and he made the noise again. More desperate now. I made quick work of his belt and slacks and boxers. A surge of power washed over me, despite my submissive position. He was naked, beginning to unravel already, and I had barely touched him. His hands were plastered against the wall by his hips, so careful not to grab or startle. Letting me run the show.
He whispered my name, and that snapped the last of my patience. I took him in my mouth, and he released a fierce growl. His thighs shook. He wouldn’t last long, and I wanted to take him there so badly. I worked him with mouth and hands, savoring the taste of him, the feel of him against my tongue, the way his entire body trembled with need and pleasure. He jerked and shook, and when a hand finally landed on the top of my head in concert with a desperate moan, I pulled back.
I watched him come with a soft shout, his eyes wide and watching me the entire time—watching with shock and wonder and gratitude. And I was right. He was gorgeous when he fell apart.
I wiped my hand on the leg of my sweatpants, and then strong arms pulled me up by the elbows. I fell against his chest, a little dizzy from the sudden change in elevation, and right into a tender kiss. The kind of soft, exploratory kiss that made all kinds of promises about what he could do with that tongue. I kissed back, silently asking for a demonstration, and somehow he understood perfectly.
This meant, however, my getting naked. The thought stopped me cold, and I pulled back enough to make him freeze. He studied my face with worried eyes that saw so much more than I wanted anyone to see. Even though I was fully clothed, I felt like the most naked person in the room.
His fingers drifted to my bare right forearm and the scarred, purplish skin there. “Tell me what you want me to do, Renee,” he whispered.
“Wait here?” I said.
He nodded.
I felt incredibly self-conscious as I pulled the curtain on my room’s only window, casting a gloom on the room that was heightened when I turned off the table lamp near the door. Shadows played on the walls and floor. I saw everything clearly, despite the darkness, but I felt better in less light. Confident enough to take off my clothes in front of a man who wasn’t my doctor for the first time since January. Confident enough to show Derek the depth of my scars and the length of my flaws.
His breath caught several times as I stripped, and I swear he stopped breathing entirely when I turned to face him. My pulse jumped and my insides twisted with nerves and need, and I didn’t know what to do or say now. Derek saved me the embarrassment by not staring. He pulled me into him and kissed me thoroughly. Then he settled us both in my bed and began a quest to kiss every bare inch of my body.
His mouth paid equal homage to both smooth and scarred skin, and my fear lifted a bit with each new exploration. I didn’t always feel his touches but I knew they were there. He wasn’t pulling away in disgust. He wasn’t avoiding the less-than-perfect parts of me. He saw it all. He wanted it all.
Emotion clogged my throat and tugged at my singing nerves.
When his kisses and caresses finally settled at my core, I nearly flew off the bed. He licked me with a hunger I hadn’t expected, a desire that fueled my own, and my body yielded easily to first one, then two fingers. I couldn’t stop the sounds I was making, didn’t want to stop. I forgot everything except him, us, this. Felt pleasure coiling deep inside, tightening, fighting its way out. My thighs shook with it, and I pulled at the bedspread, unable to do anything but fly as my orgasm crashed over me.
He was there as I came down off the intense release, holding me close, whispering things in my ear that I didn’t understand. He was hard again, the evidence hot against my quivering thigh, and I wanted him. I took a yearly injection, but still . . .
“Do you have something?” I asked.
He blinked, as if unsure what I meant, and then understanding widened his eyes. He reached over the side of the bed and grabbed his slacks. He produced a condom, which was exactly what I’d asked for, and yet couldn’t help being surprised to see.
“You raid the infirmary stock?” I asked.
He chuckled. “Believe it or not, condoms were a regular part of the supplies dropped onto the island by the government. I suppose they didn’t want us making more babies than necessary.” A touch of darkness hung on to those words. Several children had been born in Manhattan anyway, without doctors or the right medical attention.
“Well, their foresight is our good fortune.”
“It is, isn’t it?” He kissed me, then pulled back long enough to roll on the condom. “You’re certain?”
“Definitely.” I wanted him inside me so badly I ached with it. My body still trembled from my earlier orgasm and the need to see him fall apart again.
I grasped his length and guided him forward. Felt every stretch and slide as he pushed slowly, gently inside me. Once the ache of penetration disappeared, slow and gentle was off the table. I arched up to meet him, thrust after thrust, losing myself in the powerful man in me, around me. He’d taken control and I let him have it. I stopped trying to censor what came out of my mouth. I hitched my legs up around his hips and held on.
It lasted forever and ended too soon. He buried his face in my throat and moaned my name as he came, and I drifted in the aftermath, sated and happy and sad all at once. He kissed my face, my forehead, my throat, and I kissed him back, not caring that we were a sweaty mess. Fatigue settled over me like a warm blanket, weighing down my limbs and dimming my mind, and before I could stop myself, I drifted into darkness.
Twenty-one
The smell of tomato soup and coffee roused me from a dead sleep, and I rolled over in an attempt to figure out why. The fact that I was alone in bed hit me fast, and I sat up. The lamp was back on, even though the curtain was still drawn. The tray of food was on top of my dresser.
Derek sat at the foot of the bed, dressed again, watching me with a kind smile. “Hey,” he said.
“Hey.” I rubbed at my eyes. “How long did I sleep?”
“A few hours. It’s almost four.”
“Damn.”
I rolled out of bed, stretching as I went. I catalogued my lingering aches and pains as I got dressed. I wasn’t much of a bask-in-the-afterglow type, and I wasn’t about to risk Derek getting a better look at my birthday suit and realizing he didn’t like what he saw. Afternoon sunlight glared at me when I opened the curtain and then the window to let in fresh air.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
“Famished.” And I was, for a change. The soup had cooled to gulping temperature and I wasn’t shy about my appetite. The only thing I was shy about was Derek himself. I didn’t know what to think of him anymore, or of us. If there even was an us. Could there be an us?
“Any news?” I asked after I settled on the bed next to him with a mug of lukewarm coffee.
“Not that I’ve been told,” he replied. “But it’s been made clear that I’m need-to-know.”
I couldn’t argue with him there.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
“Good. Rested. No nightmares, thank God.”
He tilted his head. “Do you have nightmares often?”
“I guess. Hard not to in this line of work.”
“I can understand that. For years after the War ended, I had nightmares about my wife and son’s deaths. And about some of the battles I fought in. Lately I’ve been dreaming about last month’s copter crash in Central Park.”
That very deliberate crash had killed several Meta prisoners, and had nearly killed both Ethan and Aaron. I’d forgotten that Derek was there; he could have easily died, too, and the notion seized my heart with icy fear. Irrational fear, considering he was fine, alive, and sitting right next to me.
