“God, you feel good,” Derek groaned, sliding sensuously against her.
“So do you,” she whispered in response, feeling her breasts tighten and harden in delicious response.
He kissed her throat, then lower, moving toward those pebbled tips that so craved his attention. “You’re protected?” he questioned suddenly, lifting his head for a moment to look at her in concern. “If not, I can—”
“It’s okay, Derek,” she assured him quickly, her fingers tangling in his hair. “I’m protected.” Her taste for adventure did not preclude taking certain precautions, a habit for which she was now very grateful.
Derek’s murmur signified his own relief that there was nothing to hold him back from finally satisfying his hunger for her. He lowered his head once more.
Summer rapidly discovered that Derek’s talent at kissing was only a hint of his skill as a lover. From the short, tousled strands of her amber-brown hair to the hollows of her ears and throat, from her flushed, swollen breasts to the delicate indentation of her navel, from the silky curves of her inner thighs to the ticklish arches of her feet, he explored and pleasured so thoroughly that Summer was a writhing, moaning creature of pure sensation by the time he lost his own tenuous control.
Moments before she couldn’t have imagined it was possible for the pleasure to intensify. Now, with her legs wrapped tightly around his lean hips, his fingers biting into the soft flesh of her buttocks, Summer discovered that there were heights of passion that she had never dreamed existed. Arching into his driving thrusts, she responded wholeheartedly to his every movement, drawing moans of delight from him in answer to her own.
Her head tossing on the pillow, she arched again to draw him even deeper into her. “Oh, Derek,” she whispered brokenly.
“Summer. So good,” he moaned, the words hot against her throat.
She tried to tell him that it was good for her, too, but the words shattered into a cry of joyous release as tiny ripples swelled into pounding waves of fulfillment. Dimly aware of the shudders that rocked Derek’s body within the cradle of her arms and legs, she smiled in exhausted satisfaction, then collapsed beneath him with a long, audible sigh.
Lying heavily on top of her, Derek knew he’d have to move, but he wondered where he’d ever find the strength. It seemed to take everything he had left when he finally made himself roll to one side to relieve her slight body of his weight, though he didn’t take his arms from around her. “God,” he groaned after a few more moments of recovery. “I think I died.”
His words provoked a breathless little laugh from the woman in his arms. “You, too?” she asked in a gasp. “I feel like I’ve melted into a puddle all over your lovely bedspread.”
She squirmed around to face him, lifting herself on one elbow. Smiling down at him, she reached out to brush a strand of dark hair away from his forehead. Her lover, she thought again, and this time the words were fact.
He lifted one hand to touch her cheek. “I wanted you so much that I went a little crazy. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
She smiled and kissed his palm. “No, you didn’t hurt me.”
“How’s your leg?”
“Deliriously happy.”
He chuckled and pulled her down against his chest. “Lie still a moment,” he ordered her indulgently. “I need some recovery time.”
“Mmm.” She snuggled her cheek into the hollow of his shoulder and idly caressed his chest through the swirls of dark hair. Her eyes closed in pure contentment, she allowed herself to drift, holding serious thought at bay. She was not quite ready to consider the change that had just come about in her life—and she knew the change was a momentous one. No, for now she wanted only to bask in the security of Derek’s arms. Her eyes opened halfway and her gaze wandered idly around his bedroom, narrowing a little as she took in the assorted trophies and sports pictures with which he had chosen to decorate. Even that discovery was pushed quickly to the back of her mind. No thoughts of physical handicaps or other differences between them were to be allowed to intrude on her euphoria.
As if to block any further observations, her eyes closed again, firmly. She wouldn’t have believed that she would be able to sleep again so soon after her nap, but the deep, even rhythm of Derek’s breathing soon lulled her into a light dream state, a soft smile gracing her flushed features.
The line between dream and reality wavered and languorously dissolved. A tiny sound of pleasure flowed from Summer’s slightly parted lips as she felt her heavy-limbed body being thoroughly and leisurely caressed. Arching like a lazy cat into the gently arousing strokes, she opened luminous eyes to study Derek’s face, so close to her own.
His face would never look soft, but it held more warmth now than she had ever imagined seeing there. His eyes gleamed silver, his mouth had relaxed its stern lines into a semismile. Fascinated by the way his dark, disheveled hair was beginning to curl at his forehead—so that’s why he keeps it so short, she thought in tender amusement—she drank in the sight of him. He looked approachable, she mused, reaching up to touch his lean cheek. He looked wonderful. “I take it you’ve recovered?” she murmured huskily.
He kissed the soft upper slope of her breast. “Umm.”
She took that to be an affirmative. “Oh, good.” Her drawl turned to a gasp as his tongue darted out to circle her already distended nipple, and then he was pulling the dusky peak into the liquid warmth of his mouth. Summer moaned her approval and threaded her fingers into his hair to hold him closer.
Derek’s hand slid down her side, pausing to trace each rib. She squirmed, offering her other breast to his worshipful mouth. Her attention alternated between the manipulations of his lips, teeth and tongue, and his slowly descending hand, which was shaping her hips.
