turned to horror, and then that rosy embarrassed color she’d had since he’d brought up PDA deepened to an amazing shade of red. She crossed her arms over her chest again, but this time it was more a gesture of modesty, like he could see through her clothes. “Oh, my God. It was bad enough to know it happened even though I didn’t remember it. But to know that you do and I don’t …”
Now he felt like some kind of pervert, which made absolutely no sense at all. And he had no idea what he should say to take that vulnerable, disgusted-with-herself look off her face.
“Did I—? Did we …?” Lorelei pushed to her feet and picked up her purse. “Oh, God. I have to leave now.”
“It was just sex, Lorelei.”
“Oh, well, that completely alleviates my mind. Thank you.”
“You want a rundown? A play-by-play?”
Her eyes widened. “You could provide that?”
He let his silence answer her question.
She swallowed hard and cleared her throat. “Oh, this just keeps getting better and better.”
Now he felt like a twisted pervert. “Lorelei …”
She squared her shoulders. “I think you’re right, Donovan. We should just ignore the innuendo and laugh it off if anyone has the bad manners to bring it up. Forgetting it ever happened doesn’t seem to be an option anymore—at least for you—but we’ll go with pretending it didn’t.” Lorelei grabbed her purse from the couch and a bitter laugh escaped. “I mean, who’s really going to believe it, right? Me and you? Please. I can barely believe it. It’s absurd.”
The more she tried to convince herself, the more insulted he got. He wasn’t a leper, for God’s sake, and most women wouldn’t be acting as if they’d committed some gross, shameful, unforgivable sin like Lorelei was. Most normal women—women who weren’t like Lorelei and her ilk—considered him a pretty good catch and would be trying to capitalize on this instead of flagellating themselves over it. Their hook-up might have been insane, but it certainly hadn’t crossed over into the absurd. They were both of the same species, whether Lorelei wanted to admit that or not.
She might not remember it, but she’d enjoyed herself. It wasn’t as if he’d forced her into his bed, either. She’d been a willing, active participant who’d gone to sleep with a smile on her face.
His ego had had just about enough of the martyr act, and when Lorelei tried to brush past him, heading for the door, still muttering about absurdity, he grabbed her elbow and turned her to face him.
“I won’t have the ‘bad manners’ to bring this up the next time we meet, Princess, but at least let me leave you with the truth. It was hot, sweaty, athletic sex, and you enjoyed it. You’re quite flexible, you know.”
Lorelei swallowed hard. He had to give her credit, though. She met his eyes and never wavered as he described, in graphic detail, the way she’d ridden him like a polo pony and begged for more. Her pupils dilated until only a small ring of blue remained, and her breathing turned shallow. But as his skin heated with the memory and his erection pressed painfully against his zipper, he cursed the fact he’d let his ego and pride take it this far. Being this close to Lorelei allowed the scent of her perfume to fill his nose with each breath, sending sharp pangs through his belly. Even the soft skin of her arm where he held it seemed to sear his fingers. When her tongue snaked out to moisten her lips he could practically feel it moving over his skin instead.
The air around them felt charged and heavy, and time slowed to a standstill as he let his eyes wander down to her lips and then to the pink flush climbing out of her cleavage. He had so much more to throw at her, but the words seemed trapped in his chest under the desire to do something entirely different.
Lorelei closed her eyes and took a deep but unsteady breath. When her eyes met his again he saw regret there. “You know, the worst part of this isn’t what other people might think.”
He braced himself.
“What really kills me is that you remember it and I don’t.”
The words were out there before Lorelei could stop them, and Donovan’s sharp intake of breath had her regretting them instantly. The moment he’d touched her, though, every nerve in her body had cried out, wanting more of what her mind couldn’t quite remember but her skin obviously did.
And his words … Crude as they were, they had spoken to something inside her, awakening that same feeling of frustration she’d faced every morning this week. The achy need in her core, the shivers in her belly … She wanted to find the cause and the cure.
Donovan is both, her mind whispered.
Lorelei gritted her teeth. That wasn’t an option. The last thing she needed right now was to get involved with anybody. This was a time to focus on her professional life, not her personal life. Hell, it was probably that focus that had led her to Donovan’s bed in the first place; she hadn’t had the time for a social life—and hadn’t wanted the scrutiny, either—and celibacy must not sit well with her. If she gave in to that little whisper, it could torpedo everything.
She stepped back quickly, breaking the web of heat and electricity that had snared her and led to that embarrassing admission. The air felt cooler immediately, and rationality returned. At least until she looked at Donovan. His eyes were hot, his body tense. It awoke something primal in her that was almost impossible to ignore.
She swallowed hard. Once again she needed a dignified exit. “I’ve got to go.”
She didn’t wait for a response, and focused instead on looking casual and carefree as she left Donovan’s office. Donovan was right: coming here had just given that one sentence legs to stand on, so she forced herself to look unbothered. Normal.
She pasted a false smile on her face and kept her head up as she exited the building and crossed to the lot across the street where she’d parked. Once safely inside, with the doors locked and the AC running full-blast, the pride that had buoyed her out of there deflated.
Not only was she never drinking again, she was going to go online today and order herself a chastity belt. Maybe she should just drive straight to the convent and beg to be taken in for her own protection. There had to be something really disturbingly wrong in her brain for her to be in this position.
To be honest, one line in a newspaper was nothing. She’d had far more accurate and damaging reports printed about her before. Her mother’s garden club might be twittering about it—but, honestly, it would pass. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d downplayed something until it went away. No, she had to face the fact that she’d grabbed on to to the flimsiest of excuses to go and see Donovan and ended up having her worst suspicions confirmed.
It was one thing to have no shame; it was another thing entirely to realize she had no pride, either.
That’s not true. She did have her pride. The fact she’d gotten the information she wanted and was currently sitting in her car alone was proof she possessed a spine and self-control. Her dignity might be a little dented, but her pride was intact.
If feeling a little shaky.
In a way, she should be glad that Donovan was at the center of this debacle. It wasn’t as if their paths
