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.”

She sniffed at his tongue-and-cheek tone. “I’m not avoiding anything.”

“Uh-huh.” He slid into the spot next to her and opened a bottle of water.

She eyed his drink. “So I drink alone?”

He glanced at the bottle of wine. “I have a feeling you’re going to keep me on my toes. I need all my faculties operating at peak levels.”

She laughed. “But it’s okay if mine aren’t?”

“You get one glass of wine because I know you’re nervous.”

“I am not.”

He lifted a brow.

“Okay, fine, a little.” She picked up her pizza and took a bite so she didn’t have to say any more. It was loaded with veggies, and the sauce had a bit of heat to it. A garbled sound of pleasure slipped out.

He smiled. “You like? I didn’t put any meat on it because I didn’t know if you were vegetarian or not.”

She shook her head and swallowed her bite. “I’m not, but this is fantastic. What’s spicy?”

“A shot of Crystal hot sauce. The locals are wearing off on me.”

“He shrinks heads and cooks, ladies and gentlemen. A man of many talents.”

He licked a dollop of sauce off his thumb. “I have a very limited menu with the cooking so don’t set those expectations too high. On most days, it’s just takeout and sitting in front of the TV, working.”

“No play for you?” She had to bite back the cringe when she realized he’d probably been going to Dr. McCray for playtime. But if he thought of that, it didn’t show on his face.

“I don’t go out all that much. I have a few friends in the city and there are a few people at work who don’t think I’m an asshole. But generally, I keep things pretty simple.”

“Yeah, what’s up with the reputation at work?” she asked. “You pissing in people’s Cheerios when I’m not looking? I don’t get the aversion to you.”

He shrugged. “When I started here, I was in a really shitty place. I wasn’t looking to make friends. I wanted to get the X-wing up and running, and I wanted things done a certain way. I pretty much shut anything and anyone else down if it didn’t have a direct effect on that goal. So the reputation is well-earned. I’ve calmed down some since then, now that things are running more smoothly and settled down. But I’m still never going to be the guy heading up the company softball team or going to the after-work mixers. I’m still not here to make friends.”

She swallowed her bite and swiped her mouth with a napkin. “What’s wrong with friends?”

“Nothing, I guess. But I had a time in my life where it was all about socializing and parties and being seen and who you knew and filling life with all this bullshit stuff. I thought it was good medicine after what I’d been through. But it was just meaningless fluff. Background noise. Nobody was really friends. Not the kind who’d have your back or stand up for you. It was window dressing. I have no desire to have that kind of existence again.”

“That was when you were in L.A., right?” She took a sip of wine. “The celebrity fiancée and all that?”

He tilted his head in question. “You know about that?”

She held up her thumb and index finger, indicating a smidge of something. “I may have looked you up once or twice after you graduated to see how things turned out.”

“Oh? And what did you think of what you found?”

“Honestly?”

“Give it to me, Rush.”

“I didn’t recognize that guy. You seemed . . . fake and pretentious and smarmy. I read one interview and couldn’t match it up with the guy I’d met. I just figured money had changed you.”

He picked a topping off his pizza, thoughtful. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t the money. I’d already had a good bit of that from my parents. But fame was its own kind of numbing drug. It was easy to get lost in the glare and just play the role that people expected of me. I didn’t have to think too much about anything. Things moved too fast for that. At the time, that seemed like a fucking miracle, to be someone else. But like any drug, it was just killing me quietly.”

She heard the wariness hiding behind the bitter tone. “What happened?”

He set down his pizza, something in his expression going shuttered. “The whole thing had been going downhill already but then I caught Selena cheating. Everything kind of went to hell after that. I was . . . not in a good place. Eventually, it was Dr. Paxton who got my head out of my ass. He flew out to meet me and basically told me I was acting like a fucking idiot and wasting my education, my research, and my life.”

Marin sensed he’d glossed over something. Tension was there in the set of his shoulders, but she wasn’t going to push. “No way Pax said ‘fucking.’”