She stiffened fractionally when his exploring fingers slid down her leg and touched the ridges of her scars. How could he not be repulsed by them?
Misinterpreting her tension, Derek lifted his mouth from her moistened nipple to kiss her chin. “I won’t hurt you,” he whispered against her lips.
“I know. It’s not that,” she assured him. “It’s just—”
She stopped by necessity when his mouth covered hers. Even as he kissed her with a hunger that was unabated by their recent lovemaking, Derek cupped her impaired knee, his fingers tender, soothing. Uncertain of what message to read into his actions, Summer reached down to capture his wrist and pull his hand to her breast. Again she had chosen not to linger on thoughts that threatened to dim her present pleasure.
Complying with her unspoken request, Derek concentrated on rebuilding her arousal. Summer responded eagerly to his skillful attentions, her own fingers dancing across his sleek back. When his hand moved downward again, it was only as far as the damp nest of curls between her thighs, where the bud of her femininity quivered beneath his touch.
Her breath catching in ragged gasps, Summer arched again and again into his palm, her mouth seeking and finding his. He moved between her legs, and she stopped breathing entirely, anxiously awaiting the moment when he would once again make them one.
And then he murmured something that stopped her heart along with her breathing.
“I love you, Summer.”
“What?”
His hand on his chest, Derek stared at the woman who’d leaped straight up to sit on the bed beside him and was staring openmouthed back at him. “God, Summer, you almost gave me a heart attack. Why did you shriek at me like that?”
“What did you say?”
“I said you scared the—”
“No, before that.”
“Oh.” His face relaxed into a smile. “I said I love you.”
“Oh, my God.” She covered her face with her hands.
Though his body still quivered with his arousal, Derek laughed under his breath and reached for her wrists. “I should have known your reaction wouldn’t be the traditional ‘I love you, too, Derek.’ But I had no idea I’d have to peel you off the ceiling once my heart starte
d beating again. Is it that much of a shock, Summer-love?”
Her hands completely limp in his, Summer gaped at him. “A shock? Yes, Derek, I guess you could call it a shock.” She sounded stunned.
“Why? Couldn’t you see it coming? I’ve suspected it for some time. I’ve never been in love before, but I’m not so dense that I didn’t recognize the emotion when it hit me.”
“How could I have seen it coming?” she asked spiritedly. “My God, Derek, we’ve only known each other a week.”
“A week and two days. Not that it matters. I wanted you from the first moment I saw you sitting on that rickety stool in your apartment. I think I fell in love with you the first time I kissed you, though I was mad enough at that moment to strangle you.”
She couldn’t believe he was saying these things, not Derek. She’d known he wanted her, of course. But love? How could he tell her so calmly that he loved her, when she was certain that such an admission could not come easily to a reserved, careful man like Derek?
Searching her face, Derek stopped, his smile fading. “Maybe I’ve been taking too much for granted. I thought you were feeling the same way I was. Was I wrong, Summer?”
“I…” She let her voice trail off and dropped her eyes to hide her fear and confusion. “Derek, you can’t be in love with me. I’m not anything like the women you’ve dated before.”
He groaned. “Don’t start that again. I was never in love with any of the women I dated before. How could I have known what kind of woman I could fall in love with before I met you? I wasn’t even sure it was possible for me to fall in love. And then I fell head over heels for a smart mouth and the most beautiful blue eyes I’ve ever seen.” Before she could form a reply, his fingers tightened around her wrist in what she could almost believe was a surge of desperation.
“Summer, I love you. I can’t give you logical explanations or reasonable excuses, but I know it’s true. How do you feel about me?”
Avoiding his intense scrutiny, her eyes focused painfully on a framed photograph of Derek breaking the tape in a marathon race, his arms lifted in triumph above his head, healthy legs shown to perfection beneath his brief running shorts. “Derek, we need time,” she whispered. “It’s too soon. You—we can’t be sure.”
“Oh.”
The single syllable was stark enough to make her risk a quick look at his face. Derek was so good at hiding his feelings, but somehow she had learned to read him quite accurately in the past nine days. Only she could have seen that she had hurt him. She felt as if she’d plunged a knife into her own heart.
“Derek, you don’t understand. I care for you, of course I do, but—”
“But I’m no hero, right?” he finished tonelessly. “I’m still just Connie’s brother, Derek, the stuffed-shirt businessman who happens to kiss well enough to entice you into bed.”
The knife twisted. “That’s not what I was going to say.”
“Listen to me, Summer Reed.” He caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting her face until his stormy gray eyes were boring directly into hers. “I’ll give you time if you need it, but I’m not giving up. I love you like no fairy-tale hero could ever love you, and I know you better than anyone else ever has. You don’t stand a chance against me. I have a reputation for achieving my goals, and you are my priority-one goal from now on. Do you understand?”
He had barked out the words in a militarily autocratic tone that automatically stiffened her spine. “I hear you, Derek.”
“Good. Believe it.” He leaned over to kiss her, hard, then released her. “Do you want me to take you home now?”
