Fuck, now I’m turned on, and here he is with an injured back. Sighing, I ask, “Are we sure a blow job would hurt? I mean, really sure?”
Derek smirks. “I know how hard it must be for you to keep your hands off me. I’m sorry.” Lifting his eyebrows in a knowing sort of way, he goes on, “But, you know, you don’t have to keep your hands off yourself.”
I bite down on my bottom lip, mental images springing to mind. Naughty visions of lying beside him in bed, getting myself off, making him listen to my moans of pleasure. “Would it make you hard?”
“So fucking hard, Nikki. Thinking of you always gets me hard.”
Oh, God. I drop my head against his shoulder, silently cursing the incompetent asshole who injured him. Not for the first time, but definitely for more selfish reasons now. “This is torture.”
“Just think how ready you’re going to be when my back’s better. We’re gonna need to get a babysitter,” he half-jokes.
Now that he ignited the fire between my legs, it won’t stop. Arousal warms me all over, makes me more affectionate than I usually am. I adjust myself on Derek’s chest, pushing my fingers through his hair with one hand, using the other to cup his face. His lips are firm but soft. As soon as I kiss him, he takes control, even with me on top. I love it. I love him. That’s the worrying part, but I try not to think about it. I focus on the kisses, on how good they feel, how good he feels. This isn’t torment, it’s pleasure. I need to learn to tell the difference.
His hand slides between my legs, his palm brushing my thigh. Having him so close to the hungriest part of me makes me more desperate, even needier. My lips seek his more eagerly, but since he knows he has me right where he wants me, he breaks away.
“You want me to touch you, Nikki?” he murmurs against my lips.
“Yes,” I whisper, before nibbling at his lips, trying to coax him to kiss me again. I want his hands on my body, his mouth devouring me, all of his Derek magic obliterating all my thoughts and concerns. I want a break, and Derek always gives me one.
His fingers push up under my panties. Anticipation sends chills of pleasure dancing up my spine. I close my eyes, and brace for him to touch me.
The room suddenly lights up with the glow of my phone on the headboard. That’s not unusual, I get notifications all the time, but the distracting buzz of the phone vibrating against wood is something new. That only happens when I’m getting a phone call.
I’m not going to take the call, I just need to make sure it’s not a work emergency. I reach for it, tilt the screen, and freeze when I see Henry’s name flashing across the screen.
The look on my face must be pretty telling. “Who is it?” Derek asks, like he already expects bad news.
For a split second, I think about lying. Saying it’s nobody, it’s nothing, ignoring the call and going back to the moment. I don’t like lying though, and I have a feeling the moment is gone
whether I’m honest or not. Even if Derek doesn’t know who was calling, I will, and he’ll be able to tell I’m not in the moment like I was before.
“Henry,” I answer, hearing the resignation in my own voice.
Derek’s tone is dead, lacking any inflection whatsoever. “Henry.”
I nod my head, putting the phone back down on the headboard and pushing the button on the side to dim the light so the room is dark again. “Yeah.”
“What the hell is he doing calling you at this time of night? Or, I don’t know, at all?”
His possessiveness rankles, even if it probably shouldn’t. It’s no secret that he wants me to agree to exclusivity, that he wants more than I’m prepared to give him. “I’m allowed to receive phone calls from anyone I want to receive phone calls from, Derek. Henry doesn’t usually call me anymore, for the record.”
“So why is he now?” Absolutely correct suspicion leads him to the next question, “Who did you call earlier when you went outside, Nicole?”
Oh shit. Unease tickles the back of my neck at his use of my given name. He only ever calls me Nikki, so he must be legitimately mad. “I called Bethany.” Then, in keeping with my intent to be honest, I add, “But before I called Bethany, I called Henry. He didn’t answer. He probably just left work, so he’s returning my call.”
Anger burns in his blue eyes, but he keeps his cool, nodding. “And why did you call Henry?”
I want to defend myself. I could, technically, because Derek and I are casual and I’ve made no commitment to him, because when he asked me to be exclusive, I said no. But it would only lead to an argument I don’t want to have, him pushing me again to agree to something I refuse to agree to. It’s hard that he’s pursuing things I want, but I’m too afraid to let us have.
So, I summon some bravery and offer up the truth. “Because I’m out of my depths here, and I was looking for someone to tell me I would be right to self-sabotage. Henry is a workaholic like me, so he would have. Plus, you know… he hates your guts.”
Unexpectedly, the corners of Derek’s lips curve up. “Damn right, he does. Suit-wearing prick.”
“I like suits,” I offer, running a hand down his muscled chest. “I certainly liked seeing you in one at Alex’s wedding.”
“Yeah?” he murmurs, reaching up and burying a hand in my hair. He pulls my face back down to his for a kiss, and I happily melt against him.
“Yeah,” I answer softly, closing my eyes and kissing him back.