Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

D erek pushed Chloe’s bra over her shoulders as she dug her fingers into his back. She felt the edge of his bed against the backs of her knees and let herself fall. The comforter, a patchwork of silk and velvet and luxurious cotton, caressed her as she scooched back so that she was fully lying on the bed.

Though Derek had fallen with her, he’d rolled to the side. Bummer, because she’d really wanted him on top of her. His weight was delicious, his body perfectly sculpted. He felt great against her.

But he was undoing her jeans and she couldn’t find fault with that. Without breaking their kiss, she started on his, flicking the button open with ease. Once the zipper was down, she tucked her hands inside and stroked the ridge of his pelvic bone, scrumptiously delineated.

He was trying to pull her jeans down, but they were super skinny and she had to help. Also, there were her damn boots. Reluctantly, she pulled her mouth from his. “Hold on.” She leaned down and unzipped her right boot.

“Oh, let me,” he said, his voice sultry. “Please.”

She heard his shoes hit the floor as he pulled her unzipped boot from her leg. Her sock followed suit, his fingers coasting along her calves as he slowly tugged it off. Then he moved to her other boot, drawing it from her leg with a methodic precision that only amped her desire. When had footwear removal become remotely sexy? Done by the right person, it was apparently one of the most erotic things in the world.

When her feet were bare, he pulled her jeans down her legs—no easy feat given their snug fit—but again he did it slowly and deliciously. Plus, he was staring at her intently, like he couldn’t get enough of what he saw. She’d never felt more beautiful.

“Now, these are terribly sexy,” he said, inching up her legs and looping his fingertip in the top of her low-rise bikini underwear. They matched her bra and she was quite glad that she’d taken the time to buy at least one nice set of lingerie. Wishful thinking had turned into a lucky move.

He leaned up and pressed kisses along the lacy top. She worked not to jerk her hips, both because it was just a bit ticklish and because heat leapt to her core. He’d brought her insanely close to orgasm in the living room just by touching and kissing her breasts, and now she was moving toward the summit again.

Then he was pulling the garment from her, again with slow, tantalizing strokes, so that the lace abraded her thighs in the most delectable way. Moments later, she was nude beneath him.

“No fair,” she murmured as he gazed down at her. “You’re still wearing pants.”

He rolled to the side to pull his jeans off, but she followed him. “Again, no fair,” she said. “You got to take mine off.”

He grinned up at her as she tugged his jeans over his hips to reveal his boxer briefs. His jeans came off far more easily than hers had, so she focused her attention on his underwear. Copying him, she slipped her fingertips beneath the waistband, her gaze locked with his. Then she deviated from his example and tucked her hand inside to clasp his length. He was hot and hard and utterly ready. She licked her lips, eliciting a groan from him. With a wicked smile, she pulled his briefs down, but not all the way off. She just couldn’t resist teasing him. She lowered her mouth and kissed his belly, as he’d done to her. All the while, she worked her hand along his shaft. His legs parted slightly and she moved her mouth to his hip.

His hand wound through her hair. “Chloe.” He sounded like he’d just woken after a ten-year sleep or maybe swallowed gravel. Either way, it was sexy as hell.

Unable to help herself, she put her mouth on him, her tongue sliding over his hot tip, tasting his slick saltiness.

“Chloe,” he rasped.

Then he kicked his underwear free and in a sweet, swift move, turned her and moved her up the bed so that he was fully on top. “Talk about unfair,” he murmured between kisses, “I didn’t get my chance with you there.”

“There will be plenty of time for that.” I hope, she silently added, though as good as she felt right now she couldn’t imagine anything else.

His fingers coasted up her thighs and found her core, stroking her folds and settling on her clit. Her hips bucked up, her orgasm coming fast and sure. She opened her legs and urged him to come inside before she went over the edge.

Perhaps sensing her imminent orgasm, he teased her, dragging his finger around the periphery of her clit without actually touching it. She pumped her hips, looking for him, begging for release.

At last, the head of his penis was there and she moaned into his mouth. Then the teasing stopped. He thrust deep and sure, and Chloe splintered into a thousand mind-blown pieces.

He kissed her temple as her orgasm slammed through her. She cried out and kissed his neck, his earlobe, his jaw, and finally his mouth as he began to move inside of her. He filled her so wonderfully, so perfectly. Her orgasm had just begun to fade as another started to build.

She moved her hands to his butt, feeling the muscles there and marveling at his beauty and the fact that he was—for right now and hopefully for a very long time if not forever—hers.

