I scoot out of the booth after him, the sound of the man yelling dimming as the blood rushes in my ears.
Fuck. This isn’t good.
Chapter 8
Derek
Adrenaline is coursing through my blood, and all I can see is my father. I’m breathing heavy, and my fist is screaming in pain. My knuckles split from the impact of landing the punch right to this fucker’s jaw.
Don’t fucking talk to her like that! I can hear myself scream as my father tries to hit her again. It’s all I can see. How I was helpless back then. But now, watching the same scene play out, I’m not going to sit back and watch.
I can’t allow it. I can’t fucking stand a man yelling at a woman. A man putting his hands on her, talking down to her. Degrading her and making her scared.
I won’t allow it.
The table rattles and the glass clinks as the other man at the table jolts back, his chair hitting the floor as he stands and backs away slowly.
My body’s tense and ready for a fight.
The waitress steps back, and so does everyone else. I can feel their eyes on me as the fucker lands hard on the tiled floor. He throws one hand up in surrender while the other cups his jaw. His mouth fills with blood. All I can see is red.
“I-” The fucker on the ground cowers and starts to speak, but I yank him up by his collar. Every inch of my skin covered with a cold sweat as my heart pounds.
“Apologize,” I scream in his face. I clench my jaw so tight, I think my teeth crack. I’m so on edge.
“Derek.” I can faintly hear Emma’s small voice, laced with fear. My grip loosens for a moment, my heart skipping a beat. Shame momentarily cripples me.
“I’m sorry,” the man in my grasp says to the waitress on my left.
“I’m alright.” I hear the waitress's voice. She’s talking to the maître d', who’s consoling her a bit to my left and behind me. Not this prick.
I know her. I forget her name, but I know her story. She’s a friend of the Marianis. She lost her husband recently, and is just trying to get by. She’s new, and she fucked up. But she didn’t deserve that. And this asshole being so comfortable doing this in public means he’s done it before.
I’m gonna make sure he never does it again.
“Derek,” Emma calls out a little louder, desperation clearly there. I see her walk closer to us in my periphery. I hesitate. She shouldn’t see this shit.
“Stay there, Emma,” I tell her sharply. I swallow thickly, wishing I could just take this shit out on him. He deserves it.
“I’m sorry, just-” The guy says; he’s shaking so hard I swear he’s gonna piss himself. Just the sound of his voice pisses me off.
“Derek, stop!” Emma calls out again, taking a step forward and reaching out for my arm.
My anger wanes as my concern for her getting in the middle of us grows, but it’s still there, raging inside of me.
“Get the fuck out,” I say beneath my breath and start to shove him away, back against the wall. But it’s not enough. I haul his ass out of the restaurant, not letting go of the grip I have on his shirt. I’m walking so fast he struggles to keep up.
As soon as we’re outside, I shove him forward. The cold bitter air chilling my heated skin. He slips on the thin sheet of snow, landing hard onto his knees, the palms of his hands bracing his fall and a small splatter of blood hitting the pure white sidewalk.
I get a strong urge to kick the fucker right in his ribs. I want him to hurt. I want him to feel this for a long fucking time, but Emma runs out like a fucking madwoman, right in front of me. She's wearing her coat and has her wristlet in hand, with my coat draped over one arm.
I grit my teeth and grab hold of her waist to pull her behind me.
“Stop!” she screams at me.
What’s she doing? She should know better.
The sounds of the people coming out of the restaurant and stirring around me barely grab my attention as the man hobbles forward and turns on his side to stand up. I give him a look that should fucking kill, and he freezes on the sidewalk.
“Please Derek, let’s go. Just stop.” Emma sounds so hurt as she pulls on my arm. “Please,” she says and her soft voice grabs my full attention as she tugs at me again, pulling my shirt tighter across my chest. “Let’s go.”
Her beautiful doe eyes look up at me. My heart slows. It’s only then I realize how heavy I’m breathing. How cold it is.