“Oh, I promise he did. He was pissed. He made me feel like a dumb shit. But it was what I needed to hear. I was acting like an idiot. He strong-armed me into getting my shit together and taking an interview here. I haven’t looked back.”

“Wow.” Marin shook her head. “Guess this is where Pax sends his problem students.”

He smiled. “Let’s pretend it’s where he sends his favorites.”

“So, you’re happy here?”

He glanced toward the dark window then took a sip of his water, something uneasy filling the silence. “I love what I do here. The job challenges me, and I feel like I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing. I’d like to work on some research, too, but until I get a director position, there won’t be any time for that.”

He hadn’t answered her question, not exactly, but she let it slide. They ate in silence for a few minutes, letting conversations of the past drift away in their rearview mirrors. The wine started to take effect for Marin—nothing dramatic but a softening of the sharp-edged nerves from earlier. The muscles in her neck and shoulders began to unwind.

“I think I could be happy here once I get more comfortable with everything. The clients definitely will keep me on my toes. I like knowing that each person is a new riddle to figure out.” She wiped her hands on her napkin. “And the training is turning out to be very . . . interesting.”

Donovan looked her way, amusement lighting some of the darkness that had entered his eyes earlier. He reached out and took a sip from her wineglass. “Yeah? What have you learned so far, Dr. Rush?”

“Well, I’ve learned that there are sex toys I would’ve never fathomed existed. And that there are still sexual surrogates. That blushing is a plague upon my house. Oh, and that there is chocolate-flavored lubricant—which I’m still trying to figure out.”

Donovan choked a little on the wine and then laughed and set her glass down. “What exactly is there to figure out?”

She gave him a well-duh look. “Why the hell would anyone want it to be chocolate flavored?”

He pressed his lips together like he was trying to contain a laugh but mirth danced in his eyes anyway. “You really need to ask? Some people don’t like the tastes associated with oral sex.”

“Is it that bad?”

“Which side?”

“I’m assuming you’ve only sampled one side of that equation.”

His lips curved, a pirate smile. “Not entirely true. I’ve never given a guy a blow job, no, but I know what I taste like. I suspect you know what you taste like, too.”

The heat that rushed through her hit her face in an instant. Her cheeks burned like she’d been slapped.

“There’s the patented Marin blush.”

She groaned. “Shut up.”

He shifted toward her, his gaze holding hers. “Take off your panties, Marin.”

She stilled. “What?”

He got up from his chair and grabbed hers, turning it away from the table. “Your nerves are going to get the best of you if we take things too slow. You can always say no, but I’m asking you to trust me. Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” The word popped up automatically.

But before she could say anything else, he lowered himself to his knees in front of her and his lips met hers in a slow, teasing kiss. One that made things melt. One that made the tension in her body unfurl. She gave into it. And as his tongue stroked along hers, he pushed her dress along her thighs in a slow glide, exposing her bare legs. Her heart picked up speed, her stomach tensing. But she didn’t stop him. Wouldn’t.

He hooked his fingers in the sides of her underwear and broke away from the kiss, his gaze colliding with hers. “I said, take them off.”

“Oh.” So they were doing this. Now. She tried not to have a panic attack.

Just listen. Let him guide you. This is Donovan. The words whispered through her head, calming some of the nerves. She lifted her hips when he tugged, and she let him slide her underwear down. Shivers chased the fabric down her legs as he dragged them all the way to her feet. He tossed the panties aside and put his hands on her knees.

“Open for me, Marin. I want to see you.”

She forgot how to swallow for a moment and couldn’t speak, but she didn’t offer any resistance when he applied pressure and opened her like a book, a secret book she’d never let anyone else but him read. Self-consciousness swamped her.

But the full, slow inhale he gave at the sight of her spread wide for him sent a rush of hot warmth flooding her. He stared at her bared sex with hungry eyes and drew a fingertip over her crease, earning a soft curse from her.

