by Roni Loren
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 mak
e 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.”
18
Marin headed back to her building, resolve in her step. This thing with Donovan needed to be staked and turned to dust. She couldn’t focus on her job if this thing was hovering over her, whispering temptation in her ear, draining her of her good sense. Sure, she needed to learn some things. Her blushing problem was an ongoing issue, for one. But beyond that, she just really, really needed to get laid. It was time to step into the adult world and break out of this purgatory state she’d been in for all these years.
But she didn’t need to do that with Donovan as a training exercise. She wanted someone to want her simply because he was attracted to her, not because she was safe or there was some task list to check off. She didn’t need a relationship right now, but she craved something real, something raw. Untempered chemistry. Something like she’d had that first time when it was all desire and attraction and desperation. She didn’t want to be someone’s student. She wanted to be someone’s indulgence. She wanted to be that girl in Donovan’s recordings, the woman someone hungered for.
So she would talk to Donovan after the sex addiction group this afternoon and put the whole offer to rest. Cut and dried. Uncomplicated. Smart.
She was good at being smart. Smart had kept her afloat all these years.
She walked down the hallway of the X-wing, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floors. Ysabel and Donovan hadn’t returned from lunch yet, so Marin detoured to her office to get some things together for group. But when she stepped inside, she stopped so suddenly she almost turned an ankle.
The room was dark, the curtains drawn. But there was enough light from the doorway to see what was in front of her. A half-naked woman bent over Marin’s desk. A man behind her, grunting and pumping his hips hard.
Marin’s mouth dropped open at the sight, but no sound came out. So the couple she’d caught in action didn’t notice they weren’t alone anymore. They just kept at it. The woman was bared from the waist down, her skirt pushed up and her panties around her ankles. The man behind her had only shoved his jeans to his hips and his muscular ass was flexing hard as he thrust into the woman and told her how fucking hot she felt around his cock.
Marin was marble in the doorway—unable to move, unable to look away. She had no idea who these two people were, but the ferocity of their coupling had her in thrall. Her heavy desk was shifting out of place with every violent thrust, the legs scraping against the wood floor. And the woman was begging for more, harder. Her knuckles were white against the edge of the desk like she’d fly apart if she let go. Marin’s blood went hot and her mouth dry.
“Marin, I—”
She jolted, the voice like ice water over her head.
Donovan ground to a halt next to her, catching sight of the tableau. “What the hell?”
The man in her office let out a curse but didn’t stop the rhythm of his hips. Slap. Slap. Slap. Naked skin colliding. “Just give us a sec, doc.”
Donovan jostled Marin as he moved past her and flicked on the lights. The woman’s hand went up to block her eyes, and sounds of protest came from them both. Yet, their movements didn’t abate. The slick, lewd soundtrack of sex filled the room.
“You have ten seconds to put yourselves together or I’m calling security to take you out of here,” Donovan said, his tone brooking no argument and his expression revealing nothing.
But the man was already too far gone. His head tilted back, and he groaned long and loud. His shaggy blond hair slid away from his face. Only then did Marin get a good look at him—the hard angles of his jaw, the perfectly executed stubble. All the breath whooshed out of her. Holy shit. She’d seen that face and chiseled jaw before—in movies and on magazines and just about everywhere lately. Eli Harding had become a big deal a few years ago when he’d played a superhero in a summer blockbuster. Now the man that most of the female population would give anything to see naked was in front of Marin with his ass bared and his dick buried in a woman. A woman who had just tipped over into a loud orgasm.
Marin’s life had officially entered crazytown.
Donovan peered her way as the couple finished, his jaw tight and something unreadable in his eyes. Their gazes held, neither looking away, and her breathing stalled. Burning blue eyes. The rigid stance of his body. The way his hands flexed. All of it was too much. And not enough at the same time. There was something both wrong and ridiculously intense about sharing a look while two other people were getting off right next to them. Sexy sounds. Sweaty bodies. Naked skin. Something hot and wicked crept along her spine, moved downward, pulsed. Her tongue pressed to the back of her teeth.
Something flickered over Donovan’s expression, but he dragged his attention back to the offenders when it was clear they had reached their finish line. His voice was gruff when he spoke. “Go to the restrooms and put yourselves back together. When you’re done, I need you both in my office. This kind of behavior is not going to fly here.”
Eli pulled out of the woman and drew her skirt down to cover her, offering her some semblance of modesty. He gave her hip a pat. “You can get up now, babe.”
He stepped back and slipped off the condom, not making any attempts to hide himself. Of course, Marin’s gaze naturally went there. Even going soft, his cock was enormous in that big palm of his. She yanked her attention back upward, but Eli was already smirking her way like he’d enjoyed her checking him out. He tied off the condom and tossed it into her trash can with a flick of the wrist.
“Jesus, Eli,” Donovan said, his tone sharp. “Have some respect. This is Dr. Rush’s office.”
“So I’ll buy her a new trash can.” He swiped a wet spot from the polished wood surface they’d been sprawled across. “And desk. No big deal.”
The woman was up by then, straightening her clothes and setting herself back to rights. She looked more ashamed at being caught, her gaze sliding away from Marin’s when she looked her way. “Sorry, Dr. West.”
Donovan shook his head. “We’ll discuss all of this once you two put yourselves back together. Go.”
Eli casually tucked himself into his pants and zipped up, leaving the top button open. The two headed toward the door, and Marin stepped to the side. When Eli passed her, he smiled. “Nice to meet you
, Dr. Rush. Sorry about the mess but hope you enjoyed the show.”
The smug tone made her teeth clench. Yes, she’d watched. Maybe he’d noticed. But she wasn’t going to give this guy the satisfaction of knowing he’d affected her. “The bathroom is down the hall on the right.”
He gave her one last lazy smile and led the woman out. Marin shut the door behind them and sagged against the door. “What. The. Hell?”
She hated that her pulse was thumping so hard, hated that even though she wanted to punch that guy, not sleep with him, that her body had gone warm and hyperaware.
Donovan folded his arms and let out a long breath. “I’d like to say I’m surprised, but I’m not. Eli is a new addition to the sex addiction group since he’s filming a movie down here and his regular therapist is in L.A. Laura’s been in it awhile and has had slipups, but this is a big setback for her. Both have serious exhibitionist streaks, which would be okay if they weren’t so reckless and impulsive about it. Laura’s lost custody of her daughter over her behavior.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah. And Eli’s on his way to disaster. His publicity team put him in the program because he’s almost gotten caught on camera a few times, which could ruin his career. No one wants a guy who has kids’ action figures modeled after him to be caught on tape screwing women all over town.”
“He seems like a real handful.” The words were barely out of her mouth when they registered. She cringed.
Donovan smirked. “Insert: That’s what she said here.”
“Ugh. I can’t believe I looked.”
“I would’ve been surprised if you hadn’t. He basically held it out on a platter for your perusal. He wanted you to ogle. He’s very proud of his superhero penis.”
She tapped the back of her head against the door. “I should’ve been a professional about it though, turned around or something. Not rewarded the bad behavior.”
Donovan pressed his hands to the back of her desk chair. “How long were you standing there before I showed up?”
She sighed. “I don’t know. I think I was too stunned to process what was happening. I wasn’t sure who it was or how to handle it. I should’ve left and found you. But I froze.”