He waved a dismissive hand and took another sip of his wine. “No, no, this is good. This is part of the idea I had. I know I told you we could pretend the past never happened. But maybe instead, our former . . . knowledge of each other can be to our benefit. There’s already a built-in comfort level here.” He bent his knee, turning more toward her. “So you can practice with me.”

She stared at him. “Practice what?”

“Immunizing yourself to sex talk. I’ll try to get you to blush or get flustered, and you work on fighting that reaction.” He grabbed the bottle of wine and poured a little more in each of their cups. “Alcohol will help for this intro session.”

“Donovan. Seriously. We’re so not doing this.”

“Better with me than reacting badly to a client. And we know more about each other than we should already. This could be helpful.”

“This is a bad idea.”

He leaned back, mischief in his gaze.

Uh-oh. She could sense him loading his slingshot.

“I was fifteen minutes late this morning because I had a hot dream and jerked off in the shower.”

“Oh my God.” She closed her eyes. “You can’t say stuff—”

Of course before she could even put her words together, her head filled with the image of him in the shower, naked, stroking himself, making those sounds she remembered. Her face flamed.

“Look at me.” He voice was soft but firm.

“No way.”

“Come on. No need to hide. Be bold.”

She forced her gaze upward, her jaw clenching. “I hate you so much right now.”

His eyes met hers, clear and unaffected. “Give me statistics about masturbation, Rush.”

She blinked, her thoughts faltering. “What?”

“I know you know them. I saw them in your sex ed program.”

She ground out a frustrated breath and pushed her hair off her forehead, grasping for the figures she knew were already in her head. “Uh, ninety-five percent of men admit to doing it, more than half do it weekly. For women, the numbers are only a few points less—eighty-nine percent.”

“I love that you can quote statistics even buzzed on wine. It’s kind of awesome. We should do shots and try to quote studies.”

She rolled her eyes. Though, she’d totally play and win that game.

“But my point is that you already know that, statistically speaking, masturbation in normal. It’s healthy. It’s natural. It’d be odd if I didn’t do it. So why should it embarrass you to know that about me? Or anyone. Lane does it. The clients we saw today do it. I’m sure my assistant does, my boss, the guy who sold me coffee this morning.”

“Yeah, but there’s a difference between knowing something in theory and knowing it in reality.”

“Sure there is, but that’s the point. You have to break down the wall between the two, take the taboo factor out of it.” He tilted his head. “Do you masturbate, Marin?”

“We are really, really not having this conversation.”

He lifted a brow in challenge.

“Ugh. You use that brow lift on your clients. I saw you do it today. It’s not going to work, West. I am immune.”

He didn’t relent. The brow only went higher.

“Goddammit.” She looked to the sky. “Of course I do it. You know that. You’ve seen me.”

He tapped her cheek. “Look at you. An admission to something personal and no blush. Progress.”

She ignored him and took another sip of wine. She had a feeling she was going to need all the alcohol-laced fortitude she could get.

“Here’s let’s try another,” he said. “Those fantasies you helped me with in college? Many were personal ones of mine. I like playing games of control in the bedroom and enjoy kinky sex. It’s what drew me to this field in the first place. I wanted to know why I gravitated to that.”

Marin’s belly tightened. Her free hand curled around the edge of the bench as she remembered those fantasies she’d listened to, his voice narrating, how so many of those fantasies had intertwined with hers. “Donovan . . .”

“Now. Ask me a question. Pretend I’m a client telling you that.”

Marin couldn’t look his way. The pictures in her head were too much. Too loud. And the last thing she felt was embarrassment. But she took a breath, steeling herself, and let it out. “So does that mean you’re a dominant?”

“Good question. I wouldn’t label myself that. I work closely with a BDSM group in New Orleans and offer reduced rates for their members since it’s hard for people to find kink-friendly therapists. So I have clients in the lifestyle and have studied it. But in my personal life, I don’t really take it to that level. I’m more flexible about the dynamics. I enjoy games, role-plays, power exchange for the thrill of it. A lot less formal than D/s.”

She cleared her throat and shifted on the bench. “Okay.”

“Now, it’s your turn. Claim something of your own. No shame. What do you like, Marin?”

The question slid through her, making her want to run. “I don’t know.”

He lifted his cup and nodded at her in a you-can-do-it motion. “You don’t have to be scared. Think of all the things I’ve heard in this job. I’m unshockable.”

“I doubt that.”

His lips lifted at the corner, bordering on smug. “You really think you have something that scandalous?”

