CHAPTER 11
Then he pulled her against him, wrapping his arms around her and soaking in the warmth of her presence. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and closed his eyes, silently grateful she hadn't run. That she had the courage to give them a chance.
That was all he could ask for. If he had this—her—he'd need nothing else.
"Sandra, look at me, sweetheart," he murmured. He tilted her chin up so their eyes could meet.
"If this is hurting you, if it's too much, I won't ask it of you. I only want us both to be happy. Hopefully, together."
"I won't know if being with you will make me happy unless we try," she replied quietly. Her voice wavered, and she licked her lips. "I do want to try, Derrick. But I need you to be patient with me. I feel lost. I don't know how to do this. I never thought I'd be in this place."
He brushed his thumb over her cheek, gently wiping away the remnants of her tears.
"We've got time, Sandra. There's no rush. Just give me your trust—and your willingness to explore this with me. I promise I'll never make you regret it."
Her eyes shimmered, a soft light sparking deep within them. Desire flickered in her gaze. The word "submission" had ignited something in her.
"What do we do now?" she whispered.
"For now, come inside. Let me make you a cup of coffee. Let's just sit and talk. I want to take this slow, Sandra. We're not in a hurry. I've waited this long—I can wait a little longer."
"I'd like that," she said, her voice warmer now, steadier.
He saw it in her eyes. Acceptance—not just of what he wanted from her, but of them. Together. As a couple. He searched her gaze for hesitation but found none. Her eyes held only determination. And maybe, just maybe, hope.
His heart nearly burst. She was here. With him. Willing to try. Willing to be his.
"There's something else we need to talk about," he said, thinking back to his call with James.
Her brows furrowed slightly, sensing the change in his tone.
"What is it, Derrick? Is something wrong?"
He took her hand in his and led her into the house.
"No, not wrong. But it's something important. Something I want you to hear from me."
Her posture stiffened, but she followed him into the kitchen. He poured two cups of coffee and warmed them up before handing her one.
"Come on. Let's sit in the living room where we can be more comfortable."
Once she was settled on the couch, he took the chair across from her, even though every part of him wanted her back in his arms.
He sipped his coffee, trying to decide what to say first. Should he strengthen their emotional connection or drop the news about the business?
He winced inwardly. One thing at a time.
"I know all of this was overwhelming, especially with it being the anniversary of Clement's death," he began. "I need you to know that I never intended to confront you that day. I wanted to give you time, to let you grieve. But seeing you at The House... I couldn't stay silent any longer. You forced my hand."
"I understand," she said softly. "And I'm sorry, Derrick. I don't remember if I said that before, but I am. Sorry for how it happened. Sorry that it happened at all. I was... ashamed, honestly. That's not how I wanted you to find out."
(Two Weeks Later)
Derrick eased down on top of her, careful not to crush her with his weight. He supported himself on his forearms, mindful of how fragile she looked beneath him. But it wasn't her body he was most worried about—it was her heart.
He didn't want to scare her. Didn't want her to pull away from him, ever. The thought of her looking at him with fear made his stomach turn.
Brushing a hand along her face, he drank her in. Memorized every curve, every line. He could hardly believe this was real. That she was here, in his bed, her skin against his, vulnerable and open.
He was overwhelmed. More than he'd ever been.
"I've waited so long for this," he said hoarsely. "For you."
She smiled and pressed her cheek into his palm, then kissed his hand. The simple gesture made his heart twist in his chest.
"Make love to me, Derrick," she whispered. Her eyes were bright with emotion and glimmering desire.
He lowered his lips to hers, inhaling the soft scent of her as he kissed her, his tongue slipping into her mouth, exploring her slowly.
He was already so hard it hurt. The pressure was unbearable. He needed to be skin to skin, nothing between them.
"Give me a minute to get these clothes off," he murmured against her lips. "Don't move."
She gave a small smile and stretched her arms above her head in a quiet show of surrender. Was it intentional? A wordless offering of trust?
He shed his clothes quickly, clumsy in his urgency. Her eyes widened when she saw him, and he glanced down, realizing how painfully aroused he was. His cock strained, pulsing and swollen.
He didn't dare touch himself. Not yet. He wouldn't last if he did.
"You're incredible, Derrick," she said, her cheeks coloring.
Heat flooded his face at her words. He was rarely self-conscious, but something about her gaze made him want to be perfect for her.
"No, Sandra. You're the beautiful one," he said sincerely. "You make me ache."
She arched, inviting him in. He didn't need more encouragement. He climbed into the bed, not as a dominant force but simply as a man desperate to be with the woman he adored.
"Open your legs for me," he said, his voice thick. "Let me see you. I've been dreaming of tasting you. I want to make you come on my tongue."
She shivered, goosebumps rising on her skin. Her nipples pebbled under his gaze, and he knew she was ready.
When she parted her thighs, revealing herself to him, he was struck by how wet she already was. She wanted this. Wanted him.
But he held back.
Sliding down, he settled between her legs, brushing a finger along her folds. When he touched her clit, she gasped, arching into him. He gently teased her opening, dipping one finger inside. She was soaked, her body begging for more.
But he wanted to build her slowly, to drive her wild with need before he took her.
As she neared climax, he withdrew, letting her cool just slightly.
"Derrick..."
His name came out broken, needy.
He chuckled and pressed a kiss to her thigh, lightly grazing it with his teeth.
Using his fingers, he spread her open again and leaned in to inhale her scent. He groaned, nearly losing it then and there.
He was ready to claim her, desperate to taste and feel her around him.
Then a sharp thought cut through the haze of him fucking her long and hard.
No.
Not yet.
He groaned in frustration and pulled back.
"What's wrong, Derrick?" she asked, her voice filled with concern.
He looked up, regret heavy in his eyes.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I can't believe I didn't think of this sooner. I didn't even consider protecting you."
Her brow creased in confusion. She hadn't realized what he meant yet.