The man on the ground coughs and scoots farther away. I spare him a quick look, but nothing more.
“Let’s go,” Emma pleads as she tugs on my arm again, and this time I go to her, shrugging on my coat easily. I wrap my arm around her waist and walk us toward my car. Emma looks over her shoulder a few times, but I don’t. My pace is fast. I just want to get the fuck out of here.
Mariani’s will be fine. The other owners have done worse. She doesn’t need to know that though.
She tries to open the passenger door, but I push her against it instead. Her back hits the car door and she gasps as I press my body against hers.
I just wanna feel her. I need to.
“Derek,” she whimpers, moving her neck to give me more access as I lean against her. Kissing her exposed skin, I push my knee between her legs. Fuck, I want her so bad. My dick starts hardening at the thought of taking her right here, right now. I’m so worked up. And I’ve wanted her for days. Fuck that. Years.
My heavy breath turns to fog as I leave open-mouth kisses along her neck.
“Derek,” she says again in little more than a whisper, pushing me away slightly.
I don’t expect her to push me away, since she was leaning into me at first. But she looks over her shoulder at the entrance to the Bistro and then back at me, that vulnerability in her eyes again.
I pull away and open the door for her without another word. Waiting for her to climb in, I can hardly look her in the eyes, before I shut it gently and readjust my cock in my jeans.
I look back at the restaurant one last time, the bright red blood still visible from this far away.
I shouldn’t have done that.
I just can’t allow a man to treat a woman like that. But the way Emma’s pushing me away makes it more than obvious I shouldn’t have done that.
It’s quiet in the car. Too fucking quiet. The small cuts on my knuckles are irritating the shit out of me as I drive on the interstate, taking us closer to my house, and her sister's.
I don’t want to end the night like this. I want her to come home with me. I wanna make it up to her. I twist my hand on the wheel and swallow down my pride.
“I’m sorry,” I finally say, my voice rough and low. I’m staring straight ahead, but I can feel those beautiful hazel eyes on me. I chance a look at her and she doesn’t seem angry, or disappointed. Instead there’s a different look in her eyes, the same look she gave me that first day all those years ago. Like she’s trying to figure me out. Trying to decide who I am.
“He was a dick,” she finally says, ignoring my apology. My skin tingles with an uncomfortable heat as we get closer to the off ramp. My heart is clenching tight in my chest.
“Yeah. You okay?” I ask her.
“I’m fine,” she answers quickly. She finally sits back in her seat a bit, but she still looks tense.
“I mean it,” I say and look at her and wait for her eyes to meet mine. “I’m sorry.”
Her expression softens and she puts her small hand on my lap, leaning toward me slightly.
“It’s alright,” she says softly. But that look is still in her eyes.
“I want you, Sweetheart.” I look back toward the road, and realize I have to decide soon where I’m taking her. “Come home with me tonight.”
“I’m not like that.” She shakes her head a bit and pulls away from me. “I’m really sorry I gave you that impression.”
“Like what?”
“Just an easy lay,” she answers absently.
“Where the fuck did that come from?” I ask
her with some of my anger coming through. Before she can answer, I continue. “I’ve wanted you since high school. I don’t fuck around. I don’t let people in. But you’re there. Somehow I never had a choice on whether or not I could let you in.”
“It’s just that I’m going back-” Emma starts to say, but I’m shutting that shit down. She can tell me she hates what I do, over and over again. I can live with that. But I won’t let her think that she’s just an easy lay for me. Joking around? Sure. But actually believing it? No. She better fucking not.
“This isn’t me thinking you’re a one-night stand. I want you.” I emphasize the last part and feel a prickling sensation along my skin as she stares back at me. I can see she’s deciding whether or not she believes me. I’ve never given her any reason not to, but it’s been so long. I still feel everything from back then as if it was yesterday. I can only hope she does, too.
