Until Then

19. Izzy

19

IZZY

When Derrick brought up coming to the beach for a bonfire party, I was excited. I haven’t been to one, and I was looking forward to hanging out with him outdoors rather than in the house for once. I never thought this was a date, even if I secretly wished it could be. So to be so upset when I realized he wasn’t listening? Especially when I asked if he’d want to dance with me? It was foolish.

Even so, it hurt my feelings.

Now, Dylan’s hands are warm on my waist, and my skin is kissed with sweat from the warm evening air and all the dancing I’ve done.

The sun set a while ago, but I wasn’t watching. Was Derrick? He’d been excited about it, but rather than sit and watch with him, I ran away like a petulant child. I’m sure that only solidified how he thinks of me .

The sting of embarrassment over my behavior still clings to me, but I close my eyes and move with the music, doing my best to ignore it.

Dylan turns me in the direction that faces Derrick, and I find him in the same spot he’s been in most of the evening. Sitting on the sand, nursing the same beer, eyes on me. His face goes hard when he catches me watching. Even from here, I can see the tick in his jaw.

Good , I think. Be pissed. At least it means you care .

When the song ends, I step away from Dylan. He reaches for my hip to pull me back in, but I take another step away and shake my head.

“I need some water.”

“Come on, one more.”

I laugh. “I’m thirsty.”

“All right, but come find me.” He flashes me a dimpled grin.

He’s cute. Nice, too. But he doesn’t make my heart skip a beat.

Not like the man brooding in the sand twelve or so feet away.

I stick my hand in the icy water and pull out a bottle. With a flick of my wrist, I twist the cap, then take a deep pull. The ocean breeze has the sweat on my skin feeling almost icy now that I’m not moving around.

With a sigh, I sink down into the sand, giving my feet a break and willing my heart to slow, and watch the waves lap against the shoreline. It really is so peaceful here.

A shadow looms over me, and without looking, I know who it is. I can feel the anger radiating from him.

“Let’s go.”

The growled command has me bristling. Who does he think he is to make demands of me? It was his idea to come here.

My reaction to his selective hearing was immature, I can admit that, but only to myself. And I’m madder at myself than I am at him. I have to stop lusting after a man who’s never going to be interested in me. Sure, sometimes I swear I catch him watching me, and sometimes he makes comments that can be interpreted as flirty. But at the end of the day, he’ll never go there.

“I’m not ready to leave.” I twist the cap back onto the bottle and set it in the sand beside me.

“We’re going.”

I look up at him, annoyance clawing at my insides. “No, you can go. I’m an adult. I can find my own way home.” I lift my chin higher and glower. “Or maybe I’ll stay out tonight.”

His face, already white from the light reflecting off the full moon above us, goes ashen.

I shouldn’t take satisfaction from that.

“I know you think I’m just a kid,” I say, letting sand sift through my fingers. “But I’m twenty-seven. I’m a grown woman.”

He looks away, jaw ticking. “I know that.”

“Really? Because it doesn’t seem like you do.” Standing, I brush sand off the back of my dress. “Let’s go, but only because I’m ready to leave.”

I doubt Dylan will miss me anyway. There are plenty of other girls for him to hang out with.

I pick up my water bottle and shuffle to the nearest trash can, then head for the parking lot.

Derrick sulks behind me. I don’t know what he’s so pressed about, since he’s getting what he wants. But he keeps his distance the whole way to the truck .

Annoyance flashes through me, directed at myself, not him. I need to get over this stupid crush. He’s never going to reciprocate my feelings.

I’m being pathetic.

He unlocks the truck, and I reluctantly climb inside. Via’s place is close enough that I could walk if I really didn’t want to go home with him, or demand he drop me off on the way, but frankly, I don’t want to risk finding her and Reid in a compromising position again.

We don’t speak the entire drive, and when we get back to the house, I take Wonton out, then shut myself away in my room. After a quick shower, I climb into bed and let the tears fall.

It’s painful, wanting a man who’ll never want me back.

God must hate me.

It’s the only logical reason. Because when I wake up, I find Derrick in the kitchen making breakfast.

No shirt.

Gray sweatpants.

The look is any woman’s kryptonite.

He glances over his shoulder, catching me frozen in the doorway.

I still feel awkward. Does he?