Forever?

His increased speed forced her mind from such thoughts and she was lost to the rhythm of their bodies and the slide of their flesh moving together.

He moved faster, and she knew he was close. But then he slowed. She moved her mouth to his ear. “Don’t stop. I want you to come. Now.” There would be plenty of time—hadn’t he said that?—for long, drawn-out lovemaking. Right now she wanted to feel him come undone.

And so he did.

She wrapped her legs around his hips as he pumped into her several times. He cried out her name as his orgasm wracked his body. She held on to him as she came again.

As their bodies slowed and stilled, bone-deep satisfaction settled into her. He nudged his head against hers and kissed her slowly, deeply. Then he pulled his head up and stared down into her eyes. “All right?”

“Fantastic.” Best sex of her life without question.

They snuggled another few minutes before he finally pulled out. “Water?” he asked.

“Please.”

He got up and walked toward the kitchen. Before turning around the corner and fading from view, he looked back with a smile. “Bathroom’s through there.” He gestured to a doorway opposite the bed, next to another television. The guy liked his TV, apparently. She wondered, naughtily, what he liked to watch in bed. She’d have to ask him that.

She got up and went into the bathroom. Like the rest of the apartment, it was ultramodern and gorgeously appointed. There was a tile shower with two spigots, one regular and one a rain-style that hung from the ceiling. The sink was rectangular and floated on the wall. Two free-standing cupboards stood beneath it with fluffy ivory towels folded on top. There was even a sleek, jetted tub beneath a panel of windows that looked out to his patio. Or would, if they weren’t shuttered.

She tidied herself up and saw him come up behind her in the mirror with a glass of water. She took it from him, their fingers touching for a tad longer than necessary, and brought it to her lips. She never stopped looking at him—nor he at her—while she drank. Appeasing her thirst, she set the glass on the edge of the wide sink. “Great bathroom. That shower is amazing.”

“Want to get in it?” he asked, with a lascivious grin that made her laugh and sparked her desire again.

“Now?” she asked, thinking they’d snuggle or go to sleep or something.

He turned the water on and kissed her. “Is there something else you’d rather do?”

Energy—and need—coursed through her as he adjusted the temperature of the water. She answered him by wrapping her arms around his neck and standing on tiptoe to kiss him more thoroughly. He moved with her into the shower.

Then he pushed a button and water cascaded over them from above. It was like standing in a warm rain making out. Very sexy.

As soon as his hands caressed her breasts and arced down over her ass, she abandoned conscious thought. Later, as they toweled off, she reflected that she was glad she’d never had sex in a shower before.

When he was dry, he wrapped his towel around his waist and padded into the bedroom. Unsure, she followed him as she dried her hair.

“So is this the part where we snuggle? Or the part where I throw my clothes on and dash home? Though that’ll be much easier after I move. I’m pretty sure I can walk from here, which is great.”

He’d been walking around the side of the bed, but when his movements arrested for a moment, she realized she’d screwed up by mentioning the move to his house. Stupid, stupid.

She hurriedly walked to him and gently touched his back. “Sorry. I’d love to stay, if that’s okay.”

He turned and though he gave her a smile, it was weak, and his eyes no longer held the intensity they’d carried all night. “I have an early meeting, actually. It’s probably better if I drive you home tonight. I’m the one who’s sorry.”

His regret sounded genuine, but that didn’t lessen Chloe’s disappointment. He’d made this date, they’d both known how it would end up—or at least she was pretty damned sure they’d both hoped this was how it would end up—and now he wanted to drive her home?

She tried to think of something to say that wouldn’t make her sound whiny or clingy. She didn’t want to be that girl. Then again, she also didn’t want to be a doormat. “I understand. But this is a one-time pass. I’m not a dabble and dash kind of girl.”

“I get it.” He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her softly. “Like I said, my bad. And I will make it up to you.”

Later, as he drove her back to the Archer house well after midnight, doubt pricked her mind. He’d been wonderfully solicitous as they’d dressed and the whole way home, but he’d also been distant. Was it the house? Or was it something else? He claimed to have a work thing tomorrow that prevented her from spending the night. Was that true, and if it was, would his work take precedence over her if they built a relationship? Before she and Ed had moved in together eighteen months ago, Ed had never wanted to stay with her on a “work night.” This, unfortunately, smacked of that and Chloe had to ask herself if history was repeating itself.

As she watched Derek’s taillights fade into the night, she crossed her fingers and hoped not.