Chapter Seven
Tasha
As it turned out, I really loved sex.
During my years with Wes, from the time we’d started dating until the disastrous last days of our doomed marriage, sex had been . . . okay. I’d figured it was because I was young and stupid, and Wes hadn’t done anything to dispel that belief. He’d never said anything positive about what I did in bed, and later, if I’d dared to try something new in an effort to make things better, he accused me of cheating on him. I’d learned to simply bend myself to his will there as I did in the rest of my life.
Making love with Derek, then, was a revelation. He made it clear with every touch, with every word and with every sigh that I pleased him, that I brought him pleasure. He praised me with his words and he worshipped me with his body. He told me over and over how beautiful I was, how perfect my body was, and how much he loved to make me come. When I returned the favor, he couldn’t say enough, even when he was basically incoherent, babbling in the wake of his orgasm.
And between all of that, he told me how much he loved me. It went beyond the words he used; his love for me was evident in every touch.
On Saturday morning, he brought me coffee and breakfast in bed. We ate together, talking about what we usually did on weekends. When Derek learned that I loved to haunt flea markets and farm stands, he decided that was what we’d do . . . after he’d settled himself between my legs to use his mouth to get me off, which he called the prerequisite for a good morning.
After we showered together, we stopped by his house so that he could pick up clean clothes and some toiletries. He tossed another pair of underwear and a clean T-shirt into a bag, which he slung over his shoulder as we returned to his car.
“I, um, thought if it was okay with you, I could stay over again tonight. I mean, unless you need some space.” He’d studied me so seriously that I just had to grab his face and kiss him.
“I don’t need space from you, Derek. Of course, I want you to stay. I’d be lost if you didn’t.”
His smile lit up the morning.
We wandered the flea markets, hand in hand. Derek stopped here and there, pointing out items he liked. We talked about our tastes in decorating, and I shared that I loved anything I could reclaim and make new.
“I like to take something that seems like it can’t be useful anymore and make it beautiful again.” I swung our hands between us. “It feels good.”
“That’s what you did with me.” He squeezed my fingers. “I didn’t think I was ever going to come back to life . . . but you didn’t let me stay in that place.”
Talking about our therapist-patient relationship now, when we were so much more, gave me a twinge of unease. Although the flea market we’d chosen was actually over the border in North Carolina, I still worried that we might run into someone we knew. I tried not to let that concern show to Derek, but when I got quiet, he noticed.
“Hey, there.” He hauled me into a quiet corner between two booths, where no one could see us. “You okay, babe?”
“I am.” I lifted my face, kissing his jaw. “I’m just . . . thinking. But I’m enjoying being here with you. It’s so much more fun than doing the market by myself.”
He studied me, his head cocked to the side. “Okay.” Framing my face with his hands, he kissed me, his tongue making lazy forays against my own. I wrapped my arms around his neck, desperate again for his touch. I felt like I would never get enough of him.
We barely slept Saturday night, because it seemed Derek couldn’t get enough of me, either. We made love until we fell asleep in each other’s arms, and then one of us would wake and begin touching once more, until we were so aroused that we’d start all over again.
Consequently, we didn’t wake up until after noon on Sunday. My mom’s call interrupted our sleep; she invited me for dinner, and when I declined, she sounded surprised. I told her that I’d had a busy weekend, and she must have heard something in my voice that made her leave it at that. After we hung up, I fell back onto the bed.
“You’re close to your folks, huh?” Derek’s voice was muffled in the pillow.
“I am, but it’s one of the things I’ve been working on over the last year—maintaining boundaries, and making sure we have a good relationship, but that I’m making my own decisions. My dad is great, but my mom still struggles sometimes.” I sighed, snuggling up to Derek. “But I understand. That year when I was with Wes was terrifying for them, too. Letting me have space isn’t easy for them.”
“I’d never get in the way of that.” He sounded so earnest that I just had to kiss his cheek. “I mean it, Tash. I want to be part of your life, but I want to do it the right way. When you’re ready, I want to meet your parents. I want them to get to know me and to understand that I would never hurt you or try to take you away from them.”
The idea of introducing Derek to my mom and dad gave me a flurry of butterflies in my stomach. It was what I wanted, too . . . but that didn’t mean I wasn’t a little nervous about it.
After dinner that night—we’d called for pizza and eaten it on my sofa, watching the baseball game and drinking beer—Derek stood up, stretching, and hauled me to my feet.
“I better go home, babe.” He sounded so reluctant that it made me grin. “I’d love to stay, but I don’t have my uniforms here, and I have to get up way the hell early for work tomorrow.”
I brushed my hand over the scruff of beard on his cheek. “Hey, mister. You’re not cleared for physical training yet. Not for another two weeks, and even then, only modified.”
“I know, Ms. O’Hare.” He kissed my forehead. “But I go in at the same time and get caught up on work while the others are doing PT. I’m so behind on everything that I need those hours.”
“Hmmm.” I tucked my head under his chin. “You’re back full-time this week?”
“Yeah . . .” He trailed off and then cleared his throat. “But I do have an appointment tomorrow afternoon at the clinic.”
“Oh.” I bit down on my lip. “I guess I’ll see you then.”
“Seems like it.” He stared down at me. “Tasha, I know you need to think about everything. But don’t shut me out while you’re doing that, okay? I’ll give you room, but I don’t want distance.”
“I know.” I sighed. “And I promise, Derek, I’m not going to drag my feet. All of me wants to go full-speed ahead . . . but if we’re going to work in the long run, I need to make sure my heart and my head are on the same page.”
“That’s what I want.” He nudged my head up and kissed me hard. “All right, I’m going. Sleep well, babe. Sweet dreams. I love you.”
