CHAPTER 7
He tilted her chin gently, locking his gaze with hers.
"Look at me, Sandra. This matters."
Her eyes met his, stormy with emotion, blue depths roiling with uncertainty.
"Take all the time you need to figure things out—about us. But promise me something. Don't go back to The House. Not without me. Not until you and I have reached a decision. Even if you end up choosing someone else, I need to know you didn't go back there alone. I can't bear the thought of someone else touching you in the ways I dream of. Just… do this for me."
Her voice was tight, wary. "So you're giving me an ultimatum? You're asking me to deny what I feel—what I need—if I don't choose you? How's that fair?"
"It's not," he admitted flatly. "Love rarely is."
She blinked, surprised by the raw honesty in his tone.
He didn't push further, knowing it was too soon to declare feelings that might overwhelm her. But he had to speak his truth.
"I'm asking for a chance. Let me be the one to introduce you to this world you're so drawn to. Just one chance, Sandra. If it turns out I'm not what you want, then we step back. But please, don't let anyone else touch you until I've had the chance to show you what we could be. I was prepared to bury my desires for you—suppress the parts of me I've kept hidden—if that was the only way to have you in my life. The moment I saw you walk into that common room, everything changed. I've never recovered."
He leaned closer, pressing a soft kiss to her furrowed brow, trying to ease the tension he saw there.
"You've waited so long to act. Don't wait too long now. You know you can trust me. That's more than most men could say. I care about you, Sandra. About your happiness. Craig doesn't. He wouldn't. I would give you the world if you let me. I just need the chance to prove it."
Her eyes softened. A flicker of vulnerability passed through her expression.
"I won't take long," she whispered. "I just need to think. This is a lot. I had no idea, Derrick. Today was supposed to be about letting go—of Clement, and of you. I thought I'd leaned on you for too long. That it was time to stop burdening you and let you move on. I assumed you'd never had anything serious, never had a chance because of me. I was trying to do the right thing for both of us. And now you're telling me you want even more. I can't make a snap decision—not one we might both regret. But I care about you, Derrick. Deeply. And I don't think I've ever thanked you properly."
"I don't want your gratitude. I want you. That's all. But if this isn't what you want, I'll still take whatever part of you you're willing to give."
Her eyes shimmered with emotion. "I don't want to change you, Derrick. I don't want you to suppress who you are for me. That's not fair to either of us. I would never have asked that of Clement. I can't ask it of you."
He silenced her with a kiss—deep, slow, reverent. She melted into him, her body molding perfectly to his.
"Let me decide what I'm willing to give up," he murmured. "You sacrificed for Clement. That's what love is. You wanted something he couldn't give, but you loved him anyway."
She tucked her head beneath his chin, fitting against him like she was made for him. He held her tight, savoring the feel of her, the silent promise of what could be.
"So, can I have your word?"
She slowly met his gaze. "I promise. Just give me a little time. Today's been... hard. Everything's upside down. I need to think."
He started to reply, but she continued quickly.
"I don't want to use you. Maybe I was okay with using someone who meant nothing to me. But not you. You matter. Our friendship matters."
He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, his touch soft. "You can use me, Sandra. If it leads to having you, I'll take it. I've been with other women these past few years. They meant nothing. They were distractions. Poor substitutes for you."
She stared at him in disbelief. "You pretended they were me?"
He nodded, unapologetic. "Yes. I never lied to myself about it. You were what I wanted and couldn't have."
She shook her head slowly. "I don't blame you. How could I? I was married. You weren't mine. I never expected you to wait."
"But I did, in a way. And now that you can be mine? There'll never be another woman. I swear it."
Her breath caught. The realization crashed over her like a wave. She trembled, fists clenched to hide her reaction.
"Stay tonight," he said gently.
She opened her mouth to protest, but he held up a hand, his thumb tracing her jaw.
"Not in my bed. Not unless you want to. Just in the guest room. I don't want you alone tonight. I'll make breakfast in the morning. Then we'll talk, set a date, see where we go."
She hesitated, visibly weighing her options. Then she exhaled and gave him a small nod.
"All right. I'll stay."
When Sandra walked into the kitchen the next morning, Derrick could see the wear on her face. She hadn't slept. Neither had he.
He'd lain awake all night, listening to the silence, tormented by how close she was—yet still not his.
He poured her favorite coffee and slid it toward her as she sat. She wore his oversized T-shirt and her pajama pants, the drawstring pulled tight at her waist. The sight made something warm settle in his chest.
"Rough night?" he asked softly.
She flinched. "Please don't call me that," she said, barely above a whisper.
"Of course. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. Clement used to call you that."
Her lips twitched in a bittersweet smile.
"There are other things I can call you," he said gently. "Better things."
She took a sip of coffee, closing her eyes as the taste soothed her nerves.
"You spoil me."
"Not yet. But I plan to."
She looked up at him, eyes searching. "So it wasn't a dream."
He leaned in, locking eyes with her. "No. It was my dream. Now we just have to make it real."
"You make it sound so easy."
"It can be. If we choose to make it so. I've waited long enough, Sandra. Now that I have a chance, I won't pretend otherwise."
She looked down at her cup. "How is this supposed to work, Derrick? I've spent all night wondering what this means. What it means to be with you. Before, it was just fantasy. Now it's real. And I don't know what to expect."
"Eat with me," he said. "Let's talk over breakfast. Ask me anything. Just remember, if you don't want the truth, don't ask the question."
She nodded solemnly. "I want the truth. I need it."
He squeezed her hand. "Head to the table. I'll bring the food."
As she walked to the breakfast nook, cradling her mug, he watched her. So much vulnerability, so much strength. He would wrap her in all the safety and warmth she could ever want.
All she had to do was say yes.