“I thought I’d handle breakfast this morning,” he says, his tone nonchalant. “Scrambled eggs and toast good with you?”

I nod, unable to get my mouth to form words, and shuffle to the coffeepot. Maybe caffeine will help.

Derrick slides a plate in front of me a few minutes later, then sits beside me at the table. He’s close enough that I can feel the heat of his arm even though we’re not touching.

“I’m sorry about yesterday.”

The unexpected apology barrels into me, making me rear back. “You are?”

Head hanging and forearms resting on the table, he sighs. “Honestly, I’m not exactly sure what upset you. I was lost in my thoughts, so I missed what you said. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t care to listen. Even so, I realize that hurt you, so I deserve the anger.”

I wet my lips and inhale deeply, garnering my nerve. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have gone off the way I did. I know we weren’t on a date or anything”—I bark out a laugh like the very idea of it is preposterous, even though I secretly ache for exactly that—“but you brought me there, and I should’ve stuck by your side.” I lower my focus to my table. “We didn’t even watch the sunset.”

How could we, when I was being pouty and immature? My attitude surely reminded him of our age difference. Can I be forgiven because this crush has made me batshit crazy?

He spears a piece of egg with his fork. “Can we agree we were both dipshits?”

His question pulls a small laugh from my chest. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

Since it’s Sunday, we don’t have to be at the office or on site, so I plan to work on the business’s website and upload photos. I don’t have to work from home, but I want to. I need something to keep my mind from wandering to things it shouldn’t.

We finish breakfast, and when Derrick gathers up the plates, his fingers brush ever so lightly against mine .

It’s an innocent, accidental touch, but one I feel everywhere.

I close my eyes, willing my racing heart to settle.

While Derrick loads the plates in the dishwasher, I’m frozen in my seat, having an internal meltdown.

Once he’s shut the dishwasher door, he turns and leans his hip against the island. “Do you want to go out on the boat today?”

I’m tempted to say yes. Our time out on the water is always soothing. More than almost anything in my life, being out there with him feels right.

But I shake my head. “No, I need to get a few things done today.”

His shoulders droop a fraction, but I pretend not to notice. Right now, I need some space. If I had anywhere else to stay, I’d be gone. At least for a bit. But I called the Inn last night, hoping a room had opened up, but they’re still booked solid.

I could go back to LA, but the idea of being there is even worse than facing Derrick after last night’s spat.

Determined to get my shit together, I slide out from the table and head upstairs to change. While I lace up my tennis shoes, Wonton does an excited little dance on his back feet.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” I ask in a singsong voice. “Come on, let’s go.” Tail wagging, he darts out of the room and down the stairs.

By the front door, I strap him into his harness and leash him up. “We’re going for a walk,” I call out to Derrick, though I don’t wait for a response.

I get about a block from the house before I decide to turn around and grab a jacket.

“Just wait here,” I tell Wonton in the entryway. I unclasp his leash but leave his harness on .

He wags his tail like he understands.

Upstairs, the pipes groan from Derrick’s shower. Despite the updates he’s made, this is still an older home with plenty of quirks.

I swipe my jacket off the closet door and turn, but the sound of the groaning pipes stops me. Because from here, it doesn’t sound like old pipes.

No. It sounds like moaning .

Holding my breath, I tiptoe out of my room, my curiosity piqued, and to his door, which is open just a crack. I should go, pretend I didn’t hear him, but fuck it if I can’t help myself.

That’s when I hear it.

This time when he moans, low and throaty, it’s my name. “ Izzy .”

My breath catches. Those two syllables have never sounded so good.

Taking a step closer, I lean in so my ear is positioned in the gap between the door and its frame.

He’s touching himself while thinking of me.

My heart takes off, thundering in my ears.

All this time I’ve been trying to convince myself that my silly crush is one sided, that he doesn’t see me as anything other than a pseudo-roommate. Sure, I’ve caught him checking me out, but he’s a man, and I…

“ Fuck, Izzy .”

Sweet Jesus.

The jacket slips from my grip and flutters to the ground.

I don’t know what comes over me, but suddenly feeling bold, I push the door open wider. The smart thing to do would be to go downstairs, walk out of this house, and pretend this never happened.

