CHAPTER 6
What left Sandra utterly breathless wasn't just the boldness of Derrick's words—it was that he had, in one astonishing moment, become the embodiment of everything she'd ever whispered to the darkness of her mind. Dominant. Commanding. Unapologetically alpha. And, if she was to believe the conviction in his voice, he wanted her not just in passing, but permanently.
To possess her.
To own her.
"I don't even know what to say," she admitted, her voice hoarse with disbelief. "I never imagined… I didn't realize…"
"No, I don't suppose you did," Derrick said, his tone quieter now, but no less sure. "This isn't something I could just drop on you over coffee. But Sandra, you made the first move today. You opened the door. Now I intend to walk through it—and never walk back. You've told me what you crave. What your soul hungers for. And I'm the man who will give it to you."
She stared at him, her thoughts churning, every part of her spinning from the storm of the last hour. How had they crossed such a line so quickly? The world she'd held together with brittle control was suddenly cracking under the weight of something real. Something undeniable. But… him?
No. No, they were friends. Weren't they?
Derrick had been her husband's best friend. Her anchor during the worst chapter of her life. How could she explain this to anyone? How would Sophia understand? How could she even begin to define what this relationship might become when she didn't fully understand it herself?
Because this—what Derrick was offering—was not some heat-of-the-moment rendezvous. It wasn't a kiss that would be forgotten by morning. What he wanted… was a forever kind of surrender.
"This is all too much," she said, half to herself, shaking her head. "We can't just—"
"Stop trying to logic your way out of this," Derrick said, calm but firm. His eyes locked onto hers, fierce and unwavering. "You're not scared because it's wrong. You're scared because you feel it. Because for the first time in a long damn time, you're alive."
Sandra opened her mouth to protest, but the words wouldn't come. She couldn't lie. Not to him. Not to herself.
Her pulse pounded in her ears. Her chest rose and fell with shallow, rapid breaths. Her body recognized something that her mind was still wrestling to define.
And Derrick… Derrick had never once struck her as reckless or impulsive. He was measured, intentional. Strategic. The kind of man who planned for every outcome before taking a single step forward. That he'd thought this through—them—sent her thoughts reeling.
"But Derrick. This… us? It can't happen."
"Why not?" he asked, voice as steady as ever. As if he hadn't just shattered every rule of their friendship.
Because people would talk? Because it wasn't fair to the past? Because Clement was gone, and she'd moved on—or hadn't? The excuses tangled in her head, each one dissolving faster than the last.
Truth was, her world had already collapsed when Clement died. Nothing had been right since. And now, standing in the ruins, was a man offering her something she hadn't dared hope for.
Something that looked terrifyingly like freedom.
"I don't know what this even means," she said, her voice cracking. "You said you've waited. For how long? Have you always felt this way? Even when Clement and I—?"
"Be sure you want the answer," he warned, voice low and rough. "Because once I say it, there's no unhearing it."
She stared at him, heart suddenly hammering against her ribs.
And still, she needed to know. "Tell me."
He didn't flinch. "Always," he said simply. "From the beginning. Long before either of you said 'I do.'"
Her knees nearly buckled. She dropped onto the couch, air rushing from her lungs as if she'd been punched.
He crouched instantly, steadying her with strong hands. "I never wanted you to know," he said. "It wasn't fair. You were happy. You were married. And Clement was my brother in every way that counted."
"But he knew?" she whispered.
Derrick's expression darkened. "He knew."
She couldn't contain the gasp that escaped her. "Oh my God. You mean, this whole time—he knew?"
"Yes," Derrick said quietly. "And we remained friends because he trusted me. He knew I would never cross that line while he was alive. And I didn't. But now…"
He gathered her into his arms, her head resting against the solid warmth of his chest. His hand slid through her hair, fingers gentle, reverent, even as her world tilted on its axis.
Something deep inside her unfurled.
The tension in her chest gave way to something startling—desire.
Raw. Piercing. Electric.
Her nipples pebbled beneath her dress, and she cursed silently, remembering she hadn't worn a bra. She knew—knew—he could feel her against him. And God help her, she didn't pull away.
"Clement trusted me," Derrick murmured. "I think, in some quiet part of him, he knew I'd be there for you. That if anything ever happened, I'd take care of you. Not out of duty. Not out of friendship. But because I wanted to. Because I do."
She pulled back slightly, needing to see his face. Needing to see if the fire she felt inside her was mirrored in his eyes.
It was.
"You waited all this time," she said, voice shaking.
"I did."
"It must've been hell."
He laughed without humor. "It was. Every single day. Heaven, too, because I got to be near you. But never close enough."
"I never knew," she said again, helplessly.
"I didn't want you to. It wasn't your burden to carry. But now…" His fingers traced the line of her jaw. "Now, I don't want to hold anything back."
His thumb brushed over her lips. Her instinct to kiss it was barely restrained.
"I thought I'd have to bury this part of myself," he said. "Hide the side of me that needs to own—that craves submission, control, dominance. I would have buried it, Sandra. For you. But now? Now that I know you want that too?"
He leaned in, lips ghosting just over hers.
"I won't apologize for who I am. Or for what I want from you."
She shivered as the heat in his voice wrapped around her like a chain.
"I don't even know where to begin," she whispered. "Tonight was supposed to be simple. It was never supposed to end like this."
"And thank God for that," he muttered. "If I'd lost this chance…"
She swallowed hard. "What happens now?"
Derrick didn't answer with words. Instead, he cupped her face and kissed her.
Not gently. Not hesitantly.
With hunger. With intent.
Fire roared through her body, scorching through the icy walls she'd carefully constructed. Her mouth parted, and he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against hers, stealing the breath from her lungs.
She clung to him, unmoored, barely recognizing the woman who kissed him back like she'd been waiting a lifetime.
By the time he pulled away, her body was humming with awareness. His eyes were heavy-lidded, dark with matching hunger.
"What happens now," he said, voice roughened with promise, "is that you're mine. At long last, you belong to me. And if you truly meant what you said—if you want a man to possess you—then understand this: I will. Completely. There will never be another."
His words thrilled and terrified her. And still, something pulled at her—a sliver of fear, a whisper of doubt.
"I need time," she said shakily. "To process this. All of it. I don't want to make a mistake."
He nodded, even as his jaw flexed. "Of course. Take the time you need."
Her gaze dropped to their joined hands—his large, warm, steady—enveloping hers like a vow.
"I don't know how long—"
"Just promise me one thing," he interrupted gently.
She looked up, eyes wide.
"Don't run," he said. "Don't push this away before you've even had the chance to feel it."
She exhaled slowly. And then, finally, nodded.
"I promise."