Protecting What's His (8 page)

Derek roughly pulled Ginger off the counter and turned her around to face the mirror. He yanked her back against his body so she could feel his need for her, then brought her hands up around the back of his neck. The position stretched her body, leaving her completely vulnerable to him.

Derek’s hands dropped to the hem of her T-shirt, skimming up and over her rib cage before taking her naked breasts in his hands. His fingers pulled lightly on her nipples before soothing them in circles with his palms. She seemed to love that. Her head turned toward him, seeking his mouth for a kiss, and Derek obliged. He kissed her the way he sensed she wanted it—thorough and dirty. He licked at her until she protested, then punished her mouth for daring to ask for more.

“Derek, please.
Please
.” She reached down with one hand and tried to pull off her T-shirt.

“No, no. The shirt stays on.”

“Why?”

“Because if I see your naked breasts, I’m going to want to suck your pretty little nipples. And if I suck your nipples, I’m going to need to bury my cock inside you.”

She moaned against his neck, her sexy ass writhing against his rampant hard-on. In that moment, he swore he’d never wanted anything more in his life than to bend Ginger forward and take what he already considered
his
.

Knowing he couldn’t last much longer and still walk away, his hand slid down her stomach and slipped inside the red, silky panties she wore. Encountering her slick wetness, Derek came very close to losing his tenuous resolve. He slid his middle finger through her heat, found her swollen nub, and began his relentless assault, circling the spot in teasing strokes, driving her crazy, then rubbing and pinching where she needed it most.

Adding a second finger to increase the pressure on her clit, his eyes met hers in the mirror. They were beginning to glaze with her upcoming orgasm. His gaze dropped to where her hard nipples pressed tightly against the soaked cotton, and lower, to where his hand moved rhythmically inside her panties. It was the most arousing sight he’d ever seen. “Ginger, someday soon, I’m going to put you here in this exact position and fuck you over and over again to make up for this.”

Ginger went over the edge, throwing back her head and swiveling her hips. He felt her pussy clenching and trembling against his hand, so he slid two fingers deep inside to help her ride it out. He kept his fingers moving until the spasms left her and she slumped backward against him.

Now that he’d watched Ginger come, Derek decided he could die a happy man. And if he didn’t need to remove himself from her presence immediately, he would do it all over again just to re-witness her pleasure. Reluctantly, he tore his eyes away from her image in the steamed-up mirror, resting his forehead on her shoulder.

“Is this service included in the rent?” she panted.

Derek laughed into her neck, pleased as hell. Goddamn, he loved the fact that unlike most women of his experience, Ginger didn’t clam up after a sexual encounter, making excuses for her behavior or questioning what it meant.

“You’re not paying rent.”

She sighed. “Derek.”

He couldn’t stop himself from running a hand over her hip, biting gently into her supple flesh with his fingers. “We’ll work something else out, Ginger.”

“I don’t like the sound of that.”

“I’m not talking about sex.”

“Oh.”

Derek grinned at the poorly hidden disappointment in her voice, but it quickly faded when his need ratcheted up another level. He needed to get out of there. Fast. But first, “I have a way to un-blur those lines you’re so concerned about.”

Involuntarily, he was sure, Ginger’s eyes dropped to his mouth and he swelled larger inside his pants. “Well, let’s hear it, Lieutenant.”

“I need a favor.”

She smirked, trying to skirt past him.
“I had a feeling…”

“Not that kind of favor.” He pressed a hand to her waist to keep her still and laughed under his breath. “I’ve been roped into attending a charity dinner tomorrow night and I need you to come with me. As my date.”

Ginger didn’t respond, just pinned him with a searching look.

“I told you I wouldn’t accept money from you and I won’t, but since you’re determined to keep us on equal footing, I’d consider it payment in full for the use of the room.”

“And there it is.”
Ginger shivered. “A date, huh? You know it’s not going to be easy to find someone to cover my shift on this short of notice.”

“Can you be ready by seven?”

She sighed. “Fine.”

“I’ll leave you to your shower while I still can.”

Stifling a groan, Derek backed away from her and walked out of the bathroom.

Chapter Ten

Ginger paused in the act of spreading lotion on her arms as she heard Derek’s apartment door open and close from inside the spare bedroom where she waited, fully dressed for their date.

Date.
The most offensive four-letter word in the English language. It wasn’t a coincidence that it rhymed with
hate
. It also rhymed with
late
and
irate
, the former of which described Derek’s current
state
.

“Nice one,” Ginger congratulated herself under her breath.

The wall clock told her he’d arrived exactly half an hour late to pick her up. After asking her on this date as a favor
to him
, he didn’t even have the decency to show up on time. Ginger yanked off the chandelier earrings she’d put on and removed approximately eight damn times. She couldn’t remember why she’d agreed to accompany him in the first place. His bartering the spare room in exchange for a date was low even by his standards. She should have called him on it and demanded he accept her money. Instead, she’d found herself agreeing, with very little persuasion on his end.