She wanted him to take her into his arms and make love to her. She wanted to allow herself to believe that he really loved her and that his infatuation would not go away when he tired of her erratic humor and offbeat life-style and her inability to keep up with him physically. She wanted to believe that her heart would not be permanently shattered when he moved on to someone else. She knew better. She’d thought Lonnie had hurt her when he’d turned away from her after the accident. She suspected now that she’d never known pain as she could know it if Derek were to love her for a time and then leave her.
No. She’d had too much pain. This time she had to protect herself.
“Yes, please, Derek. Take me home.”
Hurt and anger dulled the silver in his eyes, but he only nodded and reached for his scattered clothing as she did the same.
Though he walked her to the door after the painfully silent drive, carrying the packages she’d so cheerfully loaded into his arms several momentous hours earlier, Derek refused to go inside the apartment. He explained that he was not in the mood to deal with Connie just then. He transferred her packages to her arms, making a visible effort not to touch her. “When can I see you again?” he asked, the question verging on demand.
Summer looked pleadingly at him. “Please, Derek. I really think y—we need time. It’s happened too fast.”
His face hard, he glared immovably down at her. “When, Summer?”
She sighed. He would not make it easy for her, she thought glumly. His mind was set. She’d just have to prove to him that they were not suited to each other, no matter how desperately she wished they were. Perhaps another weekend with her would bore him, make him restless for someone who could play tennis or run with him. It would rip her heart to shreds, but perhaps he’d finally see what she was trying to tell him. “Call me later in the week,” she said finally. “Maybe next weekend—”
“Fine,” he cut in shortly. For a moment she thought he was going to walk away without another word. But then he reached for her, and his voice was urgent when he spoke. “It was good for us tonight, wasn’t it, Summer?”
Giving in to a momentary weakness, she dropped her packages unheeded to the floor and burrowed into his arms. “Oh, yes, Derek,” she breathed, looking up at him with an expression that left no doubt of her sincerity. “It was wonderful.”
“Better than anything that ever happened to me before. Remember that,” he told her softly. “Remember the way we’ve been drawn together from the beginning, despite our unimportant differences. Remember that you’ve been able to tell me things about yourself that you’ve never shared with anyone else. There’s more to what we have than sexual attraction, Summer, and you’re bright enough to figure that out if you’ll stop fighting it. I love you.”
He kissed her long and hard, with undertones of the passion they had shared in his bed. And then he was gone.
Summer was breathing raggedly when she entered the apartment. Connie was sitting on the couch, the telephone cradled on her shoulder as she painted her long nails a bright fuchsia. She smiled at Summer in greeting. Summer tried to return the smile as she passed the couch to her room, where she closed the door, threw her packages on a chair and fell in a nerveless heap on the bed.
She hadn’t bothered to turn on a light, so the darkness of her bedroom closed around her as she lay huddled in a position of abject misery. It was so utterly ironic, she thought bleakly. Derek had tried to convince her that she was in love with him. Little did he know that she needed no convincing. She knew full well that she loved Derek Anderson. Blindly, desperately, hopelessly, eternally. She’d never loved like this before, she’d never love like this again.
And he had said he loved her, too. She should be deliriously happy. Instead, she wanted nothing more than to die.
“Summer?” Connie cracked open the door and peeked inside when Summer did not respond to a light knock. “Why are you lying here in the dark with all your clothes on? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Summer answered in a voice so thick with tears that it was obvious she was lying. “Everything.”
Connie promptly walked inside, crossing the room to sit on the bed beside her unhappy roommate. “Do you want to talk about it? We’re friends, Summer. We should be able to share the bad times as well as the good.”
Summer mopped at her face with one hand, sorely tempted to p
our the whole story into Connie’s shoulder. But maybe Connie wouldn’t want to hear her roommate’s problems, she thought. After all, Connie probably had problems of her own. For the first time in her life Summer understood that, with all the friends she had attracted over the years with her playful, carefree humor, there had never been anyone she could cry with. Derek had forced her to admit that earlier; now she realized that it was really true.
“Summer, honey, what is it?” Connie had never seen Summer cry, just as she had never allowed herself to shed tears in front of her roommate. But, rather than being uncomfortable or impatient, as Summer might have feared, Connie reacted as a true friend, with a sympathetic desire to help. She reached out and touched Summer’s shoulder. “Talk to me, Summer.”
Without further hesitation Summer sat up and threw her arms around her friend—her real friend. “Oh, Connie, I do want to talk about it,” she moaned, the tears flowing freely.
“It’s about Derek, isn’t it? Believe me, I know how much his continuous criticism can hurt. I’ve come home and cried more than once. What did the creep say to hurt you?” Connie’s voice had become more heated with each word.
Summer shook her head and swallowed a sob. “No, Connie, it wasn’t that. He didn’t criticize me.”
Connie went still. “Oh, no.” She gasped. “He didn’t—Summer, did he—”
Realizing the direction of Connie’s thoughts, Summer sat up straight in indignation. “Connie, he didn’t hurt my physically, if that’s what you’re thinking. My God, he’s your brother. You surely know him better than that.”
Connie went limp with relief. “I thought I did,” she admitted. “But where you’re concerned, I don’t know him at all. He’s different with you.”
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