“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Nate likes you fine, and we both know Weston is more concerned with what’s under your skirt than what’s inside your head.” But he was smiling. He knew I was talking about him.
“You’re an incredible asshole.” I smiled back. Begrudgingly.
Donovan let go of my leg. “Now, Weston isn’t going to fire you, but if you want something permanent with him, you do have some work to do.”
I perked to attention. “What do you mean?”
“Weston will lose interest.”
Oh. For a second, I’d thought he’d been talking about my career. I’d forgotten the stupid thing I’d told Donovan about pursuing Weston when his marriage was over.
I started to say something in protest about Weston, but then Donovan reached for my other foot and began to repeat his massage, and my focus was captured once again.
“He’s going to stay interested in you longer than usual, I predict,” Donovan continued while I swallowed back a groan, “simply because it’s forbidden right now. That’s intriguing to him.”
He found a particularly sensitive spot, and he pressed his thumb in deeper.
I bit my lip.
“But after the wedding ring comes off, he’s going to get bored and that’s a fact. It’s his M.O. So don’t bother shedding tears about it. It’s nothing to do with you.”
Donovan paused massaging and speaking, waiting to make sure I understood.
What I understood was how good his hands felt on me, but hurriedly I mentally replayed everything he’d just said, putting his words into context.
I ran two fingers across my forehead. “Let me see if I get this. ‘Go after Weston; you’d be good for him, but don’t be bummed when he gets tired of you; that’s just his thing.’ Correct me if I’m wrong, but that almost sounds like you’re reversing your endorsement for our coupling.”
If Donovan were actually trying to keep me from being with Weston…well, that would have implications. Implications that I wasn’t sure what to do with. Though I liked the way they felt to think about, even as tentative as they were.
“Not at all. I’m doubling down on the endorsement not only by giving you this warning but also by telling you what you should do to make sure he doesn’t get tired of you.”
“You’re going to tell me how to keep Weston interested.” The disappointment in my voice sounded a lot like incredulity. Maybe it was both.
“I am. You have to recognize that the problem lies with Weston. He’s a seemingly open book, but the reason he hasn’t had a serious relationship with anyone is because he’s never let a woman get past the persona he puts up to see his true self.” Donovan’s hands moved up to my ankle, burning my skin through my stockings.
How was it possible that he could both brand me and give me away all at once? It wasn’t the first time. How was I not used to it?
I wrapped my hands along the edge of the table, needing the support.
“If you want to find a place in his heart, you have to get there first.”
“Easy enough,” I said sarcastically. Maybe Donovan’s guidance was meant to be generous, but it tasted sour. It wasn’t the advice I wanted.
“I can’t tell you how to do it exactly. You’re going to have to work that out yourself. But I figure you should know something about hiding, since you do it so well.”
I tried to pull my foot away, but his grip tightened.
“You don’t know anything about me,” I lied.
“Oh, Sabrina,” he chided. His conceit irritated me. Why did it arouse me as well?
“While we’re on the subject”—his hands moved slowly up my leg—“you aren’t going to be true to yourself when you’re with him. You know that, already. You’ll have to accept it.”
I shook my head. He couldn’t really be saying what I thought he was saying.
“Don’t shake your head at me. You know what I’m talking about. He’s not going to be able to fulfill you sexually.”
“You know I’ve slept with him.”
“Thank you for the painful reminder. I’m sure you’ll tell me he made you come, too. But you and I both know there’s more to sexual fulfillment than just having an orgasm, so unless you can tell me that he can make you sleep through the night, then let’s not talk about what Weston does for you in the bedroom.”
My breathing was so shallow now, my arms covered in goose bumps. How could he know that about me? That I had trouble sleeping? That it was only my dirty fantasies that helped me rest through the night?
He couldn’t know that, that’s how. It was coincidence.
And I was taking all of this too seriously.
I let out a long breath and allowed him a smile. “This is the most fascinatingly bizarre conversation I’ve ever imagined having with you.”
Donovan’s caress changed as I relaxed. It was lighter now, long strokes up the length of my calf and to my knee. I shivered.
“Have you imagined many?”
My smile faded. I’d given myself away. Yes. I’d imagined so many conversations with him over the years, but there was no way I could tell him the things we’d talked about in my head.
“I have,” he said, his voice thick.
The air suddenly felt heavier, like it was harder to breathe it in, and it didn’t matter anymore that he was an asshole or that he was giving me advice about Weston because he’d imagined us too.
“What do we say to each other?” I asked tentatively, afraid to break the honesty.
“We say a lot of things.” He placed a hand on my opposite calf and stood up, his fingers trailing up my legs as he rose. “Sometimes we say nothing at all.”
He was standing in front of me now. My legs nudged open wider, instinctively. Automatically he moved closer, filling the gap and pressing right up against the table.
I hated how much I wanted him to kiss me.
“Why do you do this to me?” I whispered.
His lips hovered above mine. Dancing. Teasing. “Do what?”
“Trap me like this.”
“It makes me feel like I have you.”
I ached at my core. “I don’t want you to feel like you have me.”
“Are you sure of that?”
I wasn’t, and the joke was we both knew it. Every reason I had for staying away from him was valid, but if he kissed me now, I wouldn’t be able to stop. If he kissed me now...
I tilted my chin up.
“Whoops! Sorry to interrupt.” One of my team leaders stood at the door, his hands covering his eyes.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
There wasn’t a rule about dating across departments, but this wasn’t the reputation I wanted.
I pushed Donovan away and jumped down. “It’s fine, Tom. What’s up?”
Tom lowered his hand, seemingly relieved that he wasn’t in trouble for what he’d walked in on. “They have a campaign. Meeting in the conference room now to see the presentation.”
“Excellent. I’m right behind you.” I waited until Tom was gone before turning back to slip on my shoes. “I have to go,” I said to Donovan, unable to look him in the eye.