The wine and the conversation were making her nerves edgy but her thoughts slower. “Maybe.”

“Well, now you’ve got me intrigued, Rush.”

She shook her head. This was not a conversation they should be having. She would never have done this with any other co-worker, but somehow from the very beginning, Donovan always had this truth serum effect on her. He’d gotten her to talk about fantasies when she’d barely been able to say them aloud to herself. And now she found herself wanting to confess again. She didn’t want to carry this around every day that she was training on this job. She didn’t want to blush and feel uncomfortable every time someone said something surprising.

“All right.” She downed the rest of her wine and then looked out toward the dark silhouettes of the gnarled oak trees. The cicadas had gone full throttle now, and the sky had turned from orange to silvery purple. Night in the bayou reclaiming its land. An otherworldly place where secrets almost seemed safe. She forced the words out. “I don’t know what I like because since you last saw me, I’ve been raising my little brother and trying to graduate and keep a roof over our heads. There was no time for anything else. No time for dating and certainly no time for sex. Bianca has more experience than I do.”

The words drifted on the night air, mixing in with the bubbling of the fountain and the thick breeze. Donovan didn’t say anything, and Marin couldn’t bring herself to look his way. She kept her hands clasped around her cup and her eyes on the changing horizon.

The silence stretched on too long, and unease curled around her like choking vines, her throat tightening. The crush of anxiety sent her to her feet. “I told you this was a bad idea. I’ve gotta get going.”

Donovan’s hand shot out like a striking snake and grasped her arm, urging her back down. “No, please, don’t. I’m sorry. I’m just . . . taking that in.”

Her butt hit the bench again, and she ventured a peek his way. “Looks like I shocked Mr. Unshockable.”

He stared at her, his gaze searching. “Are you telling me you haven’t—”

“No. Not since you.”

Deep lines appeared in his forehead, like he couldn’t understand her words. “I— It’s been nine years, Marin. You’re saying . . .”

“Yep.”

Wonder filled his face, like she’d revealed she was really a life-form from another planet, but concern quickly replaced it. “What the hell happened?”

She set her cup aside with a sigh. She hadn’t wanted to get into this with him—ever. But she knew there was no backing off of it now.

“The short version is that everything in my life exploded that night we were together. My mom had suffered from severe bipolar disorder for most of my life, but that night she had a psychotic break. She’d been recovering from a bad breakup with a guy and had been faking taking her meds. I thought she was stable, but she was on the verge and something triggered her that night.” She stared at her hands, worked the ring she wore on her right index finger off and on. “Probably me. I was supposed to stay home, but we got in an argument, and I spent the night with you instead. Nate said that after I left she started drinking and got paranoid, talking about everyone leaving her, that she was going to die alone.” Marin looked out into the night, not seeing it, the horrible scene vivid in her imagination even though she hadn’t been there. Hearing her little brother describe it had imprinted the images on her brain like it was her own memory. “So she decided she wouldn’t die alone. She’d take someone with her.” She peered over at Donovan. “By the time I got home, she’d attacked my brother with a kitchen knife and had slit her wrists.”

Donovan’s lips parted with soundless shock.

“Nate was bleeding out when I got there, but the paramedics arrived in time to save him. He had to have transfusions. Surgery. Nothing could be done for my mom.” Marin still had nightmares where she stayed longer with Donovan, where she took that offer to go to the diner with him and got home too late to save Nathan. “I had to drop out of school for a while to put our lives back together and figure out how to keep Nate with me instead of losing him to foster care.”

“Christ, Marin.” There was no filter on his expression now, no therapist face. He looked . . . stripped. “I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”

She rubbed her hands on her thighs, trying to get them to stop trembling. “Yeah, it sucked.” Understatement of the century. “But Nathan and I have made out all right. He’s about to start art school and I’m here”—she sent him a half-smile, trying to lighten the somber tone the conversation had taken—“embarrassing clients because I’ve managed to become the most inexperienced sex therapist ever.”

He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder, his palm warm through the thin cotton of her shirt. The naked empathy in his eyes made something twist in her gut. “That last part’s a minor blip on the radar. Look at you. It’s a damn miracle you’re here at all. When I lost my parents, I fell completely the fuck apart. And I was in my twenties, had a trust fund, and didn’t have anyone else to take care of. You were a kid, had no help, and became a doctor while raising another human being on your own? That’s superhero quality, Marin.”

She looked down, the praise and his awed tone winding through her, nudging things she didn’t want nudged.

He released her shoulder. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You can catch up on the experience thing. That’s easy.”