“Just give me the night to convince you,” I plead with her. I know I fucked tonight up. I know she’s worried about the shit I do, and the man I am. But I just need her touch. “Don’t think about anything else. It’s just you and me right now.”
I turn the car onto the exit ramp, and now I have to go one of two ways. Left takes me home; right takes me to her sister’s.
“Just tonight?” I ask her, keeping my car in the left lane, but looking behind me in the rearview, ready to steer the car to the right if she tells me to.
Finally, she nods and answers, “Just tonight.” My body relaxes slightly, the adrenaline still coursing through me.
I have her for the night. If nothing else, I have her for tonight.
Chapter 9
Emma
My body feels so hot, and then so cold, alternating between the two and leaving me feeling helpless. I’ve never felt so anxious, so uncomfortable before. So worried. My fingers touch the dip in my throat as I glance at Derek and then back out of the window.
Derek’s calmed down some, but I haven’t. How can he be so at ease after what just happened?
The guy had it coming to him, but it was just so intense.
I look out of the window and watch all of the beautiful houses pass by as he drives us through his neighborhood. They put my sister’s house to shame.
I’m barely taking them in though. I’m too worked up and on edge, preoccupied with visions of him gripping that asshole by the collar and lifting him nearly off the ground.
I’ve never seen him like that.
I’ve never seen anyone like that.
I don’t like it. It was sexy as fuck in some ways. But it scares me. He scares me. I swallow thickly, closing my eyes at the realization.
I’ve always known he was a bad boy. I’ve only ever had glimpses though. I don’t like seeing it up close and personal. I don’t want it to be true.
We pull into Derek’s driveway, my thoughts paused as I wait with bated breath to get out.
I couldn’t tell him no. What’s worse is that, even with a hint of fear, I still want him. Maybe even more now than I did before.
He gets out first and I move to open my door, but he motions for me to stop.
Sagging back in my seat, I watch as he walks around the front of the car. I take a deep breath and try to calm my nerves. I’m completely head over heels for him, even after what just happened. Ever since I walked away from him, I’ve never felt the way I had when we were together, and I’m terrified to lose it again. To never feel that way again for the rest of my life.
Fear of loss is making me cling to him.
I’m so fucked. This is all just fucked.
He opens my door and offers me his hand. I accept it with a soft smile although there’s hesitation in my action. I find myself looking at his knuckles, wanting to see if it’s the one he bruised and cut, but it’s not.
He squeezes my hand, and it calms me down. The door clicks shut, and the cold makes me unconsciously step even closer to him. He makes me feel delicate and protected.
This is the side of him that I know. This gentle side that treats me as if I deserve the world. This is the man I know, but there’s more to him.
I want to know all of him. Not just the small part he’s willing to show me.
I don’t know if he’ll ever open up though. The thought makes my heart pang in my chest.
Is it so bad that I want to help him? I feel like I can. Like it’s what I was meant to do.
But only if he’ll let me. He needs to want to change.
Right now’s not the time for that though.
I just want to hold him and for things to fall back into place.
Just for tonight.
I’m too conflicted to deal with all of this right now. I don’t know what’s right and what’s wrong, or what the fuck I’m doing.
The sound of my heels clicking on the pavement is muted by the thin layer of fresh snow as we walk up the cement path to his front porch.
Once we get inside, Derek sets his keys down on the table to the left of the door. The white rectangular table almost blends in with the walls. He helps me out of my coat as I continue to look around. Slate floors lead into a hallway beyond the open staircase. The light from the glass and iron pendant chandelier glimmers on the walls and ceiling. His place is amazing.
But it’s drug money. My eyes close tight and my heart thuds to a halt. I think. I don’t know.
“Stop thinking about it, Emma,” he says as he hangs our coats on cast iron hooks by the door, as if he could read my mind just now. I don’t answer him, although for some reason I feel guilty.
