Pleasure Principle: Off The Clock Part 26

She closed her eyes, letting her head sag against the wall, and immersed herself in the sensation of him coming, of losing himself to her. He'd used a condom, but in her mind's eye she let herself imagine his release mingling with hers, the evidence of their shared arousal painting her flesh as he slowly eased out of her.

When he'd fully slid out, he wrapped an arm around her waist and pressed his face to her shoulder. "Christ. That was . . . I . . . d.a.m.n . . ."

He was panting against her and obviously as blitzed as she was. That made her smile. Mr. o.r.g.a.s.m Whisperer had gone dumb. Not that she could say much more than, "I concur."

He chuckled against her, his breath cool on her heated skin. "Two in two doctors agree."

She smiled at that. "Empirically verified that it was great, then."

He pressed a kiss to her shoulder then untied her from the clothes rod. He rubbed the tingles from her arms and turned her around. When she faced him, she was. .h.i.t with the impact of him all over again. He'd pulled off the tie and his s.h.i.+rt was hanging open, chest glistening with sweat and slacks unb.u.t.toned. But his eyes, oh, the eyes. He was looking at her like she was the most precious thing in the world. Like she was something to him.

She could get addicted to that look. To him.

No.

She couldn't. Not if she had any good sense.

But before she could pull her gaze away, get herself back together, he kissed her.

And she forgot she was supposed to be careful.

28.

"I can't believe I'm up this late on a school night."

Donovan smirked. "I told you I was a bad influence."

"You totally are." Marin was sitting on his kitchen island cross-legged, wearing only his b.u.t.ton-down, and eating watermelon in the moonlight. She licked the side of her hand as a particularly juicy piece got the best of her. In some ways, she looked childlike with her messy hair and his oversized s.h.i.+rt. In every other way, she was the s.e.xiest d.a.m.n thing Donovan had ever seen.

Almost a week of not having her in his bed had been way too long. When she'd left the morning after their role-play in the club, he'd wanted to call her right back inside, had wanted to spend a slow, lazy Sunday with her. But that knee-jerk reaction had scared the h.e.l.l out of him. That need to simply hang out with her. He didn't need. Not like that. So he'd let her go and then had volunteered for on-call duty for most of the week. But it hadn't done any good. The need had only gotten bigger, more insistent, an addiction knocking at his door, calling to him, until every thought had been about her and what had happened Sat.u.r.day night.

Their interlude in the closet hadn't been planned. Usually he was one to have something in mind before starting, and he had come into the house that night with a plan. Plans were good. Predictable. But then it'd gotten all shot to h.e.l.l when he'd grabbed her and she'd fought back. He'd never expected her to go there and definitely not to trust him so wholeheartedly.

And he could tell she hadn't been playing along for his benefit. She'd wanted that edge of danger for herself and believed he'd keep her safe. That trust had been a potent aphrodisiac. Then when he'd touched her, he'd nearly lost all composure. She'd been more than turned on. Everything was so slick and hot. Like she was dying for him. And f.u.c.k if she hadn't been wearing his boots. He rarely wore the things anymore. He'd left Texas behind in a lot of ways. But he'd never be able to look at them the same way again. Not after seeing Marin wearing them while bare naked and tied to his closet rail. Those boots may get bronzed and put on his mantel.

Or he'd save them for her to wear again.

Because despite how bad of an idea this was, he'd known there would be an again. He'd known it the minute they'd walked into work on Monday morning. His chest had swelled with this foreign sense of joy at just seeing her there. Then, she'd given him this look, this look that said she was happy to see him, that she'd been waiting to see him, and that now her day was better because of it. That look thrilled him. And terrified him. Because it was one that made him want to be worthy of it, to be different than he was, to be able to give her more than a few weeks of X-rated role-plays. To be that guy who'd keep that smile on her face. But he knew better than to believe he was capable of that. He didn't know how to keep a smile on his own face much less someone else's.

He'd realized then that the thirty-day limit didn't protect him. It protected her. He wasn't going to be able to quit Marin Rush. When their time was up, he had to trust she'd quit him. Because otherwise, he'd just keep extending it, sucking up all that light from her until he dragged her down when he worked obsessively or hit a rough spot or the darkness washed over him again. She deserved more that that. She'd already been through enough.

But until then, he was going to give her everything he had. He'd learned that joy in life had a very quick expiration date. So he intended to make the most of every second of this time with Marin. He would go in without armor this time. No games. No filters. Just the two of them riding this wave together until it inevitably crashed ash.o.r.e.

"Feel better?" he asked after eating a few bites of the melon. "I know s.e.x with me requires regular hydration. It's like training for a marathon. Need to get you in fighting shape, Rush."

She narrowed her eyes at him and then spit a watermelon seed at him with impressive velocity. It plinked off his shoulder and he laughed.

"But seriously, you sure you're okay?" he asked. "I know I was . . ."

"If you say too rough, I'm shooting another seed at you."