She’d spent the morning in her apartment with Lenny and the work crew he’d hired to repair the flood damage to the space. Going through her and Willa’s possessions, Ginger had been relieved to find most of it, including all of their clothes, could be saved. After throwing out the damaged items, she’d taken the damp clothes to the basement laundry room and cleaned them thoroughly. Thankfully, most of her furniture projects were salvageable as well, although she’d cried while dragging the baby-themed hope chest to the curb for sanitation to pick up.

Ruined hope chest aside, they got a lot of work done in the apartment and she felt optimistic about returning home soon. Wading through her waterlogged closet, she’d pulled out the plastic garment bag containing her one and only presentable dress.
The
little black dress of her dreams. A vintage Versace she’d found at a yard sale one afternoon in Nashville after a wife unexpectedly showed up from a vacation in Saint-Tropez, found her husband’s mistress living in their home, and held an impromptu sale to get rid of the younger woman’s possessions.

The kicker? She’d bought it for a nickel.

Ginger stood in front of the mirror checking her appearance. To her, the silk, corseted dress symbolized everything she dreamed of being. Classy, worldly, stylish. She’d never been given a chance to wear it before, having avoided the dating scene after the Holy Trinity debacle, but sometimes put it on when she needed a pick-me-up.

She’d blown her hair dry and let it fall in waves around her shoulders, applying only a minimal amount of makeup. The women who came into Sensation usually wore heavier eyeliner and lipstick, but she always felt self-conscious with it on. Turning sideways, she flipped her hair and smiled at her reflection. Then her shoulders slumped.

She didn’t know the kind of circles in which Derek moved. Maybe this dress wouldn’t be considered stylish. After all, Chicago was a million miles away from Nashville in terms of how people dressed and acted. Maybe the dress really
had
only been worth a nickel.

Is it too late to cancel? I’ll tell him I’m sick. Or I couldn’t find anyone to cover my shift.
Or maybe she should just pick a fight with him. She sure as hell knew how to accomplish that.

Ginger quickly crossed the last idea off her list. If she started an argument, they’d probably just end up making out. Or re-creating last night’s scene in the bathroom.

At the reminder of last night, Ginger’s pulse began pounding in her ears. Her cheeks flushed pink and she unconsciously wetted her lips. God, she’d never experienced anything like Derek touching her body. Not one of his movements had been wasted. His objective was to make her come and every motion, every flick of his fingers and kiss of his mouth, moved her toward oblivion.

Reminding herself of her earlier decision, Ginger straightened her shoulders and readied herself to face Derek in the kitchen. Clearly, he desired a physical relationship with her. And she with him. They were both consenting, single adults. And damn, he excited the hell out of her. The things he said. The liberties he took. The way he seemed attuned to her body and needs.

She could keep it physical, Ginger assured herself. She could control how it proceeded. How it ended. Because it
would
end. Ginger didn’t know the first thing about a functional relationship.

When she was thirteen, her mother brought home a line cook from the local barbecue joint named Seth. He hung around for about three months, the longest a man had ever stayed in their home. There was talk at the breakfast table about marriage. Weddings. Adopting her and Willa. Then one day, Seth never came back. Her mother didn’t leave her bedroom for a week and when she did, she parked herself on the couch and chain-smoked between sips of scotch for over a month while Ginger begged the neighbors for food scraps to feed Willa.

Granted, she considered herself a stronger woman than Valerie. But with her past, combined with the sob stories she heard nightly behind the bar, Ginger steered clear of any messy entanglements.

Only a few minutes had passed when she heard Derek exit his bedroom and enter the kitchen. Figures, it only took him five minutes to get ready when it took her a full hour. After taking one final, soothing breath, Ginger stepped into her black pumps, picked up her clutch purse, and left the bedroom.

Derek stood at the refrigerator gulping down a bottle of water, the white dress shirt stretched across his broad shoulders. At the click of her shoes against the hardwood floor, he turned to look at her.

And stopped cold.

Ginger panicked, unable to judge from his expression whether he approved of her attire or not. He looked utterly perfect in his tuxedo. Sophisticated. Someone accustomed to big-city standards. He wore the garment like a second skin, every movement masculine and fluid. The five o’clock shadow darkening his jaw and the lack of sleep evident on his face saved him from being completely intimidating, but she couldn’t help a shiver of apprehension upon seeing him dressed this way. He looked ready to command a room. Or her. Goose bumps broke out along her arms.

Damned if she was going to let him know how he affected her.

Placing a hand on her hip, Ginger tossed her hair over her shoulder and stood her ground, letting him look his fill. And he did. Sharp, green eyes tracked upward from her thighs, over her hips to her breasts.

He crooked a finger at her. “Come here.” His voice sounded raw and uneven.

Refusing to be intimidated, Ginger crossed the living room to where Derek stood unmoving in the kitchen. She could swear his eyes darkened as she got closer.

“You’re late.”

“And you’re fucking gorgeous.”

