23

Marin decided to nurse one drink while enjoying the music in the club. She didn’t know what Donovan had planned for later, for one. But she also didn’t want to risk a loose tongue with Lane. The guy was easy to talk to and though he obviously suspected something was going on with her and Donovan, she didn’t want to slip up and confirm it. Let him have his suspicions.

Lane, to his credit, hadn’t brought it up again or pushed for any information. Instead, he’d told her about the band, about living in the city, and he’d picked out a few appetizers from the bar menu for them to snack on while they chatted. Marin felt herself relaxing after a while, enjoying the music and the company. She told Lane about her brother and about how she ended up at The Grove. He gave her the inside scoop about some of the people they worked with. And he artfully dodged questions about how he’d ended up in his chosen career when she asked.

It was comfortable and pleasant and . . . fun. She realized how long it’d been since she’d just hung out with a friend. So when he asked her to dance, she didn’t feel strange or awkward taking him up on it.

He swept her out onto the floor and pulled her into his hold, settling his hand on her lower back but not dragging her too close. On her first step, she managed to stomp his toes. “Shit. Sorry. I should’ve warned you that my dancing experience is limited.”

He smiled down at her. “Don’t worry. I’ve got tough feet. We’ll go slow.”

He guided her into a turn, his lead effortless, and she settled into his grip.

“There you go,” he said. “The trouble happens when both people try to lead. Your job is just to relax and let me take you where you need to go.”

She bit her lip, fighting back a smile.

His brows went up. “What?”

“Nothing. I can just see why you’re good at what you do. Why clients let you take them where they need to go. You inspire calm and confidence.”

His lips lifted at the corner, his expression openly pleased. “Thanks.”

He spun her around with a flourish and then gathered her back into his hold. The music swirled around them, the dance floor filling with couples. “I can’t imagine what it must be like.”

“What?”

“Your job.” She stepped on his toe again and winced, but he waved it off. She adjusted the position of her feet. “I mean, sexual attraction is such a huge, unpredictable thing. How do you work all that out? Keeping things professional with people while still accessing what you need to . . . get the job done? What if you don’t find them physically attractive?”

He laughed, the white lights of the disco ball dancing across his face in a polka-dot pattern. “Dr. Rush, are you asking how I keep boundaries yet still get turned on enough to perform, even with people who may not be my type?”

She grimaced. Yep, that had been what she was asking. “Sorry, inappropriate question.”

“Maybe. But it’s a valid one.” His fingers flexed against her back as he moved her a little closer. “I learned a long time ago how to switch modes. I’m either in work mode or personal mode. In work mode, I focus on the tasks, on being a guide. I don’t sleep with all—or even most—of my clients. But if the situation calls for it, then I provide that. Getting an erection isn’t that monumental of a task. Every woman has something beautiful about them¸ especially after I’ve gotten to know them in sessions. But I’m not there to get off anyway. And I find that it’s better if I don’t take my own release in sessions. It keeps things really clear about why I’m there.”

Her steps stuttered a bit, but he caught her before she could stumble and whirled her into another turn. “Wait, you don’t orgasm in your sessions?”

“Not usually. Unless a client has a specific need that requires that experience.”

“Wow.” She shook her head. “That seems like it’d be torture.”

Her phone buzzed loudly against her hip, her small purse doing nothing to hide the vibration from her or Lane. She ignored it and they kept dancing. But then it buzzed again.

“Need to get that?” Lane asked, backing up a few inches to give her room.

“No, it’s fine, I— Well, no, I probably should check, in case it’s Nate.”

“Go ahead.” He released one of her hands but kept his other on her back, swaying her to the music and keeping them from bumping into others.

She pulled out her phone and slid her finger across it. The message filled the screen.

I spot you across the bar. You look beautiful, and I know you’ve come here with someone else. I can see him holding you like he wants you in his bed. I bet he’s already imagining what you’d feel like beneath him. But he doesn’t know. Doesn’t know that my eyes are on you, that you’re already mine, and that tonight, it’s going to be my hands on you, my cock inside you . . .

A gasp slipped out of her, and her feet turned to stone against the floor, halting their movements. They were familiar words. Words from Donovan’s recordings. She glanced around, scanning the crowd, looking for him. But the place was dark and crowded, the faces only shapes in the shadows.

Lane looked down at her in concern. “Everything okay?”

She blinked, dragging herself out of her shocked state. “Uh, yeah, sorry. It’s . . . yeah, everything’s fine.”

Lane frowned. “Is it your brother?”

She shook her head and forced her feet to move again after earning an annoyed look from a passing couple. But her blood was pumping hard and her body lighting up with awareness. Was Donovan really here? The thought should’ve worried her. Stalker behavior, no thanks. But this wasn’t that. This was one of the fantasies from college. Your safe word is BLUE. That had been the message earlier.

This was the game. She was now the girl in the recordings.

Her skin prickled with heat.

Lane’s gaze was heavy on her. His eyes narrowed slightly. “So it was West.”

“Huh?”

Lane kept dancing, but his focus stayed solidly on her. “You’re flushed, and I can see your pulse jumping at your throat.”

“I really need to stop hanging around with therapist types,” she groused. “Y’all are always looking for every little thing. I’m fine.”

She moved her hand to drop her phone back into her purse, but in her haste, she fumbled it. The phone clattered to the ground. Before she could make a grab for it, Lane had let her go and swept it out of the way of an oncoming couple. His eyes, of course, skimmed over the screen.

“Lane, don’t.” She yanked the phone from him.