She laughed, though the humor felt forced. “Right, so easy. I just need it done in time for tomorrow’s sessions. No biggie. Maybe I’ll just run into town and pick up a guy who could show me a few things. Have him give me some kinky CliffsNotes. Or maybe I could call Lane. That’s what he does, right? Teaches.”

Frown lines bracketed Donovan’s mouth. “You don’t need Lane.”

His sudden shift in tone caught her off guard. She tilted her head, matching his frown. “I was kidding.”

Mostly. Lane was a tempting proposition. A good-looking guy who seemed nice enough, who could teach her a few things with no pressure or expectations, and who could keep it businesslike? It sounded ideal. Safe.

Donovan’s gaze turned shrewd. “You’re not going to go from novice to unshakable in one day. And bedding some random dude isn’t going to do much good. You’re not embarrassed by the basics of sex. And that’s all most guys are going to give you—the blandest version of vanilla. And at least half have no idea what the hell they’re doing anyway.”

She smirked. “I love that you say that like obviously you know better. Humble, much?”

He shrugged, not denying it. “You spend your career focused on sex, you learn a few things.”

“Obviously I missed that bullet point,” she said wryly.

“You did just fine from what I remember.” His eyes met hers, those blue eyes piercing her. “And believe me. I remember it all, Marin. Every. Damn. Second.”

The words crackled through her like heat lightning. Donovan had kept things casual tonight, but something in his demeanor had shifted, letting her see a flash of what was beyond what he’d been showing her. That bad boy she’d heard about, that doctor who’d gone to L.A. and worked his way through actresses—that guy was in there twining with the brilliant boy she used to know and making her thoughts scamper in ten different directions. She shifted against the bench, long-dormant nerve endings waking up and paying attention.

Donovan peered toward the trees, tension that wasn’t there before rolling off him. “I should stop talking now.”

Yes, he should. He totally should. Her mouth opened before she could stop it. “Why?”

A muscle in his jaw ticked. “Because hearing you say you want someone to teach you about sex, that you need more exposure to taboo stuff, is making me want to offer things I shouldn’t, making me remember how intense that week with you was, how hot things were when we finally gave in to it. And I’m not noble enough to play it off.”

“Donovan.” She inhaled a shaky breath, and her mind immediately jumped to what he wasn’t saying. Donovan mentoring her in an altogether different way. Naked bodies. Skin pressing against skin. Forbidden fantasies springing to life in the dark. She ran her hand over the back of her neck, finding it damp and burning hot. “I—”

“Please don’t say anything.” He turned to her and frowned. “You shouldn’t have to respond to that. I’m sorry. I promised myself I wouldn’t cross the line with you. I owe you that. Just ignore me.”

She blinked, off balance from his words, the wine, and the fact that she wasn’t entirely sure she would’ve turned him down if he hadn’t cut her off first. She closed her eyes, trying to regain some semblance of sanity. “Maybe I could do some online research on the areas I’m unfamiliar with.”

The suggestion was lame, like throwing a deflated balloon in the air and expecting it to float, but she needed something to get them off this dangerous track. They were tiptoeing over splintered ice right now. One wrong move and they’d both be taken under. She couldn’t go there. Her body wanted him. There was no doubt about that. But blurring their roles had disaster written all over it. She needed to stay focused on the job not her starving libido.

Donovan cleared his throat and seemed to drag himself back from the brink, too. He gave a brisk nod. “Sure. That may help some since exposure is what you need. There’s a video for everything.” He rolled his shoulders as if shaking off the previous conversation and regaining business mode. “I’ll send you some from the X-wing collection if you want. You need to watch them anyway so you know which to suggest to people. But that kind of research just covers the knowledge factor, not the embarrassment or awkwardness. I doubt you’ll get embarrassed watching porn alone in the privacy of your own home.”

She took a breath, relieved they were backtracking into safe territory. “I honestly have no idea. I’m more of a book girl than a video one. Though I did find a DVD Nate tried to hide once. I didn’t know what it was but watched more than I needed to once I put it in the player.”

Her attempt at levity earned her a halfhearted smile from Donovan. “Teen boys usually pick the worst. What was it?”

“Well, Nate’s gay, so . . .”

“Ah, gay porn. A fan favorite with my female clients. I recommend it often for those having arousal trouble.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I usually try the audiotapes first with female clients, but if they need something visual, that’s the direction I go. Women say the guys are better looking, and there’s no girl with fake reactions and too much makeup to distract them.”

“Huh. Never thought about it that way, but it makes sense. It was pretty compelling until I remembered that it was my little brother’s wanking material.” She wrinkled her nose.

He huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah, that could be a mood killer.”

He was silent for a while, and she traced a finger around the edge of her cup. “I guess I at least have a place to start now. I like having a plan of attack. Although, I’m not sure which topics to tackle first.”

He pulled out his phone and started typing, still not looking at her. “This will help. I’ll email you our sexual history intake form we use for clients. It covers the gamut of sexual activities. Go through it tonight and familiarize yourself with it. If you don’t know what something is, Google it. If something triggers a strong reaction in you, star it so that you know it’s a potential stumbling block you need to work on. And maybe that will mean watching videos on the topic or delving deeper into it.”

“Delving deeper?”

He tucked his phone in his pocket and finally met her eyes. “Yeah. Talking with me about it, asking questions, setting up observation if we need to. Lane is okay with therapists observing his sessions if the client feels comfortable with that. And I have an open invite to that kink club in New Orleans. I could take you there and let you watch some of the public scenes and talk to members. They’d be happy to help.”

She nodded. The thought of remaining professional with Donovan at her side while watching people have sex sounded like a hundred levels of torture, but she could be a grown-up about this. “Okay.”

Donovan’s gaze held hers, something pained there. “And I’m sorry that I crossed the line tonight with what I said. I want you to feel safe and respected in this position. And I want you to be able to come to me with questions and learn without any other kind of pressure on you. The fact that we slept together before or that I’m still attracted to you now are moot points. I’m sorry those things invaded tonight. The wine was probably a bad idea.”

She swallowed past the dryness in her throat. Part of her wanted to shout at the heavens in frustration. It’d been so long. She’d been on the shelf for so goddamned long. And now this gorgeous, intelligent man was saying he wanted to sleep with her and she couldn’t act on it. She had to be responsible. Practical. Do the right thing.

She was so fucking tired of doing the right thing. “It’s fine. No big deal.”

Donovan reached for her hand and captured it between his warm palms. “And I’ve had too much to drink and am probably not expressing it well, but I really am sorry about what happened with your mom. I know what it’s like to lose a parent. And I know what it’s like to show up too late, to wonder what if, to worry that you’re partly to blame. The night my parents were killed, I was the one who forgot to set the house alarm. I wouldn’t wish that kind of guilt on anyone.”

She rolled her lips inward and nodded, his words hitting her right in the gut and making her chest hurt not just for herself but for him, too.

He held on to her hand and with his other, reached out and cupped the side of her face, sending trailing warmth down her spine. “I’m so sorry if I contributed to that horrible night for you. I was selfish. I shouldn’t have—”

“No.” She closed her eyes, wanting to lean into his touch but holding the urge in check. “Please don’t take it back. For a long time, those days with you were the only good I could hold on to, the only normal I could remember. Everything else was such a disaster. Of course, I wish I could go back in time and see the things I missed with my mom, intervene before it was too late. I regret not being home that night. But I never regretted what happened between us.”

“Not even now?” he asked softly.

She opened her eyes, meeting his stare. His touch felt so right, and the way he was looking at her transported her back in time. He got it. Like no one else could, he got what it was like to have those big, looming specters in your life—what-ifs, blame, loss. His thumb ran along her cheek, and he wasn’t moving away. Something swirled between them, sparked. She wanted to kiss him more than she’d wanted anything in a long damn time. Needed it. She licked her lips.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” A loud, exaggerated voice broke through the private space Marin and Donovan had weaved between them. “I didn’t notice you there.”

Donovan jerked back, dropping his hand to his side, and turning his head. Marin immediately looked toward the intruder as well and found a blond woman in a tracksuit giving them a chilly smile.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Marin had forgotten where they were.

A muscle in Donovan’s cheek flexed. “Hi there, Dr. McCray. Out for a run?”

“Yep.” She eyed the cups they were holding. “Out for . . . a drink?”

“Just a quick celebratory drink in honor of Dr. Rush surviving her first day on the X-wing. It’s tradition.”

Marin frowned. She had no idea if it was tradition or not, but she got the distinct sense that Donovan was lying. She also knew this woman had seen way more than them drinking. You don’t cup the face of your co-worker. She cleared her throat, stood, and held out her hand. “Marin Rush.”

The woman gave Marin’s hand an overly firm shake. “Elle McCray.”

“Elle’s the head physician in the addiction wing,” Donovan offered. “She’s also one of your go-to’s if you have a client who needs to be evaluated for a medical condition or needs a prescription.”

Marin offered the most professional smile she could muster. “Great. Look forward to working with you, then.”