“ That’s a good girl . ”

That simple sentence heats my core, and my panties grow damp.

With my lip pulled between my teeth, I bring my hand to the waistband of my shorts. It would be so easy to touch myself, tease my clit, slip my fingers?—

“ Fuuuck .”

My core clenches at the sound, and all timidity leaves me.

I push the door open wider, then head straight for the open bathroom door, like I’m drawn to him by an invisible force. I stop at the threshold, and in the reflection of the mirror, I see his silhouette, shadowed by the steam.

My heart races. This is a terrible idea. There’s a good chance he’ll reject me. Yell. Hell, kick me out of his house.

My thoughts are swirling when his hand comes up on the glass, startling me. I jump, squeaking, giving myself away before I’m ready.

My heart drops to the floor at the same time the water cuts off.

“I-Izzy?”

Forcing air into my lungs, I step into the room and face the shower, propping myself up against the counter behind me.

He swipes a towel from where it hangs over the glass shower door. The fog is thick around him as he wraps it around his waist, hiding the part of himself that I’m aching to lay my eyes on.

The shower door slides open, and there he is, water clinging to his solid chest, dripping down his sculpted muscles and disappearing beneath the cotton.

I’ve seen Derrick without a shirt at least a dozen times, but it’s different, knowing there’s nothing but bare skin beneath that towel.

It would be so easy to tug it away. I’d drop to my knees, wrap my hand around his cock and take the tip into my mouth.

I wet my lips, wishing I already had the taste of him there, and take him in from head to toe and back again.

When I meet his eye, finding a heat there that matches what’s burning inside me, my core clenches.

Aching.

Desperate.

If he doesn’t say something, I might die.

He puts me out of my misery. “What are you doing here?” Lust-dark eyes skim me, assess me the way I assessed him. “You left.”

I flatten my hands on the countertop, then curl my fingers over the lip. “I came back for a jacket, and I… I heard you and…”

He raises a single dark brow in challenge, though I can’t tell whether there’s anger there, too, or desire. “And you thought what?”

Voice shaky, I say, “You said my name.”

Water drips from his hair, down his forehead. God, he’s gorgeous. He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I did.”

The breath I didn’t know I was holding whooshes from me. At least he doesn’t deny it.

“I thought you didn’t like me… like that.” I force myself to meet his eye, a silent dare. Will he give me honesty, or will he lie, play it off?

“I like you way too much like that .” He takes a step closer. That single move closes far too much space in this small room. I could count every one of his eyelashes if I wanted.

“Why haven’t you done something about it?” I fire back, but my bravado loses all credibility when the words are nothing but breath .

He shakes his head, causing droplets from his wet hair to sprinkle around him. A drop lands on my cheek, and his warm thumb whisks it away a second after the sensation registers.

“I think the answer to that is pretty obvious.”

I shake my head. “It’s really not.”

His attention drops to my lips, and I realize I’m licking them, like I’m anticipating the taste of him.

“You’re too young for me,” he says, zeroing in on my throat, where he can surely see evidence of my quickly beating pulse.

“I’m a consenting adult,” I argue, making his lips twitch with an almost smile. “One who’s wanted you for far longer than you’ve wanted me.” I reach out and tentatively place my hand on his damp shoulder. I slide it up the back of his neck, gently tugging on his hair. “I want this. I want you.”

With a curse, he angles in and presses his forehead to mine. His eyes are closed, breaths unsteady. “Don’t say shit like that.”

My heart lurches, and a shaky exhale stutters past my lips. “Why not?”

“Because I’ve only got so much self-control.” His warm eyes meet mine, lusty and soulful all at the same time.

Fuck self-control .

With a breath in, I garner all my nerve and press my mouth to his. I stay like that, with my lips resting against him, not really kissing him. I’m giving him the choice. Letting him decide whether we go any further.

He groans low in his throat. The sound vibrates through him to me, and it takes everything I have not to push. Not to lick into his mouth. Not to drag my hands down his chest. But he has to meet me halfway, so I wait.

I feel it, the moment the wall he’s been holding up crumbles. The sound he makes as he gives in is a cross between a cry and a moan. He cups my cheeks, his big hands hot and rough, and kisses me with a force that steals the breath from my lungs. I release his hair and slide my hands around his neck to his chest. His heart beats impossibly fast beneath my palm.

