My jaw drops, amazed that he explained himself properly for once. I wasn’t aware he could do that.
“This is probably a dream.”
He raises his brow, puzzled.
“What?”
“The real Derik Lewis would never speak in full, coherent sentences. If this isn’t a dream, then you’re an imposter. Who are you and what have you done with that asshole?”
In response, he bursts into laughter which echoes through the narrow space of the vehicle. Squinting my eyes, I study his jubilant demeanor. The frown on his face is gone, and his shoulders have relaxed. His eyes aren’t as empty as they used to be.
“You–you’re laughing…” I point, gaping.
“I never knew you had a comical side to you,” he comments, leaning in. Then, he plants a kiss on my lips, gentle and slow at first, as if he’s afraid he might break me. My breathing lightens when his tongue traces the outline of my lips, then leisurely enters, and explores the cavern of my mouth while sucking and urging me to reciprocate.
I’m already breathless when he pulls me in closer with his hand resting on the nape of my neck, the other slipping under my shirt. Moaning, I squirm against his chest, relishing his scorching touch.
Oh, how I missed his touch.
I link my arms around his neck and pull his kiss in deeper. His mouth is soft and sweet, and his touch electrifies my skin, sending me into a state of carnal bliss. When his palm cups my breast, I moan in pleasure.
He jerks away abruptly, leaving me desperately wanting more.
“That ought to tell you this is real,” he teases.
I scoff in annoyance but don’t say a word, feeling breathless and on fire all over.
“Let’s get out of here. I’m starving.”
He pulls away from me and starts the engine. Hurriedly, he maneuvers the car without a word. His chest rises and falls heavily, and I can feel and smell the lust in the air as he speeds up the familiar road home to the villa.
I’m still in a stupor when the car pulls into the driveway. Derik gets out, taking large strides around to my side, he throws open the passenger door and single-handedly scoops me into his arms. This time, it is swift and careful.
We’re on the stairs, headed up to the second floor, when my mind finally clears.
“What are you doing?!” I ask in incredulity.
“Getting my meal,” he answers flatly as he kicks the door of his study wide open with a bang. I gulp nervously when he places me on top of the large oak desk, his eyes lingering on my face. The usually icy cold stares have turned into a lustful gaze that seems to disrobe me of the façade of strength I’ve been putting on.
My tongue feels stuck to my throat as I examine him. He looks a little tired, but he’s definitely fully sober. My heart brightens with hope, but I push it down, trying to hold onto my last bit of dignity.
“S-stop this,” I stutter, trying my best to sound like I actually mean it. I sit up spine straight, feigning composure. “This is sexual harassment.”
Derik pauses, his eyes twinkling in delight as he sits down on his office chair, watching me thoughtfully like a figurine. Then, he pulls himself closer, his arms planted on either side of my thighs, restricting my movements. He stands again.
“You and your mouth…”
I raise a brow, feeling indignant, but rather than fight, I assume a blasé air.
“I’ll go and tell Mrs. Whittle to prepare your lunch. You must be tired. You should rest. I’ll do you a favor and forget what you did today. I expect it won’t happen again.”
Derik pauses and meets my gaze before letting out an exasperated sigh. His expression softens for a moment before he lowers his head to rest on my lap.
Frowning, I look down to see his shoulders relaxing.
“William took Mrs. Whittle to the hospital. She tripped and fell while trimming the hydrangea this morning,” he murmurs, his hands slithering around my waist.
I sigh impatiently, feeling a shudder running down my spine.
“You’re acting strange.”
“Mmmh?”
“Why are you so talkative?” I question suspiciously.
“I’m not.”
“You’re acting like a cat, too.”
If he wasn’t Derik, I would have already kicked his balls for crossing the line way too many times in the span of an hour. I want to scream and slap him hard for fucking with my emotions like this. At the same time, I want to hug and kiss him. I want him to touch me. I want to tell him how I feel. But I don’t know where or how to start, or if it’s worth the risk.
“I just want to be near you. Your energy relaxes me.”
My brows twitch.
“What are you talking about? While you’re riling me up, I’m relaxing you?”
“You’re not allowed to get close to anyone like this. Otherwise, you’d have to bail me out of jail,” he mutters, a tinge of anger and possessiveness in his voice.