Dr. McCray didn’t respond. Instead, she sent Donovan a look, one edged with something sharp and deadly.

That’s when Marin knew. These two had something between them. She didn’t know exactly what, but she suddenly felt ridiculous for sitting there and entertaining lustful thoughts about Donovan. He’d said he was attracted to her, that he was tempted to teach her some things, not that he was available. Of course he had someone. That’s why he was fighting to hold himself back with her. She’d seen him with lipstick marks. The moment that had passed between them was just old stuff kicking up and too much alcohol, nothing more.

Marin shifted on her feet. “Well, I better get going. It’s been a long day, and I have some things to catch up on before bed.”

“Oh, don’t leave on my account,” Elle said with a flat tone.

“Marin—” Donovan stood as well.

She held up her hand in a quick wave. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Dr. West. Thanks for the pointers and the drink.”

He frowned, consternation in his eyes, but he didn’t stop her from going. She turned too fast, making her head spin from the alcohol, but she kept her back straight and strode off, trying to look casual and unaffected. She hoped she pulled it off. But she couldn’t resist one last look. So when she got far enough away to peek back over her shoulder without being too obvious, she saw that Dr. McCray had taken Marin’s spot on the bench next to Donovan and was sitting way too close.

Something ugly rolled through Marin. Ugly and vicious and acidic.

But this was what she should want, right? There was no risk now. She could focus on the job at hand and not worry about Donovan or getting in trouble with her boss or screwing this all up over a misguided libido.

Great. Perfect. Shoot a fucking confetti gun!

She stepped into her house, the world swaying a bit in her vision, and slammed the door behind her.

Nathan looked up from his spot on the couch, computer on his lap, bottle of soda halfway to his mouth. “Whoa, what’s wrong with you?”

She tossed her house key toward the entryway table but missed. “Nothing. I’m going to my room. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Had her words slurred? Maybe. She couldn’t tell.

He frowned. “Are you . . . drunk?”

“No. I’ve got work to do.” She grabbed the key from the floor, which took more concentration than it should’ve. “Which reminds me, if I needed to find the best porn sites, which would you suggest?”

Nate, who’d been staring at her with suspicious eyes, went slack-jawed. “What?”

She waved her hand in an out-with-it motion. “Come on. Best porn sites. Go.”

“Oh my God, you are drunk.”

“Are you going to tell me or what?”

Nate shifted on the couch and gave her a look like he would like to request an immediate transfer to another family. “Uh, not that I’m admitting to anything, but we aren’t exactly in the same target audience, Mar.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s for work. And let’s not pretend you’re that innocent.”

He cringed and leaned his head back against the couch, beseeching the universe. “What is my life?”

“Nate,” she said impatiently.

He groaned and rocked forward to grab his phone from the coffee table. He set aside his computer and soda, and started typing on his phone. “I swear to God, I better not get bitched at for this when you sober up.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m texting you my sign-in information for a site. The good ones require a subscription. This one has . . . a variety of stuff.”

“You have a subscription to a porn site?”

He gave her the side-eye. “Shut it, Mar. You asked for help. That gives me immunity. And please, God, do not save favorites or anything once you’re in there. A guy can only handle so much trauma.”

Marin’s phone buzzed in her pocket with his text message. She titled her chin upward. “Fine. We’ll both be adults about it.”

“At least one of us will,” he muttered and then looked her way again. “You sure you’re all right?”

The little waver in his voice cut through some of the fuzz in her brain. Nate had rarely seen her drink. And he’d definitely never seen her tipsy. Their mom had liked alcohol way too much, and she’d been drinking the night she’d died, so Marin had avoided it for most of her life. Only in the last year had she allowed herself an occasional beer or glass of wine. But alcohol still meant scary, ugly things for Nate. He never touched the stuff. And she hated that she was making him worry for even a second.

She took a deep breath, centering herself and trying to clear her head of the buzz to focus. “I’m fine, kiddo. I met with a co-worker and had a few glasses of wine to celebrate getting through the first day. Obviously, my tolerance sucks. This won’t be a regular thing. And the porn site really is for work research.”

The glimmer of tension in Nate’s expression softened. He gave a quick nod. “All right.”

She lifted her phone. “Thanks for the info.”

He gave her a wry smile. “I would say have fun, but then I might vomit.”

She laughed. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

She trudged to her room and collapsed onto her bed.

In one day, she’d managed to piss off a client, almost kiss her co-worker in front of his girlfriend, and get porn recommendations from her little brother.

She might not survive day two.