He kisses me like if he stops, I might disappear into thin air. It’s intense, almost a little forceful, like he wants to sink into me until we become one. I’ve never been kissed like this—in a way that makes me feel wanted and treasured, desired and revered.

I grab the hem of my top and lift, tipping back so I can tug it over my head. Before it’s even hit the ground, we’re kissing again, like we can’t get enough.

Every kiss I’ve ever had pales in comparison to the way Derrick consumes me.

Without breaking our connection, he grabs me by the waist and sets me on the counter. Then he moves those hands to my thighs and spreads my legs wider before stepping between them. Wrapping one arm around his neck, I arch back and rock my hips against him.

A towel.

That’s all that separates me from his bare skin.

“Derrick,” I breathe when he peppers gentle kisses down my neck.

When he hits a ticklish spot where my neck meets my collarbone, a shiver works its way through me, and goose bumps erupt on my skin. He presses open-mouthed kisses across my collarbone, then the swells of my breasts. My jog bra suddenly feels more constricting than ever. “Take it off,” I beg. “I need it off. Too tight.”

He obliges, deftly helping me slip out of it. The instant I’m free, my breaths come easier, but at the fire in his eyes as he takes in my half-naked form, it’s gone again.

He stares at my breasts, eyes dark with an obsession I’ve never seen before.

“C-Can I?” He looks up at me, catching his lip between his teeth. “Can I?—”

Arching closer, desperate for his touch, I blurt out, “God, yes. Please.”

Gently, he cups a breast in each palm, feeling their weight. I’m not flat-chested, but I’m not all that well-endowed, either. They’re tear-drop shaped and far from perfect in my eyes. But in his? I see nothing but adoration for my body.

He swallows audibly and fixes his attention on my face. “You’re perfect, Izzy. So fucking perfect. You know that?”

I nod, because right now, that’s exactly how I feel.

He ducks his head, taking my left nipple into his mouth. He nips and flicks and sucks until it’s a stiff peak, and when he lets go, I whimper. Blessedly, he’s quickly paying the right the same attention.

When he finally takes my shorts off, he’s going to find me soaked , and I don’t care one bit.

I rest my hand on the knot of his towel and graze my fingernails over his bare stomach, relishing the way his muscles contract in response.

This time, I’m the one asking for permission to explore.

When he straightens and nods, I eagerly tug at the towel, and it drops, revealing him in all his naked glory. And glory it is.

His wide shoulders and tapered waist are like an arrow pointing straight to his cock.

He’s already hard, or maybe still hard. I don’t actually know whether he came in the shower. I wrap my hand around his length, and my stomach does a flip. Fuck, he’s thick. Thick and long and perfect. My vagina is going to be destroyed , but in the best way.

He shivers at my touch and it’s quite possibly the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.

I lick my lips with anticipation and tighten my core muscles to quell the need pulsing there. “Have you thought about my hand on your cock?”

He closes his eyes, jaw clenching, and tips his head back. “Yes.” He fists his hands at his sides, like he’s working hard to restrain himself.

It only turns me on further.

I give him one stroke. “What about my mouth?”

His chest rises and falls with each heavy inhale and exhale, pulling my attention there. To the light dusting of chest hair. With my free hand, I trace my thumb over his right nipple and rake through the hair with my fingertips.

I bat my eyes up at him when he doesn’t answer me. “You don’t want me to put my mouth on your cock?”

His Adam’s apple bobs, his dark irises burning. “You’ve got to stop talking about my dick.”

A laugh escapes me, causing my chest to brush against his torso. My nipples pebble, somehow even harder than they already were. “Why?”

“Because every time the word cock leaves your mouth, I’m afraid I’m going to blow my load like a teenager.”

I stick my lip out in a mock pout. “But it’s my favorite word.”

With his eyes narrowed on me, he grips my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “It can be your favorite word later.”

He captures my mouth in a kiss before I can sass back .

I smile against his lips, pumping my hand up and down his length.

“Please,” I breathe, my core clenching in anticipation.

“Please, what?” he mocks, licking his way down my neck and between my breasts. He drops to one knee, forcing me to release him.

At the sight of him kneeling on the floor before me, I whimper.

“Please, fuck me.”