But when he looked over at her, something new had flared in his green eyes. He guided her back into his hold with ease. “Well, looks like I was right.”

She closed her eyes, her face burning. “You cannot breathe a word. Seriously. My job . . .”

“Is perfectly safe. I told you. I’d already figured it out, and I’m not telling anyone’s secrets.” He leaned closer. “But damn if I’m not jealous as hell.”

She looked up at him.

His smile was wry. “I’m a pawn in some scene tonight, aren’t I?”

“Scene?”

“Kink.” He rolled her out for a spin and then captured her again. “You two are playing.”

She let out a breath. How the hell had her near-virgin self gotten into this? Two weeks ago she’d been blushing over talking about masturbation, now she was having a conversation with a co-worker about how she was part of some kinky game. She was flailing around in the deep end, no floaties in sight. But she was caught. There was no getting around it. “You’re not a pawn. I didn’t know what would happen tonight. And I really do want to be friends and am enjoying tonight. I don’t want you to feel like—”

“Don’t apologize. I think it’s hot as fuck.”

“What?” The switch in tone and the frank language startled her.

He shrugged. “I already suspected Donovan was a kinky bastard. I usually recognize my own kind. But I never would’ve guessed it of you.”

Now it was her turn for surprise. “Your own kind?”

The amiable Lane smiled, a wicked glint in his eye. “You know how I said I have work mode and personal mode?”

She nodded.

“Well, personal mode is Master Cannon. After all that patience and tenderness at work, I need another kind of outlet in my off hours.”

Her lips parted. “You’re a dominant?”

“Now you know my secret. We’re even.” The music shifted into something slower, and Lane adjusted their movements to accommodate it. “So, you don’t know the plan?”

She swallowed past the dryness in her throat. She had no idea why, but somehow it was making her hotter knowing that Lane was now aware of what she was doing with Donovan. “I don’t know for sure. But Donovan’s recordings—the ones he made for his study in college. There was a scenario like this. A guy watches a woman on a date. You get the sense that they know each other, that maybe she’s been teasing him, wants to flaunt her date in front of him, taunt him. And then he . . . calls her bluff. Takes her.”

“By force?” Lane asked, no censure in his voice.

Her face heated. “I’d call it strong persuasion.”

“Damn,” Lane breathed. “It’s always the quiet ones. You sure you don’t prefer blonds? I’m really, really good in bed. People pay me for it, you know.”

She shoved his shoulder, earning a laugh from him.

“All right.” Lane tugged her closer. “I’ll stop. If you’re his, I’m not going to mess with that. But if that’s the fantasy, then maybe we should play along.”

“Play along?”

His smile turned mischievous, and he leaned forward, brushing his lips over the shell of her ear and sending a shiver down her neck. “Yes, Dr. Rush. You want him to be wild for you, right? If he’s here somewhere, let’s taunt him.”

Marin’s breath whooshed out of her. “Lane.”

He dragged her to him, his chest hard against hers, all semblance of polite dancing space disappearing. He tipped his head toward her as he rocked his hips in time to the sensual rhythm of the music. “All you have to do is say stop and I stop. But this could be fun. The more real everything feels, the more exciting it is. Trust me. I know how to play these games, too. Pretend there’s no one else in the room but me.”

Marin stared up at him in shock. “But what if he thinks we’re really into each other?”

“Then he’ll be that much more motivated to lure you away from me.” He nuzzled her jaw. From a distance, it probably looked like he was kissing her neck. “Imagine the possibilities. He’s going to play with your fear. It’s only fair that you play with his a little, too.”

“I doubt he’s that scared,” she said dryly. “We’ve just started this. If I was interested in someone else, he’d just move on.”

Lane’s hand cupped the back of her head as he gave her a look that anyone watching would’ve been able to identify. Full-on seduction. He was playing the role to the hilt. “Guess we’ll find out.”

Before she could respond, he guided her arms around his neck and then palmed her waist, pressing her hips to his. The grind of their bodies against each other was enough to make Marin lose her words. She had another man on her mind, but Lane wasn’t easily ignored. Her body was already primed, and having a beautiful man sliding against her fired signals she couldn’t have stopped if she tried. But when she closed her eyes to give in to the ruse, all she could think about was Donovan somewhere out there in the darkness watching them. The thought inspired equal doses of desire and tension.

“Hold on, doc,” Lane said against her ear.

She opened her eyes just as Lane whirled her to the edge of the dance floor, making the room spin and blur in her view, and then he dipped her low. Lane’s hand dragged her knee up to his hip, angling her farther back and holding her there. She felt like she’d stumbled into some scene from Dirty Dancing. But with her head upside down, her eyes landed on a man at a table a few yards away. His face was half in shadow, his arms spread wide over the back of the curved booth in a seemingly relaxed pose, but his gaze raked over her with pure hunger. Possession.

Warning.

Fire licked up her spine as an invisible tether between them pulled taut. Suspended animation.

That’s when Lane kissed up her throat.

The tether snapped. Donovan’s lips thinned, icy cool descending over his expression.

When Lane lifted her back up, the view flipped over in her vision, everything spinning from more than just the dance. It took her a second to clear her head of the dizzy spell. And when she looked over her shoulder, trying to locate Donovan again, needing to say something, to make him understand, he was gone.

The booth was empty, the spot melting back into the darkness without the energy of his presence to light it.

Donovan had left.

He’d believed the act. And he’d left her to it.

Left her to Lane.

Lane had challenged Donovan to make a play for her.

Donovan had decided she wasn’t worth the trouble.

Game over.