A Little Wicked (The Bewitching Hour Book #4)(15)

He ran both of his hands through his hair all the way back until he reached the nape of his neck and then forward, leaving the short black strands disheveled and somehow making him look even more handsome. “Why are you sorry?”

She stared at him as if he were slow. “Because my family tried to kill you. Again.”

He shrugged, as though it were no big deal. “I went into that house with you,” he pointed out. “And we already knew it could be a bad idea. Which it was. A remarkably bad idea.”

“Thank God you had the pepper spray.” Even though his eyes were still red from it after a thorough scrubbing of his hands and face, she knew that distraction was the only thing that had allowed them time to run. Otherwise, Sam knew she would be one of those zombies, just like Garrett. She held out a hand to Derek. “Come on.”

He eyed her hand for a second. “Come where?” he asked skeptically.

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “To shower. You were just in a disgusting air vent,” she pointed out.

“You dragged me there,” he said as he put his hand in hers and allowed her to lead him to the bathroom.

“I remember seeing the construction of the house. Mom tried to get me to move back in hundreds of times and kept on pointing out all the fire protection measures she’d put in. I kept thinking how convenient those vents would’ve been for when I was too young to attend the parties. I’d always tried to spy on what all the grownups were doing. Those vents would be the perfect spot. I guess they finally paid themselves off.”

They reached the bathroom and she turned on the water, giving it plenty of time to heat up as she turned to Derek.

It was a small bathroom to begin with, but with him in it, the room seemed microscopic. She was worried he’d think she was strange for being horny so soon after their life-or-death encounter earlier, but from the way his eyes had darkened, she knew he was on the same page.

He was quiet as she started to undo the buttons on his shirt, but he didn’t help her either. He watched her every move intently. When she finished with the buttons, she pushed the shirt and shoulder holster off his shoulders, leaving him in a thick undershirt and pants. His arms were big and she ran her fingers over his defined biceps and his forearms dusted with dark hair. Damn, she could look at him forever.

And it wasn’t just because he was attractive. In her world, attractive men were a dime a dozen. It wasn’t just that he was big, or strong, or symmetrical. But when she was alone with him, she was alone with him. He had such a masculine presence. Even when they were in a room full of people, she was in tune with his every movement. As though they were connected on some strange level.

Which made the memories she knew she was missing all the more painful. She didn’t want to forget anything about this man. This man who was willing to put up with all of her drama and danger. This man who looked at her the exact same way she looked at him: as if nothing else mattered as long as they were together.

Because if she was going to be obsessed with someone, it might as well be someone who was obsessed with her too.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, not able to say enough how bad she felt for everything she’d brought to his doorstep.

He finally moved, reaching up to cup her face and angle her until she met his hot gaze. “Your magic doesn’t work on me.”

“I’m aware.”

“And if I wanted to walk out the door”—he frowned, as though remembering they were at his place—“if I wanted to kick you out, you couldn’t stop me.”

“I know.”

“So the only thing you should be apologizing for is the fact that we’re not naked yet.”

She bit her lip at the promise of what was to come and reached for his belt. No matter what he said, she wasn’t going to feel good about the risky situations she was putting him in any time soon. But she could get him naked, so that was what she was going to focus on.

It only took a few seconds for her to undo his belt, and he pulled the undershirt off. It was less than a second later that Derek got to work on her. He slid his hands under the hem of her shirt. His fingertips grazed over the curve of her spine, taking a second to appreciate the feel of her skin and send goose bumps over her arms before he tugged at her shirt. She obligingly lifted her arms, and a moment later, the shirt was over her head and falling on the sink.

The second the shirt was off, the chill of the apartment got to her and she was in a much bigger rush to get under the warm water. She tugged off her boots, and as she bent over, Derek’s hand ran over the curve of her ass. When she stood, he pulled her back against him and suddenly she wasn’t cold anymore. She sucked in a breath as she felt the heat of his chest seep into her back and the hard bulge of his erection pressed against the thin material of her leggings. “Still not naked,” he whispered into her ear as his hand snaked around her and flattened against her stomach, pushing her against him.

Her eyes drifted shut as she let herself become enveloped in Derek. “I’m working on it,” she breathed, not even sure he could hear her. But as his hand moved lower, she guessed he didn’t care. His long fingers slipped under the waistband of her pants and into her panties.

She bit at her lip as he bent closer, his breath brushing her ear before his lips pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder.

And then his fingers slid into her wet folds just far enough to hit that little bundle of nerves that had her rubbing back against him. The friction must’ve gotten to him, because he groaned into her ear as he gave her shoulder a little nip and went to work in earnest. He seemed to play her body, looking for the ways to make her moan and jump and writhe against him. And when he moved his hand, pressing some fingers deep inside, all she could do was wish he was pushing into her with something else.