He lifted a brow. "I was just going to say rushed . . . and intense."

"Sure you were. It's been five days of longing looks at the office. If you hadn't pushed me up against the wall the minute I walked in tonight, I would've been disappointed."

"I might've left bruises." In fact, he knew he had. She'd walked in, and every ounce of his self-control had flown right out of him. As soon as the back door had clicked shut, he'd had her pinned to the wall and his hands and mouth all over her. Once he was inside her, they'd come so fast, it'd almost been embarra.s.sing. Only afterward had he realized how rough he'd been.

She licked juice off her thumb. "You know what word I know?"

"Hmm?"

"Blue," she said simply. "I know how to p.r.o.nounce it and spell it and everything."

He nodded, loving how direct she could be. Marin played s.e.x games with him. She didn't play any others though. "Point taken."

She set her bowl aside. "I'm not trying to be flippant about it. I appreciate your concern. I just would rather not overthink it, you know? Therapist me would love to pick it apart. Why do I enjoy that? What does it mean? I went through that in college when I first found myself reacting so strongly to the stuff on your recordings. But can't a person just like things a little left of center simply because it's fun and exciting and feels good? I don't have some big dark reason for why I like how rough you are or why it was thrilling to fight back that night in the closet or why I'm not scared. I just know that you do those things and it turns me on and I go with it."

He leaned back against the counter, considering her. "Some people like roller coasters and some don't."

"Exactly. Or skydiving. Or horror movies."

"Did you just compare s.e.x with me to a horror movie?"

Her lips. .h.i.tched at the corner. "You know what I mean."

He stepped over to her and parked himself between her knees. "I have to say. You're sounding pretty shameless there, Rush. I wonder how that happened."

She hooked her legs behind his back and fed him a piece of watermelon. "Be careful, West. Gloating is not attractive."

He sucked the fruit juice from her fingers, nipping at her fingertip. "Liar. You love that I'm a know-it-all. You recognize your kind."

She snorted. "I am no such thing."

He took her hand and kissed her wrist, tasting sticky sweet watermelon there. "And a messy eater."

"Shut up. That was an exceptionally ripe melon."

"Mmm-hmm." He pressed his teeth into the tender flesh of her arm, feeling her pulse against his lips. "And a girl who's owed more than a quick f.u.c.k against the wall."

"Don't underestimate the power of a good wall bang. You don't owe me anything."

He smiled against her skin and looked up. "Good? Just good? Well, clearly I need to up my game. You're not allowed to leave with just good. My entire reputation is at stake now. Things must be proven. Egos stroked." He ran his thumb down the center of her palm. "Other things stroked."

She licked her lips, giving herself away despite her protests. "We've got work tomorrow."

"Sleep is overrated." He leaned forward and kissed her neck, marking a path along her throat.

She closed her eyes and made a breathy noise that went straight to his d.i.c.k. "Maybe so."

"Plus, I have something in the bedroom for you."

She lifted her head at that, playfulness in her gaze. "Is that something the hard thing that's pressing against my leg?"

"Not quite. Though that will be heavily involved as well."

"Now you've got me curious."

"Hmm. We've done spanking and light bondage and role-play so far, a little voyeurism, a little exhibitionism. I've been thinking all week about what else we can check off that list."

Her pupils were already going dark with desire, but she managed to stay focused on him. "Oh?"

He straightened and unwound her legs from around his hips, his own nerves trying to make an appearance now at what he had planned. She kept her gaze on him, but once she'd scooted to the edge of the island, he lifted her up and set her on her feet. "Come with me."

He grabbed her hand and guided her toward the hallway.

She cleared her throat as she followed. "If there's some ma.s.sive s.e.x swing or something in there, West, I'm out."

He chuckled under his breath. "Come on, give me some credit. I save that for at least the fourth date. Plus, you'd have to do stretches before that. I wouldn't send you in cold."

She smirked. "Okay, so defiling via wine bottle is date one. Tied-up s.e.x in the closet is date two. Third date is wall s.e.x. And fourth will require yoga warm-ups. Got it. You should write a dating guide."

"Totally. I'll do that." When they reached his locked bedroom door, he lifted his arm to feel around for the key on the top of the doorframe and then unlocked the door without opening it.

She frowned as the lock turned over. "I meant to ask you last time. Why the dead bolt on your door?"

"I'm that kinky."

She tilted her head and gave him a not-buying-his-bulls.h.i.+t look.

"You're giving me the therapist look?"

Her eyebrow lifted.

He sighed. "Fine. Remember how I slept in my office at school?"

She nodded.

"I used to have nightmares that my parents' killer came back for me. It kept me from sleeping at home and when I did, it was pretty ugly. So Dr. Paxton suggested I get a dead bolt for my bedroom to make me feel safer. It's become kind of a touchstone wherever I live." He ran a hand over the back of his head. "Stupid, I know."

