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?”

Ori gave a fuck-my-life groan while she sprinkled red pepper flakes on her pasta. “You have no idea. A-list actress got checked in by her family this morning, and someone tipped off the press. It was a freaking nightmare trying to get her in without anyone getting pictures. And she is not a happy camper. My intelligence, my virtue, and my hairdo have all been subjects of her insults this morning. Did you know this color looks terrible on me?”

“Ugh, sorry.”

She gave a dismissive flick of her wrist and plunked the pepper shaker down. “Part of the deal. I’m just happy for a brief respite. My impenetrable armor will be back intact once I get some carbs and coffee. And ooh”—she eyeballed the dessert on Marin’s tray—“cupcakes. I missed those.”

Marin picked up her cupcake, split it to give Ori half, and then went back to poking at her shrimp salad. “Ah, yes, the only food groups of any importance.”

“Exactly. So talk to me about something other than how I’m an evil idiot doctor who has no fashion sense and is here to ruin everyone’s lives.” She licked a dollop of icing off her thumb. “How’s week two with the Orgasm Whisperer going?”

Marin’s fork slipped from her hand and it hit her plate with a clank. “Uh, we should probably not call him that in public. Plus, I think he hates that name.”

Ori gave a cheeky grin and twirled noodles onto her fork. “It’s better than some of the other names I’ve heard people call him around here. And, I bet he secretly loves it. Can you imagine how much play he got out of that nickname?” She inclined her head, taking on a mock serious look. “Hey, baby, I can coax that orgasm right out of you purely with the luscious sound of my voice.”

Marin snorted at Ori’s imitation. “He so doesn’t sound like that. No one would get turned on if he sounded like that.”

Ori pointed her fork at Marin, noodles sliding off into her bowl like snakes abandoning ship. “You know what I mean. A guy who could talk you into coming would be hot.”

“Well, I doubt anyone can talk someone into orgasm. That’d be quite a talent. But the audio is definitely effective at getting you in the right headspace.” This was so not what Marin needed to be talking about. She needed to keep Donovan out of her head, not be thinking about how his sin-laced voice used to sound on those recordings or how those fantasies he’d weaved had pushed buttons she hadn’t known existed inside her.

“Wait, you’ve listened to the recordings?”

“What? I—” Marin’s lips snapped shut.

“You have, haven’t you?” She leaned forward, eyes bright. “I’ve heard they had that actor James Harlow do the narration. God, his voice is like melted butter. Are they super steamy?”

Marin poked at her salad. “Uh, well, I’ve never heard the final versions. Donovan and I went to the same university. I heard some of the early recordings from the study.”

Ori leaned back in her chair. “Whoa, so like the ones West actually talked on?”

“Yep.”

“Were they hot?”

“Yep.” She took a bite, chewed viciously.

“Wow, that must be seriously awkward with him being your boss now.”

“He’s not my boss.” Marin said it way too quickly and emphatically, the words just bursting out like a sneeze. Lovely. Stealth she was not. Ninja license revoked.

Ori’s eyebrows lifted. “My bad. Your colleague. Your very gorgeous colleague. Anything you’re not telling me, Dr. Rush?”

Marin sent her a withering look.

Ori raised her palm, feigned innocence on her face. “Just sayin’. Dr. West has a reputation for being difficult to work with, but he’s very easy to look at. You deny that, and I know you’re lying to me.”

“He’s not that difficult to work with. And I will acknowledge his winning of the genetic lottery but am studiously ignoring his good looks.”

She laughed. “Impossible.”

Marin pointed to herself. “Girl on probation.”

Ori’s smile went conspiratorial. “That just means keep it on the down low.”

Marin hummed a tune and put her hands over her ears. “Not listening to you and your bad influence. Talk to me after you’ve jumped that orderly you’re lusting over.”

“No shot. I’m on lockdown.” Ori glanced to the left and tipped her head in that direction. “McCray caught us flirting in the hallway this morning so we’re on her radar. Have to lie low for a while.”

Marin took a bite of her salad and followed where Ori’s gaze had gone. The cafe was humming at this time. Doctors, nurses, and therapists milled around, chatting with each other and choosing from the gourmet options in The Grove’s mini food court. Skylights gave the whole place a bright, airy vibe, making it almost feel like an open-air cafe even though it was inside. But one blonde was sitting in a place where the light didn’t shine. McCray was flying solo in a far corner, her laptop out and her food untouched, her whole demeanor conveying a don’t-bother-me vibe. A bitter taste crossed Marin’s tongue. She took a long sip of her iced tea. “It’s got to be a nightmare working for her. She seems . . .”