“So fucking gorgeous.” His voice was like water over rough rocks. “You should see how wet and ready you are from just sitting here talking about this.”

She closed her eyes, trying to pull in a breath. She felt exposed, vulnerable as all get out, but the earth would’ve had to shake beneath her to get her to move.

He dipped a gentle finger into her, her body protesting the sudden invasion at first and then another wave of arousal rushing forward and easing the way. Her hands reached out to grip his shoulders, nails digging in. The slippery evidence of how easily she’d gotten turned on made her blush harder.

“How do you think you taste?” His voice was a hypnotic song as he slid his finger from inside her, and then swiped a wet fingertip over her lips. She gasped and he breached her mouth with his finger. The distinct taste of her arousal hit her tongue.

She jolted at the invasion and her eyes popped open, but when she saw the naked desire in his expression, she settled almost instantly. It wasn’t the first time she’d tasted herself. They both knew it. They were both scientists at heart. Curiosity their drug. But somehow his looking at her like that made the embarrassment of that fall away like an unneeded layer of skin. Shameless. He challenged her to be shameless. It’s how she wanted to be.

He smiled, tugged his finger from her mouth, and then leaned forward and dragged the tip of his tongue over her lips, tasting what he’d painted there. He made a pleased sound and sucked her bottom lip into his mouth, licking it clean. He released her with a slow drag of his teeth over her lip. “I think you taste fucking amazing.”

She was breathless. Like she’d just sprinted somewhere. She had to force a response out. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I need more. Come ’ere.”

He got to his feet and put a hand out. She stood, her knees a little weak and the rest of her dinner forgotten. He grabbed the back of her neck and planted a solid kiss on her mouth—like he hadn’t planned to do that but couldn’t resist. Then he walked her back against the counter. Before she realized what he was doing, he gripped her waist and lifted her onto the kitchen island. He slid the bottle of wine to the side.

“Lie back.”

“Why?”

He smiled slow, wholly wicked. “I’m going to have you for dessert.”

“Donovan . . .” She didn’t know what she was saying. Yes. No. All of her senses were firing at once.

He pressed his finger against her lips. “Let the worries go. I’ve got you, Rush. All I want is to make you feel good. Tell me if you want something to stop. Okay?”

His eyes were steady on hers, a deep ocean of things played there in his gaze, but the solidness of him, the confidence, made her feel safe. Wanted. She nodded. “Okay.”

She shifted to lie back, but he stopped her. “Hold on. One more thing. I want to see you.”

He gripped the edge of her sundress and gathered it up her body. Once she adjusted her hips for him, he lifted it over her head and left her bare except for her bra. He quickly unhooked it and did away with that, too. She was left stark naked under the gleaming light of the kitchen with him still fully dressed. Panic welled in her.

But his attention swept over her with undisguised lust, distracting her from her racing thoughts. He reached out to cup her breast, brushing his thumb over her nipple and bringing it to a stiff, aching peak. “You’re so goddamned beautiful. I didn’t get the chance to take my time the first time we were together, but I plan on making up for that now.”

She swallowed past the knot in her throat. “Will I get to see you, too?”

He smiled and stepped between her spread thighs, his fingers gently teasing her nipples, sending hot frissons of need through her. “Later, I’m all yours. You can see and touch and taste whatever you want.”

Goose bumps prickled her skin as he kissed the side of her neck. She licked her lips. “I never got to touch you back then. To see you.”

He sucked at her collarbone. “I didn’t realize that you’d wanted to.”

She scoffed, the wine buzz and his hot, wet kisses making her inhibitions blur. “Are you kidding? It’s all I thought about for months before.”

He lifted his head at that. “Months?”

“Never mind.”

He grinned. “Oh no, Rush. Now you’ve got to tell me. I’ve got your pretty tits in my hands. You know how easily I could torture you?”

