Off the Clock

  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.

  24

  Marin asked Lane for a break after Donovan disappeared, disappointment a heavy rock in her gut. She shouldn’t let it get to her. What would she have done if she’d shown up somewhere and saw Donovan dancing like that with some woman? She wouldn’t have stuck around to watch either. She’d talk to him about it tomorrow. For now, she’d finish up her night with Lane and get home.

  Lane had ordered bottles of water and she’d downed hers, parched after all the dancing. But now her bladder was begging for a break. A different band had taken the stage, and Lane was listening, his arm draped across the back of Marin’s chair. She hadn’t told him she’d seen Donovan. But she’d told Lane to stop after the kisses to her neck. He hadn’t questioned her or seemed bothered.

  She leaned over to him. “I’ll be right back. Need me to grab anything else from the bar on the way back?”

  “Nah, I’m fine. We can head out in a little while if you want.”

  “Sounds good.” She got up from the table and headed toward the back of the club. The line to the ladies’ room was impossibly long and she squirmed at the sight. No way was she going to make it that long. The sign for the men’s room pointed left at the end of the hall. She hustled that way and turned the corner into another hallway. The men’s room was located near the back door. No line. Thank God for men being efficient urinaters. With a quick peek inside the door, she made sure no one was at a urinal and then hurried inside to slip into a stall.

  She thought she was home free with her commandeering of the men’s room. But after she finished up and headed toward the sinks, two guys wa
lked in. They halted when they saw her there. But she quickly washed and dried her hands and then sent them an awkward flick of the wrist. “Uh, sorry. Just leaving. Carry on.”

  She strolled past them like she had every right to be there and rushed out the door. She let out a breath when she hit the dark hallway. Victory.

  But before she could head back up the hallway toward the club, an arm banded around her from behind and dragged her against a hard body. She let out a yelp, but a hand clamped over her mouth before the sound could fully escape. Fear crashed through her and she tried to jerk away.

  “Easy, Rush,” the familiar voice said against her ear.

  Donovan.

  She closed her eyes, her heartbeat thumping wildly and adrenaline making her wobble on her heels.

  “You thought I’d forgotten about you, huh?” he said, his voice low and dangerous against her ear. He moved his hand away from her mouth. “You thought I’d watch him put his hands and mouth on you and just walk away.”

  Her tongue pressed to the roof of her mouth, words sticking in her throat.

  “You want to fuck him?” he asked, the calmness in his voice edged with challenge. “Because he certainly wants to fuck you.”

  It was impossible to tell if his anger was genuine or if this was part of the game. A fine sheen of sweat broke out on her skin, but the nerves didn’t stop her desire from spiking like a fever. “No, I—”

  “You’re mine tonight. Every damn inch of you.” His breath was hot against her neck and his arm around her abdomen tight. “Tell me you’re mine.”

  She swallowed past the constriction in her throat. “I’m yours.”

  “Tell me who’ll be fucking you tonight.”

  She was trembling in his hold, but that initial fight-or-flight response had fallen away. What replaced it was potent and breath-stealing. Flashes of hearing Donovan’s words in the hallway that night long ago flitted through her brain. How badly she’d wanted a taste of what that felt like, to be consumed with lust for someone, to break the rules for it. “You.”

  He nuzzled her neck and her nipples stiffened beneath her dress. “Tell me your safe word.”

  It took her a second to answer, her body’s responses overtaking most of her faculties. “Blue.”

  He pushed his hips against her, his erection obvious against her backside. “You’re going to leave with me. Now’s your chance, Rush. What color is the sky?”

  She squeezed her eyes shut, goose bumps breaking out over her skin. He was giving her a chance to pull the plug, to let him know if it was too much. She’d told him she wanted the fantasies. But maybe she was jumping in too far too fast. Fear beat a tattoo against her ribs.

  His hand splayed out over her belly, sunk lower, pressing on the spot that was starting to throb. “What. Color. Is. The. Sky?”

  Her chest rose and fell with a harsh breath. The word was out before she could think too much more about it. “Green.”

  His hand curved, cupping her sex through the fabric of her dress and applying knee-weakening pressure. “You’re going to stay quiet and come with me. If you play nice, I might let your date get home tonight without getting his teeth knocked in for touching you.”

  “Lane knows about us. He . . . saw your text.” She was having trouble stringing together words with his hand stroking her. “He was . . . playing, too. He . . . liked the idea.”

  “Is that right? Hmm, maybe I should make him watch, then. Show him what he doesn’t get to have.”

  She stiffened, some weird combination of terror and illicit desire braiding through her. “No, we can’t—”

  He nipped her earlobe. “Don’t worry. Tonight, you’re only for me. But don’t think I didn’t feel you clench and catch your breath at the thought of being watched. Filthy thoughts, Rush. You should be blushing. Have you no shame?”

  “Fuck you,” she ground out but couldn’t muster any ire in it.

  “That’s the idea.” He stroked her, arousal clamoring to meet his every move, and her head tipped back against his shoulder.

  Voices sounded near the bathroom door, and Donovan dragged her back, farther into the shadowed corner, tucking them between the back door and an empty trash can. His hand shifted and slipped beneath her dress.

  She let out a whimper, but bit down on her lip when the two men she’d seen in the restroom exited. If they turned her way, they wouldn’t be able to see where Donovan’s hand had gone, but she knew everything would show on her face.