“Scary?”

“Not the word I was thinking but fits.”

Ori shrugged. “She is scary. Made me cry my first week here when I made a mistake with a client’s chart. But I’ve gotten used to her and have learned how to stay on her good side for the most part. Plus, I’ve learned a lot from her. She’s kind of a badass when you get to see her work. But for my first few weeks here, I thought of her as the Bitch like everyone else.”

Marin held up a finger. “There’s the word I was thinking.”

Ori peered over at McCray again. “Yeah, she comes across that way. She cultivates that image. But one night a few months after I first started, we were both working the graveyard shift, and I had this client . . .” Ori frowned. “The girl was barely nineteen but had lived a fast life. Her parents were famous musicians who were never home, so she’d spent her teen years getting high and getting in trouble with boys. She’d been admitted to rehab when her mom found out that she’d started doing porn. The girl was strung out and beat down and had the self-esteem of a garden pea when she came in.

“A day after we got her through detox, she tried to kill herself with a ballpoint pen she’d gotten ahold of. We found her in time. But after Dr. McCray got the girl’s wounds taken care of and the necessities out of the way, she gave this girl a you-are-better-than-this, tough-love talk that I wish I could’ve recorded. It was like the most kickass, empowering speech I’d ever heard about not letting men use you and about finding your inner strength and worth and . . . God, I wanted to climb on top of the desk and burn my bra or raise the mockingjay sign or something. It was brilliant. It showed me how much McCray cares about her patients. She wasn’t giving lip service. She meant every word she said. And it worked. That girl got cleaned up and is doing well now.” Ori took a bite and shrugged. “So I’ve got mad respect for McCray now—even though she can be a nightmare sometimes.”

Marin frowned, not wanting to hear anything good about the woman. It made it harder to hate her. “I had a quick chat with her last week when she needed something from our floor. She doesn’t like me much.”

Ori looked up and made a meh face. “Don’t take it personally. She kind of hates the X-wing in general. She and West do not get along.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. She’s a stickler about everything—procedures, paperwork, blah blah blah. And Dr. West is . . . well, Dr. West. He does things his way and on his own schedule. Plus, McCray thinks dedicating the resources of a whole floor to sex therapy is a waste. When West came on board, there was only couples therapy. He launched the sex therapy program and wanted his own dedicated floor. That floor had been set aside for an expansion of the rehab unit and then got pulled out from under McCray. She blames him.”

“So they hate each other?”

“Pretty much.”

Of course they did. It shouldn’t surprise her. Donovan stacked the deck to make sure his relationships were doomed from the start. He’d told her as much. But this made her realize that his offer to her meant that he saw her as a safe bet in that regard, too. Maybe not in the same way as McCray, but safe nonetheless.

That annoyed the hell out of her. She wasn’t looking for a relationship right now either, especially not one with a co-worker. But being seen as a no-risk prospect for him didn’t sit well either. You can sleep with me but not get to me. That was the message. Or maybe he just saw her as so wildly inexperienced that she was no real threat for the great Orgasm Whisperer. She was just the sweet, naive therapist who couldn’t get through a session without blushing like a schoolgirl. He would be her emotionally detached mentor. Her sexual surrogate.

She shoved her salad aside and grabbed her cupcake, taking a violent chomp out of it.

Yes, she wanted to learn, experience things. And the thought of him being the one to show her turned her on more than it should. She’d been tempted by the offer hourly since he’d made it. But she also didn’t want to be someone’s pity project. And she’d be damned if she let herself become another McCray to him. Screw that.

She’d left the offer there on the table this long because she hadn’t quite been able to close that door. But thinking about it from his point of view, thinking about how he’d gone about things with McCray, about how he must see all this, pissed her the hell off.

Donovan West thought she was safe.

Safe. Ugh.

“So what’s on your agenda for the afternoon?” Ori asked, oblivious to the storm building in Marin.

Marin swallowed the bite of cake. “Fixing a mistake.”

“Already got to that stage today, huh?”

“Nope, I made this one a long time ago.”