He leads me up the open staircase. All the while I can’t look at him, my heart beating so fast. I’m too nervous to even touch the railing, although without his hand on my back I’m not sure I’d be able to walk steadily.
I know I have a choice right now, to stay and be with him, or to leave. I need to decide right now. But I can’t. I can hardly breathe. I hate that I’m just going with it, falling deeper into whatever it is we have. It’s all I’ve ever done, but it’s also all I want.
The black steel-frame lamp turns on automatically as we walk into the spacious bedroom. He lets go of my hand and walks into the en suite bathroom. I stare at the bed. It has to be a king with how large it is. The dark grey comforter has silver threading that gleams in the soft lighting. My heart thuds over and over again, the blood rushing in my ears.
I’m hot and ready for him. I want this. But it comes with so much. It means so much more to me.
And what does it mean to him?
“Make yourself at home,” he calls out as he turns on the faucet.
I slowly walk over and sit down in the navy armchair in the corner of the room, the bathroom and therefore Derek, visible from my seat.
His room is so masculine, so him. But it’s devoid of warmth. It’s missing a crucial piece of him. The piece he gives to me.
The smoky grey walls are bare, the only picture sitting on the nightstand. A little boy and a young mother smile together as they pose on top of the mountain they just climbed. It must be Derek and his mom, I think as I squint slightly to make out the picture across the room better.
I can't just sit here. I get up quickly, my blood feeling as though it’s on fire, and cross the room to his bathroom. Derek’s opening a bottle of peroxide to pour on the cuts on his knuckles.
“Let me help you,” I say as I walk across the white marble floor. I take the bottle from him without waiting for a response and slowly pour the solution over his hand. His hand is so large and rough to the touch. I like holding it though. I like the abrasive feel. I concentrate on tending his knuckles. The cuts aren’t as bad as I would have guessed from the way he was hitting that guy, and the blood that was there.
But that may not have been his blood.
“You really beat the piss out of him,” I say as I twist the cap back onto the bottle. My heart feels like it’s in my throat.
His eyes are on the floor as he says, “Yeah.” He leans against the sink, his gaze occasionally flickin
g to mine, but I don’t look back.
“You didn’t have to, you know,” I tell him, trying not to sound like I’m scolding him. I squeeze some Neosporin onto his knuckles as he sighs and then grunts a response.
I wait, staring up at him and willing him to look at me, but he doesn’t.
“I know,” he says quietly as he shakes his head.
“So why’d you do it?” I can’t help but to ask him. Asking is the way to get answers. I know that from my classes and from working with the kids at school. I hate comparing Derek to them, but he’s like them in so many ways. Right now, all I want to do is help him.
I lay the gauze over his bloodied knuckles and wrap the medical tape around his hand while I wait for him to answer me, but nothing comes.
Derek looks like he’s not going to tell me anything, and I shake my head feeling my throat go dry. I can’t do this. I can’t be with someone who won’t talk to me. I clean up the first aid kit and put it back in the cabinet under the double sinks, not speaking as he moves out of the way.
“He reminded me of my father,” he says before I can walk out of the bathroom. I stop in the doorway, waiting for more.
“Your father?” I ask him. He only ever told me about his father once. That he’d left them, but that’s all I know. He never wanted to talk about his family.
I look over my shoulder, gripping the door in my hand and I can see the hatred and pain in his eyes. Seeing him like this feels like I’m being stabbed in the chest. I just want to hold him and take his pain away, but I need to understand.
I walk back in and lean against the granite countertop. It’s cold under my hand, but I’d rather touch it than him. If he holds me, I’ll lose focus. I’ll lose him opening up to me, and I can’t do that. “I don’t know anything about him,” I tell him with a seemingly casual shrug.
“It’s best that you don’t.”
“I wanna know.” I need to know.
“He wasn’t a good man. Like that fucker at the restaurant…” He trails off and shakes his head. “The things he was saying,” Derek shakes his head again, closing his eyes. “No woman should be talked to that way.”
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