But I had a right to be upset on a practical level too. I’d had a relationship with Weston as well. I had a right to tell him what I fucking wanted, especially when it fell on the heels of our closet encounter.
After a deep breath—when I was sure I wouldn’t cry—I started in on my defense. “I didn’t tell Weston be—”
But I was too slow and Donovan cut in once more. “Do you think you can handle that?” He barely waited before adding, “Well?”
I paused for several seconds. “Are you going to actually let me answer?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Go ahead.”
Reminding myself that this wasn’t the first time I’d sparred with Donovan and yet somehow survived gave me confidence.
“Look.” I stood up and circled around to the front of my desk. “I told Weston that I had sex with you so that he wouldn’t feel guilty for having sex with Elizabeth. It was the right thing to do. I wasn’t informing him about ‘us’. I’ve told no one else, and I have no plans to. But what I do with my life and my body, at times, affects people besides you, and when it does, I do intend to be open with them. Do you think you can handle that?”
Donovan was silent for a few beats, his features unreadable. Finally his head tilted questioningly. “Weston slept with Elizabeth? That makes things confusing for the pool.”
I threw my head back. “That’s what you got out of that? Did you listen to anything else I said?”
“I heard you,” he said, flatly. “I’m glad we’re in agreement on the matter.”
“You’re glad we’re in agreement? What’s that supposed to mean?” I was the one who sounded worked up now, but honestly, Donovan didn’t appear any more relaxed than he did when he walked in.
He crossed his arms in front of him. “We both are on board with a just sex, no strings private affair. That makes things simple.”
Fuck if anything felt simple. I still had fresh wounds; some that I was sure were going to leave bruises. Even if I didn’t want Donovan to see the deeper injuries, the surface damage he’d done deserved an apology at the very least.
“Was that your way of addressing the subject?” I asked, bristling. “You accuse me of making a big scandal and when you find out you’re wrong you say I heard you, that’s simple, and that’s all I get?”
His lips curled up slightly, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “No. You get dinner. Eight o’clock. The driver will text.”
“You still want dinner?” To say I was appalled was putting it mildly.
Before I knew it, he was in front of me. “Now I’m more interested in dessert.” With his thumb and forefinger, he pinched my already erect nipple. “I believe you are too.”
He pinched harder, and something about the cold, intense way he stared into me as he delivered the pain made me feel it was more than an erotic gesture. It was a warning. Or a punishment. Or proof that this situation wasn’t as simple as he wanted to believe it was, and this was the outlet of his frustration.
It confused me more. Riled me up more. But as much as I wanted to pretend it didn’t affect me, I couldn’t help the whimper that escaped.
“I like that,” he whispered against my mouth then kissed me quickly, ending with a painful nip of my lower lip.
“See you later,” he said then started to go, leaving me a mess. Leaving me unsteady and turned on and annoyed and pissed off, and somehow, out of everything up in the air, my head went back to there’s no us. If there was no us, what was this? What was it when he and I were together like this, surrounded by such a strong field of electricity that we were practically wired together? Wasn’t that an us?
He meant a romantic us. I knew that and to make the argument would be to debate semantics, a battle I’d never win with Donovan.
But I had enough of a temper fuming that I had to direct it somewhere. “Didn’t Weston explain why I told him?”
Donovan hesitated, his hand on the door handle. “He didn’t say anything. He made a joke. It felt too direct to be a coincidence.”
All the blood that had drained from my face earlier returned with a flourish. Donovan hadn’t even had any proof that I’d said anything at all. He’d accused me on a fucking whim. I’d been pissed but now I reached a new level. A level that was somehow more intense and yet eerily calmer.
“I don’t even know what to say to you right now.” The flatness of my tone scared even myself.
“Wasn’t like I was wrong.” His sneer looked sexier on him than it should.
No, that wasn’t what happened. “You said…”
When I trailed off, he finished for me. “I said ‘You told Weston’. I never said he told me anything.”
I felt hot. Like my physical temperature was rising.
Donovan looked at me with a delighted smirk. “You know, the harder you glare at me, the more I look forward to dinner.”
Dinner? “You’ve got quite the balls, Kincaid.” I was amazed I could talk so steadily. I was seething. “I can’t believe you expect me to still show up tonight. I’m so pissed off right now.”
The smirk turned into a grin. “Take it out on me later. You’ll feel better. I promise.” He slipped out the door before I could respond.
I ignored the phone as it began ringing on my desk and stormed after him. “Donovan!”
I’d opened the door in time to see him disappearing around the hall corner. There was no way he didn’t hear me call after him, but he didn’t stop. Didn’t turn around. Which was probably a good thing since there was another figure waiting for me outside my office.
“Oh, hi, Mr. Hoder,” I said to my one thirty appointment, hoping I didn’t look as agitated as I felt.
“I was just calling to let you know he was here,” Ellen said, hanging up her phone. The ringing stopped behind me.
Dammit. There wasn’t anything I could do about Donovan now. Clearly, I’d have to deal with him later.
The next two hours were spent in meetings with clients, but when I had a chance to breathe, I found that not only was I still mad, but that my anger toward Donovan had gone from simmering to boiling.
Maybe I’d be able to get over his jackass behavior, but I needed some time to process. There was no way I could see him as soon as tonight.
When I got a chance, I rang Ellen and asked her to get him on the phone.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Lind,” she said when she called back a few minutes later. “His assistant said he’s unavailable at the moment. Would you like me to leave a message for him to call you back?”
I almost growled, and not in the sexy way, but in the I’m-going-to-kill-something-with-my-bare-hands way, especially if that something was named Donovan Kincaid.
“What was that?” Ellen asked, trying to interpret the sound of my murderous rage.
“No message,” I said and hung up loudly. Well, if he was avoiding my call, he couldn’t avoid a text. He didn’t usually have his cell phone out at work, but he’d get the message in time.
Canceling dinner, I typed and hit send.
His response came before I could even put my phone down. Why?
Did this really require an explanation? I made my answer as simple as possible. You’re an asshole.