He bent and took one in his mouth, sucking it between his lips and circling his tongue around it. God. God. She moaned as the sensation darted straight downward and settled in between her legs. “Oh, fuck . . .”

He pulled off with a soft pop. “See. Tell me. Imagine how long I could suck and tease these without touching anything else and be perfectly content. I could drag out the evening just playing with you and stroking my cock while I do it, never giving you what you need.”

He moved to her other breast and she leaned back on her elbows, her thoughts scattering. “Teasing the born-again virgin is not . . . playing . . . fair.”

He hummed against her nipple, making the sensation ripple through her. Wetness pooled between her legs.

“Okay, okay.” She arched her back as he sucked harder. “Shit. I may have had a long-standing crush on you. I may have had completely impure thoughts about my TA for way longer than before that spring break.”

He nipped at her flesh and then raised his head to give her a devilish, satisfied smile. “So when you ran into me in the lab and realized who I was, you went about seducing me.”

A sharp laugh burst out of her. “I did no such thing.”

“You did. Utterly and completely.” He cupped her shoulders and lowered her to the island, displaying her like an X-rated feast. “Whether you knew it or not. You’re still doing it.”

He drew his fingers down her body from collarbone to hip. She closed her eyes, a shiver going through her. She’d never realized in that moment how starved for touch she was. No one touched her like this. No one ever. Her own fingers felt nothing like this. Every stroke of his hands was like a revelation, her nerve endings blooming under the attention. But then the sensation disappeared, leaving her floating without a tether. Her fingers curled around the edges of the island. “Donovan . . .”

“Shh, it’s okay.” His hands gripped her knees. “I’ve got you. Every gorgeous part of you.”

He spread her open and traced her inner thighs, sending luxurious tingles winding upward. She bit her lip, trying to keep the moan from slipping out. But then there was a gust of warm air against her wet flesh. Breath. She tensed all over. He was right there, up close with her most private spot. Her thighs tried to snap together but he was gripping her, keeping her in place. And before she could fully panic about what she looked like or what he thought or how this would feel, his mouth was on her. Burning hot, confident, and hungry.

“Oh, God.” Lightning went through her and then her muscles went lax like they’d forgotten how to work. A puddle. She was going to become a puddle.

Her knees fell fully open now, no resistance. He made a satisfied sound. Then, he licked her full and slow over her outer lips, the roughness of his tongue and softness of his mouth coalescing into some never before felt sensation. Then he found her clit. Her toes arched in her sandals.

“Holy. Shit.” Marin couldn’t stop the words or the desperate sound that followed from escaping her. He’d put his mouth on her briefly all those years ago. And she’d read about oral sex countless times, had seen it in videos, had educated others on it. But she’d had no idea. No. Fucking. Idea—it could feel like this.

“Agreed,” Donovan said, his breath gusting over her. He kissed her there again, openmouthed and deep, his tongue swirling around her clit like he was going to see how many licks it took to get to the center of her Tootsie Pop, for her to just disintegrate into nothing. One. Two. Ten. She lost count how many times.

Her body throbbed with an impending release already, everything tightening to the breaking point. Her nipples were so hard and achy, she almost went for it and rubbed them herself. But instead, she did what she’d been dying to do forever. She reached down and laced her hands in Donovan’s hair, feeling the soft strands slide through her fingers.

“You’re fucking perfect, Rush.” Donovan pushed a finger inside her, pumping slowly while he licked her in between dirty words. “You should see how wet you are, how hot you feel. I’m hard as rock just thinking about what you’re going to taste like coming against my mouth.”

“Donovan . . . God. I need, I’m . . .”

Despite her garbled speech, he apparently got the point because he moved his finger away, giving her a second to step back from the edge. But before she could really grab ahold of her control again, he slid his hands beneath her ass, cupping her and lifting her higher.

“Open your eyes and look at me,” he commanded.