Her fingers tightened around his. "Not stupid at all. I didn't drink a drop of alcohol until last year because I was convinced if I did, I'd instantly transform into my mom and not be able to stop. We do what we need to do to keep moving forward."

He released a breath. The complete acceptance and lack of judgment did more for him than he would've expected. He hated looking weak or scared, but she didn't see it like that. She saw it as just another thing, a part of him. He leaned down and kissed her because he had to. There was nothing else he could do in that moment but that.

When he finally pulled back, he grabbed the handle of the door. What lay behind it made his hand tremble. But now more than ever, he wanted to give this to her, wanted to show her that despite their thirty-day agreement, she was not just another notch in his bedpost. Not a hookup. Not back then and not now. She'd always been something more. He swung it open. Here goes nothing. Inside, his bedroom was just as he'd left it. Filled with flickering candles, the bed covered with rose petals, and the scent of vanilla in the air.

Marin blinked as if she couldn't quite make sense of what she saw. Then, she slowly turned to him, big question marks in her eyes. Questions and something else altogether-wonder. "What's all this?"

Her voice was soft, like she was almost afraid to ask.

He cupped her chin and traced her bottom lip with his thumb. "There's one thing I wish I could've given you back then. One thing that's always bothered me. I like you dirty. And I like you kinky. But everybody deserves a little romance for their first time. I didn't give you that. I thought we could have a do-over."

She simply stared at him, leaving him feeling far too vulnerable as he braced for her reaction. He could feel his defenses rising, a smart-aleck comment poised on his lips to downplay things.

But then the smile that broke over her face stole the words right from him. She pushed up on her toes, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him. Everything that was knotted inside him unwound at that, and he dragged her against him. When she leaned back from the kiss, her eyes gleamed in the reflection of the candles. "You've had this planned the whole time?"

"I'm a planner, Rush. I can't help that someone has no patience and a.s.saulted me as soon as she walked in the door."

She grinned wider. "Oh, is that how you see it?"

"I was a mere pa.s.senger on the train."

"Uh-huh. So do you have a plan for what happens next?"

He reached for the b.u.t.tons on her s.h.i.+rt, unfastened them, and then pushed the fabric off, revealing all that smooth, fair skin. "Just this. You and me. Naked. On that bed, doing what feels good."

She s.h.i.+vered at the trace of his fingertips over her shoulders, her nipples stiffening to tempting points. "I can work with that."

"So can I, Rush."

So can I.

Marin didn't know what was showing on her face, but she hoped she didn't look as flayed open as she felt. She hadn't known what to expect when Donovan said he had something in the bedroom for her, but the last thing she'd expected was this. The man who didn't believe in The One, who seemed to see romance as a silly illusion we fed ourselves, had set up the most romantic thing she could imagine. He wanted to give her the fantasy first time, the storybook one. And though she had zero regrets about how her first time had gone with him, she couldn't deny that this nudged that secret part inside her that still got swept away by happily-ever-afters and sappy movies.

This guy was going to freaking kill her. She'd told him she wanted him to be himself, to not put on any masks, but maybe that had been a dangerous thing. She could deal with the Donovan who got her body revving, the one who'd f.u.c.k her in a closet or do naughty role-plays. But she wasn't sure she could handle this version. This version could hurt. Slice her right open and get to the tender parts.

But before she could finish her silent panic attack, Donovan lifted her and brought her over to the bed. The sheets and flower petals were cool beneath her back as he laid her out. He straightened by the side of the bed, looming in the candlelight, s.h.i.+rtless with just his pair of slacks on, and this intent, almost pained, look on his face. He brushed the back of his hand over her breast, making her s.h.i.+ver and sending heat blooming there. "You're beautiful, Marin. You look like art right now. I wish I had my camera out."

She licked her lips. She'd noticed the photographs hanging on the walls of his place the first time she'd been here. Mostly black-and-white landscapes and city skylines. The same type of photos that hung in the therapy office. Things captured from a distance, never close up. Behind him was a stunning one of what looked to be San Francis...o...b..y.

Now she realized why they'd drawn her attention. All those photos were his. The world seen through Donovan's eyes. "You do photography."

"Not anymore, but you're making me regret that now."

Goose b.u.mps appeared at his full-length perusal. A few seconds ago, if someone had suggested she take nude photos, she would've laughed them right out of the room. Incriminating pictures that showed every flaw possible? Yeah, no thanks. But the way Donovan was looking at her made her skin pull tight and everything warm. "How would you photograph me?"

His gaze slid to hers, something fiery and dangerous there. He trailed his fingertips over her breast and down her belly, circling her navel. "Just like this. All spread out and bared for me. Willing and wanting. Trusting."

Her toes curled at the teasing touch, her back arching. "Yeah?"

He walked around the foot of the bed, leaving his hand on her but trailing it along with him. He pinched her left nipple with erotic precision, sending fire through her. "Then maybe a close-up shot of just these pretty pink nipples, straining for a touch or my tongue. Then a shot of them swollen and wet from my mouth."