One to Save (One to Hold 6)

He hadn’t been trying to wake me, yet the sound of t

hat break tightened my throat. Anxiety moved across my chest, and I slid my palms down his forearms to entwine our fingers.

Sensitivity to my environment is a skill I learned the hard way during my final months in Sloan’s mansion. I’d slept with a can of pepper spray clutched beneath my pillow, all my senses on alert against any changes as I slept.

Only one thing has ever scared Derek, according to him, and that “thing,” that threat—my ex-husband—has been dealt with. How exactly, I still don’t know, but I believe Derek’s words. So if Sloan is no longer a threat, what’s tormenting my love?

I whispered his name in the darkness. Clutching our hands, he wrapped them around my waist as his mouth moved to the top of my shoulder. My head dropped back against him, and we held each other several long, quiet moments, our hearts beating together, our bodies touching head to toe. We were home, our son was in his bed asleep, we were together. What could be wrong?

Releasing one of his hands, I reached up to thread my fingers into the side of his thick hair. I knew how to ease his tension. I wanted to ease his tension.

The climate in Wilmington is warmer than Princeton, so I only sleep in a thin cami and panties. His large hands spanned my bare stomach, tightening my muscles. Derek’s touch is a delicious mixture of gentle and rough. Soft lips, scruff of beard; smoothing hands, firm grip. From the first night we were together, his touch has always made me hotter, wetter than I’ve ever been with anyone.

Shrugging off my lace underwear, my eyes don’t open as he parts my thighs. His thick erection sinks deep into me, stretching me. “Oh, god,” I gasp. It’s so good.

Arching my back to allow him further access, another soft moan scrapes from my throat as his expert fingers find my clit.

Quiet words of desire, love, and appreciation rumble across my skin, and my mouth opens to release another little cry as I buck against him. Pleasure snakes up my thighs. He goes deeper, his length massaging my tightening insides.

I want it harder, and I tell him so. He’s quick to comply. Large hands grip my breasts, and we’re working together, meeting each other thrust for thrust. Moving faster, gasping and grinding, our bodies tense as we reach the crest of orgasm.

“Come, Melissa.” It’s a low order I don’t need.

I’m riding him as the pleasure lifts me out of myself. A quivering little wail comes from me as he clutches my thighs so hard, I’m sure he’ll leave a mark. We ride our orgasm to the end, moaning and trembling, then holding each other, breathing hard.

“I love you so much,” he exhales against my skin, yet even in the sparkling afterglow, that tone is still in his voice.

My chest clenches. I don’t understand. “I love you more,” I whisper back, stealing his usual line as I tighten my grip on him.

He doesn’t speak. His arms never loosen their hold. His lips touch the back of my neck, followed by the scratch of his beard. Derek’s arms are always a safe place for me—they have been since our first night in the desert. He’s sexy, wildly passionate, and deeply safe, the most erotic combination my guarded heart could desire. Whatever’s bothering him, I know we can fix it. Our love hasn’t changed. The thought comforts me as I drift to sleep again.

Sometime before dawn, my eyes open and he’s still holding me. My back is against his chest, and I’m tight in the confines of his strong arms as if I might slip away while he sleeps. I’ve become so used to it, I practically have to relearn how to sleep alone when he travels, which is rare nowadays.

A more insistent squeal from Dex brings me back to the present. It’s time to start the day. Dragging myself out of bed and staggering down the hall, I catch a glimpse of my fiancé in the kitchen already dressed and talking on his cell. His brow is lined, and I can tell we’re back to where we left off. With a sigh, I enter our son’s room.

He’s standing in his crib, holding the side. When he sees me, his blue eyes sparkle and he starts to jump. My worries about his daddy fly away, and I can’t help laughing.

“Good morning, pumpkin,” I coo, lifting him over the rail. His legs pump against my waist as he struggles to get down, out of my arms. “You want to walk, big boy?”

A week short of his first birthday, and he’s already tearing through the house. We’ve had to move all small items to the top shelves in every room as his favorite thing is pulling whatever he can reach down on his head.

“I can drive to Raleigh if I need to.” Derek’s voice is low as he speaks into his cell. That makes my brow crease. Raleigh hasn’t come up in more than a year.

When he sees me, he smiles, but it’s not his usual flood of appreciation at my presence. It’s that tight smile, the one accompanying his subtle mood-swings. He gets an impatient smile from me in response.

“We can talk more at the office. I’ll be there in ten minutes.” He disconnects and walks over to pull me into a hug. “Sorry I was late last night. I hope I made it up to you.”

I press my nose against his chest and inhale the warm, slightly woodsy scent I’ve come to associate with the greatest love of my life. I feel him kiss the top of my head. “Still working on the Nikki situation?” I ask.

Releasing me, he picks up a leather portfolio and grabs his keys. “I’m heading to the office to meet Patrick and talk to Stuart. Are you working today?”

“Later,” I say, walking to the coffee maker. I drop in a small, plastic pod, slide my mug in place, and hit the button. “Elaine and I are taking the boys to do their fittings this morning.”

His expression is confused, and I’m ready to have it out with him. I knew he hadn’t been listening to me on our drive home yesterday. “Their tuxes? For our wedding?”

“Oh, right.” He steps back to me and kisses my forehead before heading to the door. “Don’t let Dex knock over the mannequins.”

I give him a little growl, but his comment still makes me smile. Our toddler is a menace to anything in his grabbing space. Derek’s gone, so I grab a baby breakfast bar and a sippy cup of milk. Dex is in front of the flat-screen television attempting to turn it on when I return to the living room.