  Donovan shoved aside her panties and slid two hot fingers along her naked flesh.

  “Fuck, yes,” he growled. “Feel how soaked you already are. How bad you want this. You know what that does to me?”

  She couldn’t talk. She was already riding an edge, and his skilled fingers were rocketing her closer to it.

  Donovan released his hold on her waist and then a second hand was beneath her dress. He yanked her panties down and she gasped.

  “Step out of them,” he commanded. “When I walk you out, when you say good-bye to your date, I want to know that all that’s beneath this dress is this sexy cunt all slippery and hot for me.”

  She groaned—the words driving her just as high as his touch. She stepped out of her panties and kicked them to the side. He reached down, swept them off the floor, and tucked them into his suit jacket’s inner pocket.

  He stepped in front of her, backing her up against the wall and bracketing her with his arms. She’d seen Donovan with desire on his face. But never had she experienced the thunderous lust he was sending her way now. It hit her like an air bag. Boom. Lungs crushed. No breath.

  “I wanted you like this from the very first moment I saw you. Back then. And now.” He leaned forward, his lips brushing hers. “Tonight. I will fucking have you.”

  She shuddered, heat tracing over her skin and winding through her. “I want that, too.”

  He cupped her chin, the scent of her arousal on his fingers, and tipped her face toward him. “Go tell Lane thanks for playing and to have a good night.”

  She nodded in his grip.

  He released her and stepped back. The loss of his body heat was distinct, setting her off balance. But he grabbed her elbow and turned her, guiding her forward on weak knees.

  Every step she could feel the cool air drifting up her dress, the slide of her sex as she moved, wet and throbbing with heat. When she stepped back into the club, it felt like everyone would be able to tell just how aroused and naked she was through that thin fabric. But of course, no one paid the girl in the black dress any mind. No one except Lane.

  When he spotted her from a few tables away, his gaze slid over her and then hopped to Donovan who’d hung back a few steps. Lane gave an almost imperceptible nod to the man behind her and then swung his attention back to Marin.

  She tried to keep her back straight, her walk steady as she made her way to his table.

  Lane leaned forward, arms braced on the tabletop, and sent her a sinful smile. “So it worked?”

  She tried to speak but had to clear her throat first. “Seems so.”

  “You’re leaving then?”

  “Yes. Thank you for tonight. I really did have a nice time.” She could feel Donovan somewhere behind her, his gaze burning into her.

  Lane stood and pulled her into a gentle hug. “Thank you. You two reminded me why it’s been far too long since I’ve played these games for myself. Donovan’s a lucky bastard to have the privilege with you.”

  He let her go and she smiled. “Thanks.”

  He reached into his pocket and then placed a card in her hand. “I imagine you’re very safe with Donovan. But you should have a friend you can trust to check in with when you play. Text me later and let me know you’re okay. Doesn’t matter what time.”

  She was touched by the gesture. Lane could’ve been pissed she’d dragged him into this. Instead, he was offering to be her phone-a-friend. She dropped the card into her purse and then pushed up on her toes and gave him a kiss on the cheek. ?
??You’re a good guy, Lane Cannon.”

  He smirked. “Not that good. Have fun, Dr. Rush.”

  Donovan stepped up behind her then, placing a proprietary hand on her lower back. “Time to go.”

  He didn’t ask. He told. She found she didn’t mind. “Okay.”

  Donovan looked to Lane and put his other hand out to him. “Lane.”

  Lane shook Donovan’s hand. “Doc.”

  It was a firm shake, the testosterone high, but Marin didn’t sense malice there, only a current of respect. “I trust this stays between the three of us and will not affect any working relationships.”

  Lane nodded. “Of course.”

  “Thank you.” Donovan released Lane’s hand and nodded a good-bye.

  With that, he guided Marin forward through the crowded club, his hand warm against her back. To outside eyes, they probably looked like such a proper couple. She in an unassuming black dress, he in a crisp dark suit. Two professionals out for drinks who might go home and have nice, polite sex.

  But when they stepped outside into the muggy night air, Donovan’s hand slid down to her ass, his grip punishing and his message clear.

  She was his tonight.

  And he would have his way.

  God, did she want to let him.

  25

  Donovan had to reel himself in as he drove away from the club, Marin next to him, the subtle scent of her arousal perfuming the air. The woman was temptation personified. She had no idea how far to the edge she’d already driven him tonight. Seeing her dancing with Lane, his hands and mouth on her—Donovan had wanted to claim Marin right there like some chest-pounding caveman. But Lane had looked up while he’d mouthed Marin’s throat, catching Donovan’s attention. Lane had told him all he needed to know with that look. Come and get her, doc. She’s mighty sweet. Lane had become part of the game.

  And though Donovan wasn’t on board with sharing Marin with anyone, the interplay had turned him the hell on. Because it meant Marin was all in. She was willing to dance along those boundaries, push the limits, test him. She was a fucking vixen wrapped in the trappings of a virgin. Her responses were so purely sensual, so hungry, that he had to keep himself from wanting to rush into trying every damn thing with her. Her shame instinct was there, but once she was turned on, all those shackles broke away. She’d shivered at the thought of Lane watching them fuck. Not fear. Curiosity. She’d spent a life eating white bread and now a lavish feast was spread before her and she wanted a taste of it all.