“Really?”
“Yeah. I usually try the audiotapes first with female clients, but if they need something visual, that’s the direction I go. Women say the guys are better looking, and there’s no girl with fake reactions and too much makeup to distract them.”
“Huh. Never thought about it that way, but it makes sense. It was pretty compelling until I remembered that it was my little brother’s wanking material.” She wrinkled her nose.
He huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah, that could be a mood killer.”
He was silent for a while, and she traced a finger around the edge of her cup. “I guess I at least have a place to start now. I like having a plan of attack. Although, I’m not sure which topics to tackle first.”
He pulled out his phone and started typing, still not looking at her. “This will help. I’ll email you our sexual history intake form we use for clients. It covers the gamut of sexual activities. Go through it tonight and familiarize yourself with it. If you don’t know what something is, Google it. If something triggers a strong reaction in you, star it so that you know it’s a potential stumbling block you need to work on. And maybe that will mean watching videos on the topic or delving deeper into it.”
“Delving deeper?”
He tucked his phone in his pocket and finally met her eyes. “Yeah. Talking with me about it, asking questions, setting up observation if we need to. Lane is okay with therapists observing his sessions if the client feels comfortable with that. And I have an open invite to that kink club in New Orleans. I could take you there and let you watch some of the public scenes and talk to members. They’d be happy to help.”
She nodded. The thought of remaining professional with Donovan at her side while watching people have sex sounded like a hundred levels of torture, but she could be a grown-up about this. “Okay.”
Donovan’s gaze held hers, something pained there. “And I’m sorry that I crossed the line tonight with what I said. I want you to feel safe and respected in this position. And I want you to be able to come to me with questions and learn without any other kind of pressure on you. The fact that we slept together before or that I’m still attracted to you now are moot points. I’m sorry those things invaded tonight. The wine was probably a bad idea.”
She swallowed past the dryness in her throat. Part of her wanted to shout at the heavens in frustration. It’d been so long. She’d been on the shelf for so goddamned long. And now this gorgeous, intelligent man was saying he wanted to sleep with her and she couldn’t act on it. She had to be responsible. Practical. Do the right thing.
She was so fucking tired of doing the right thing. “It’s fine. No big deal.”
Donovan reached for her hand and captured it between his warm palms. “And I’ve had too much to drink and am probably not expressing it well, but I really am sorry about what happened with your mom. I know what it’s like to lose a parent. And I know what it’s like to show up too late, to wonder what if, to worry that you’re partly to blame. The night my parents were killed, I was the one who forgot to set the house alarm. I wouldn’t wish that kind of guilt on anyone.”
She rolled her lips inward and nodded, his words hitting her right in the gut and making her chest hurt not just for herself but for him, too.
He held on to her hand and with his other, reached out and cupped the side of her face, sending trailing warmth down her spine. “I’m so sorry if I contributed to that horrible night for you. I was selfish. I shouldn’t have—”
“No.” She closed her eyes, wanting to lean into his touch but holding the urge in check. “Please don’t take it back. For a long time, those days with you were the only good I could hold on to, the only normal I could remember. Everything else was such a disaster. Of course, I wish I could go back in time and see the things I missed with my mom, intervene before it was too late. I regret not being home that night. But I never regretted what happened between us.”
“Not even now?” he asked softly.
She opened her eyes, meeting his stare. His touch felt so right, and the way he was looking at her transported her back in time. He got it. Like no one else could, he got what it was like to have those big, looming specters in your life—what-ifs, blame, loss. His thumb ran along her cheek, and he wasn
’t moving away. Something swirled between them, sparked. She wanted to kiss him more than she’d wanted anything in a long damn time. Needed it. She licked her lips.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” A loud, exaggerated voice broke through the private space Marin and Donovan had weaved between them. “I didn’t notice you there.”
Donovan jerked back, dropping his hand to his side, and turning his head. Marin immediately looked toward the intruder as well and found a blond woman in a tracksuit giving them a chilly smile.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Marin had forgotten where they were.
A muscle in Donovan’s cheek flexed. “Hi there, Dr. McCray. Out for a run?”
“Yep.” She eyed the cups they were holding. “Out for . . . a drink?”
“Just a quick celebratory drink in honor of Dr. Rush surviving her first day on the X-wing. It’s tradition.”
Marin frowned. She had no idea if it was tradition or not, but she got the distinct sense that Donovan was lying. She also knew this woman had seen way more than them drinking. You don’t cup the face of your co-worker. She cleared her throat, stood, and held out her hand. “Marin Rush.”
The woman gave Marin’s hand an overly firm shake. “Elle McCray.”
“Elle’s the head physician in the addiction wing,” Donovan offered. “She’s also one of your go-to’s if you have a client who needs to be evaluated for a medical condition or needs a prescription.”
Marin offered the most professional smile she could muster. “Great. Look forward to working with you, then.”
Dr. McCray didn’t respond. Instead, she sent Donovan a look, one edged with something sharp and deadly.