Her breath caught in her throat. Tearing her eyes away from his voracious gaze, she set her shawl and clutch down on the counter. “Thank you, Lieutenant. You look nice, too. Doesn’t excuse the fact that you’re late.”

“I’m sorry. You should never have to wait for anyone.” Derek came up behind where she’d leaned a hip against the counter. His breath feathered over her bare shoulder, moving a few strands of her hair against her neck. “What color are your panties?”

“Excuse me?” Her voice sounded thin to her own ears.

“You heard me.”

She swallowed the knot in her throat. “Why?”

“Baby, if I’m going to take you into a room full of men wearing that dress, I’m damn well going to be the only one who knows the color of your panties.”

A rush of liquid heat moved through her, settling between her legs. His voice alone could do that to her. The deep, thick quality of it stroked over her body the way she now knew his hands would. Part of Ginger wanted to continue chastising him for his lateness to dissipate the lust clouding the air around them. The rest of her yearned for whatever he had planned for her.

He stood so incredibly close without touching her. Even so, she felt like his hands were moving all over her body. His proximity combined with his coffee-and-leather scent made her flesh tingle. Her breathing accelerated with every second that passed and he still didn’t touch her.

“Not going to answer? Okay.” Finally, his skin made contact with hers and Ginger’s breath shuddered out. They stood flush, his front to her back, his breath warming the skin of her neck. “Place your hands flat on the counter.”

What? Why won’t he just kiss me?
Confused by his request, she remained mostly still save the breaths causing her chest to rise and fall rapidly. Her breasts swelled against the top of her dress with each panting breath, begging for Derek’s hands to touch them.

“Do as you’re told.”

Ginger’s arousal outweighed the flicker of annoyance brought on by Derek’s command, so she gently placed her palms facedown on the cold surface of the kitchen counter, leaving her slightly bent over at the waist. Unable to see Derek, she could only sense him moving behind her.

Suddenly, her feet were kicked wider by Derek’s dress shoe, and the already-exposed position she stood in became twice as vulnerable. Ginger made a surprised sound at his roughness, but forced herself to remain the way he’d posed her. She tried to imagine what Derek saw from behind, bent over the counter as she stood with her legs spread shoulder-width apart. She could hear his harsh breathing and imagined him sizing her up. Deciding what to do next. The anticipation dried her mouth.

His hands moved up the sides of her thighs to the hem of her dress, massaging as they went. Then he lifted her skirt, sliding the silky material up the tops of her legs and over her ass. He made a strangled sound, then a long stretch of silence passed, the only sound in the room their heavy breathing.

“No panties, Ginger?”

She closed her eyes, savoring the tortured quality to his voice. “I can’t wear any with this dress. The outline would be noticeable.”

“I see.”

Derek’s hand came down hard on her exposed backside, jarring her stomach against the edge of the counter. The slap of his large palm against her bare flesh echoed through the room.

“Oh!”

Shocked by the sudden sting, it took Ginger a few seconds to realize he’d spanked her. She wasn’t given time to think any further because he did it again. And again. He spanked her five times, each time harder than the last until her bottom smarted painfully.

Despite the burn each slap earned her, Ginger couldn’t help wishing him to continue, despite her warring emotions. His punishing slaps heightened her senses, making her aware of every breath leaving her lungs, every groan escaping Derek’s throat. Warmth pooled low in her belly and spread to her legs until they felt like jelly. Her thighs shook with the need to press together, but his foot, inserted firmly between her high heels, prevented it. She was unnerved by her reaction. She was excited by it.

The fifth time Derek’s palm connected with her flesh, she found herself pushing higher on her toes, presenting herself to him. Asking for it. Sensations and emotions clouded her brain. She tried to straighten, to make sense of the heat coiling low in her belly, but he placed a hand firmly on her back, keeping her bent over the counter.

“You like that, beautiful girl?” When she whimpered, he leaned over and spoke directly into her ear. “Good. That was for the hard-on I’ll be walking around with tonight. And you’ll goddamn wear the imprint of my hand on your ass for it.”

His arrogant statement brought Ginger out of her momentary state of shock. She pushed away from the counter, forcing him off of her. The blatant hunger on his face gave her pause. His cheekbones were flushed red, his fists clenched at his sides as if he struggled not to reach for her.

“If you bend over, even slightly, in that dress while we’re out tonight, I will spank your beautiful ass again in front of everyone present. Do you understand me, Ginger?”

She yanked the dress back into place over her still-stinging backside. “Go ahead. It still wouldn’t be the worst date I ever had.”

His eyes narrowed dangerously. “Don’t test me on this. I’m already less than thrilled about bringing you out in public looking like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like a walking wet dream.”

Her mouth opened and closed. To hide her shock, she turned and snatched her clutch and shawl off the counter. “I’m not changing, so deal with it.”

“I just did.”

“You’re an arrogant jackass, you know that?”

He nodded. “Let’s go. We’re running late thanks to you.”