She’d had her eyes squeezed shut the entire time, too overwhelmed by the feeling to take in any additional information. But at his command, her eyes automatically blinked open. And when she looked down her body, her gaze collided with his. He had her held in his palms, his lips slick and puffy, and without breaking contact he lifted her to his mouth and sucked on her clit.

The sight was so obscene, so goddamned decadent that she almost couldn’t take it. His gaze held hers like a rope tied between them, anchoring her and challenging her at the same time. Look at what I’m doing to you. Look at how filthy and sexy and shameless we are. He lapped at her—slow and sure—and then sucked and nipped at her flesh, bringing her to the edge and then easing her back again. Her brain filled with white noise, emptying of everything except what she was feeling and the man making her feel those things.

Then when she thought she couldn’t handle any more, Donovan reached for the wine bottle. While keeping a steady hand beneath her, he tipped it over her, dousing her sex with rich, ruby liquid. The cool splash was a shock against her hot skin, making her cry out, but then he was there licking it off her, dragging his tongue over her thighs and pussy, his lips going red with the stain of the wine.

The plinking drops of the wine dripping off her body onto the island and floor were unbearably erotic as Donovan got a roguish gleam in his eye and lowered the bottle. She didn’t have time to process what he was about to do. With his stare holding hers, he dragged the mouth of the bottle along her slit, smooth glass against throbbing flesh. Then he pressed it to her entrance.

Oh. Fuck.

Her arousal was absolute, everything slippery and aching, and the ridged opening of the bottle slid into her without a fight.

Donovan’s expression flared with unrepentant desire as he pumped the very tip inside of her with shallow thrusts. “Any way I want. That’s how I’m going to fuck you, Rush.”

The words rang through her, setting off sparks and making everything catch fire. She’d worried he’d treat her like a sweet, inexperienced virgin. She’d worried that he’d go easy on her. She’d been wrong. So very wrong.

He was going to break her into a million pieces.

And she was going to let him.

He dragged the bottle out of her, leaving her empty and pulsing with the need to be filled, and then he lifted the bottle to his mouth, wrapping his lips around it and draining the last few drops of it. All the while he held her gaze. He licked his lips when he was done. “You’re sweeter than the wine.”

Her head dropped back to the island with a groan. She could die. That’d be fine.

He pushed the neck of the bottle back into her, a little deeper, and this time she welcomed the invasion. Her body needed that pressure and he knew just how far to go—not too deep but enough to make her hyperaware of every sensation down there. Then he put his mouth back on her, licking, sucking, tasting while he fucked her with the bottle. In and out, in and out. Everything went white in her vision, and her head listed from side to side against the counter. It all felt like too much all of a sudden, too overwhelming. “Oh, God. Oh, God . . . I can’t take . . .”

There was no going back. A release like she’d never had in her life busted through the gates, trampling any shred of sanity she had left. Her back arched, her body seized, and all the colors of the rainbow cascaded behind her eyelids in a blinding waterfall. She screamed, an all-out, losing-her-goddamned-mind shriek and then she was rocking and floating and giving in to it all.

She didn’t know how long her orgasm went on or what was happening around her. All she knew was that Donovan was there anchoring her, giving her pleasure, bringing her to this place she’d never been. And when she felt like she couldn’t handle any more and started tapping the counter with her hand, he eased the bottle away and held her in place on the island while she panted her way back down to earth.

She knew she should do something, say something—move. But before she got enough strength to open her eyes, she was being lifted. Strong arms adjusted beneath her, and she rested her head against a spot that seemed natural. She felt Donovan’s stubble, smelled the faint scent of his skin. She inhaled deeply and nuzzled against his neck, mumbling nonsense.

Donovan chuckled softly. “Let’s get you in the bath. Then you can attempt speech again.”

She lifted her hand with a thumbs-up.

He kissed the top of her head. “Dork.”

“Pot and kettle,” she murmured.

“Yeah, that’s us.”

Us. She shouldn’t like the sound of that so much.