When he’d gone, leaving heavy silence in his wake, I curled up on the sofa, breathing in his lingering scent and wishing I had been strong enough to tell him to stay forever.
* * *
The human brain is a funny machine. I’d gone to sleep on Sunday night filled with indecision and uncertainty, powerful desire battling with panic and doubt. For the first time in ages, I had a dream about Wes. After my parents had rescued me in Fort Benning, I’d had nightmares where he came after me with threats and punishing fists. In those horrible terrors, I’d been alone, powerless and without defense.
But the difference in this dream was that I wasn’t alone. Derek was at my side, his hand in mine, and although he didn’t do anything—he didn’t beat Wes as I rather thought he would do in real life, should the two meet—his presence was a steady strength next to me, making me feel sure that I could handle anything. I wasn’t afraid.
Whether it was the dream or simply that my mind had needed that time to process everything, I opened my eyes the next morning feeling certain about what I wanted, about how I was going to make this new life work. I jumped out of bed and sang through my shower and while I dressed for the day. I left the apartment early enough to make the stops I’d planned to make and still get to the clinic on time.
But before I took off for the day, I paused for a moment to text Derek.
Good morning, handsome man. Dinner tonight? I have whipped cream for dessert. I thought we could put it on something sweet . . . and then suck it off.
His response was swift. You had me at handsome. Whipped cream just made it impossible for me to stand up without embarrassing myself. I’ll see you this afternoon. Love you, babe.
I was smiling big as I drove away from my apartment.
By two in the afternoon, which was the time Derek was scheduled to be at the clinic for his appointment, I’d completed all of my missions. I sat in my office, fidgeting, my nerves making me jumpy. I knew I’d made the right call, but still . . . I wasn’t sure how Derek was going to respond.
My answer came about fifteen minutes later. Lidia knocked at my closed door and then stuck her head inside. “Uh, Tasha, you have a minute? We have a little bit of a situation in the therapy room.”
My stomach turned over. Shit. “Um, okay. Be right there.” I pushed back from my desk, took a deep breath and stood up, making my way down the hall behind Lidia. When we reached the therapy room, she stood back, sweeping her arm toward the door.
“He’s all yours.”
I stepped inside. This room was large and airy, with mats, equipment and apparatus covering the floor. But the man who stood a few feet away from me, with his arms crossed over his broad, camouflaged-covered chest, overwhelmed everything else.
“Derek, what’s going on?” I glanced around, but no one else was in the room.
He glowered at me. “You want to tell me? I came in here for my appointment, and some other therapist told me that she’s taking over my case.”
I nodded. “Yes, I know. I talked to Corinne this morning and asked her to have you transferred to Lidia. She’s an excellent therapist, too, and actually, for where you are now, so close to being discharged, she’s a perfect fit.”
“No, she fucking isn’t.” He almost roared the words, and I winced.
“Shhh.” I shook my head. “Keep your voice down. This is a clinic, not the battlefield.”
Derek rolled his eyes, but his next words were quieter. “How could you do this, Tasha? If you made up your mind about us, if you decided that you didn’t feel the same way, that I wasn’t worth the time or the risk . . . I get it. I don’t like it, but I understand. But you couldn’t have the courtesy to tell me in person?” He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “And what the hell happened between whipped cream and you transferring me to another fucking therapist?”
Suddenly, everything crystalized for me, becoming clear. I realized that Derek had come to a completely opposite conclusion from the one I’d planned for him to find.
“You big doofus.” I shook my head. “Don’t you understand? I came in this morning and told Corinne about us. I explained that we hadn’t intended for it to happen, but that you were more important to me than anything else, and that if being with you meant I had to leave the clinic, so be it.” I lifted one shoulder. “She said that considering how successful your therapy had been, that we hadn’t gotten involved until you were at the end and that I’d been honest with her, we could just have Lidia finish off your last few weeks and discharge you.” I dropped my voice. “They mostly want to make sure you won’t sue for sexual harassment, so don’t, okay?”
Derek’s mouth dropped open. “You told her about us? I’m more important to you than your job?”
“Of course, you are.” I ventured closer, laying my hand on his forearm. “On the way to work this morning, I also stopped at my parents’ house for breakfast. I told them that I was seeing someone, and that it was serious. I said I wanted them to meet you, but that they had to trust me that I knew what I was doing.” With a little laugh, I gazed up into his eyes. “So I hope you were serious yesterday about this whole being okay with meeting my parents deal, because we’re invited there for dinner on Wednesday night.”
A beautiful smile spread over his face. “Are you fucking kidding me? Damn right I was serious.” He uncrossed his arms and laid his hands on my shoulders. “Does this mean . . . that you made up your mind?”
I stepped closer, until my body fit against his. “It does. It means . . . I want to be with you. I want to trust you, and I want to open up my heart and my mind to you.” I hesitated. “It doesn’t mean that I won’t still have times when I freak out or get scared. But if you take it slow with me, I’m willing to go forward . . . with you. With us.” I tilted my head up and rose onto my toes to kiss him. “I love you, Derek.”
His arms tightened around me so much that I could hardly breathe. With a groan, he lifted me from my feet until our eyes were level. “I love you so fucking much, Tasha. You’re the bravest person I’ve ever known.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck, grinning. “I can be brave as long as you’re with me. Maybe we can be brave together.”
He kissed me, his lips soft and his tongue insistent. I opened my mouth and let him in, welcoming the intimate touch of his firm strokes.
“Together with you is all I want to be,” he murmured before he consumed my mouth again. I held on tight, his arms around me all the strength I’d ever want.
The End
PS: ONE more book! Owen’s story comes next . . . and if you keep reading, you can catch a preview of why the quiet guys are always the ones you need to beware . . .