He tilts his head and smirks, the expression dark and wicked. “Are you sure you don’t want me to lick this pussy first?” He rubs that aching spot between my legs, the one still covered with the tight material of my workout shorts. “For months, I’ve been dreaming about what this pussy tastes like.”

I nod, whimpering again. There’s no hiding my desperation. “Yes. Do that.”

He chuckles, the sound a low rumble, and grabs my waistband. Then, in one quick move, he yanks them and my underwear down.

“Fuck.” The word is a slow, low growl. “Look at you. So pretty and pink and soaking wet for me .”

“Y-yes.” I cup my breasts. “For you.”

He presses two fingers against my pussy, spreading the lips. His eyes flick up to meet mine. “Put your feet on the counter.”

I do as he says, spreading myself even more for him. It’s not the most comfortable position, my back pressing into the mirror behind me, but with Derrick on his knees in front of me, I’ve never felt better.

His warm palms land on my thighs and spread them farther, and when he angles in, I swear he inhales my scent before he licks me. I gasp and squeeze my eyes shut at the sensation of his tongue on my most sensitive spot, my brain short circuiting. I’ve been dreaming about this—him—for what feels like forever, and it’s finally happening.

When I look down, he’s watching me, tongue flicking over my clit.

Hand trembling, I glide my fingers through his damp hair and tug at the strands. A tiny smile lifts the corners of his lips, though the expression is almost imperceptible with his face between my thighs.

“Derrick,” I whimper, dropping my head back against the mirror. I rock my hips into his face and his hands tighten against my thighs, holding me down firmly. A silent command to let him do his thing.

It isn’t long before an orgasm crashes through me. I cry out, my body shaking from the quivering high. He doesn’t let up, though, not until the last of my orgasm has fled.

Only then does he stand. He keeps his left hand on my thigh while he strokes himself with his right, his focus drifting from my face to my breasts to my pussy and back again. As much as I want to reach out to him, I’m boneless. I will my hands to work, to touch him, to drag my fingers down his stomach, but I can’t move.

His hand leaves my thigh, then he’s grabbing me behind the neck instead. He pulls me to him, meeting me in the middle, and lavishes my mouth with bruising kisses that taste like me. Despite the intense orgasm he just gave me, my body craves more. It begs to be filled by him.

He pulls away, and with his forehead pressed to mine, he asks, “Are you sure about this? Once we do this?—”

I silence him with a kiss. “I’m sure.”

He looks up, uttering a “thank fuck. ”

Guiding his cock to my pussy, he pushes in a fraction of an inch and pulls back out. Then again. Teasing me.

The third time, he freezes, and his wide eyes meet mine. “Condom—I don’t have condoms.”

“I’m safe,” I blurt out the words, desperate to keep him from stopping this.

“Me, too.” The look of relief on his face would no doubt have me falling to my knees if I weren’t seated on the counter, spread like a feast just for him. “I can… I’ll pull out.”

“You don’t have to, if you don’t want to. I have an implant.”

“ Fuck .” He drops his head to my chest. “You’re killing me.”

“Please, don’t die before you fuck me.”

Chest shaking with amusement, he turns his head and presses a kiss to the underside of my jaw.

“Only you could make me laugh at a time like this.” He rises to his full height, and looks down at me, taking me in, naked and vulnerable. “God, you’re beautiful, Izzy.”

Izzy.

I’ve never loved the sound of my name more.

With a hand on his length, he gives himself a couple of pumps, then lines up at my entrance. He eases in like before, but this time, he goes deeper. Back out. In again.

He takes my hips, pulling me closer and sliding in deeper at the same time. With a gasp, I sit up straighter so I can put my arms around his shoulders.

When he pushes in again, he fills me completely, consuming me.

“Derrick, oh God.”

My body stretches to accommodate his size and I lean back again.

Full. So fucking full .

“Fuck,” he curses, gripping my throat with one hand. “God, look at you. Look at the way your pussy takes my cock. Such a good girl.”

With his other hand, he finds my clit and rubs circles with his thumb.

“Fuck, Izzy, you’re so pretty.” His eyes are glazed with lust and maybe something more as he takes me in.

He rocks his hips against mine, slow and steady. The deep, sure press of him has my eyes threatening to roll back. He fills me in a way I’ve never experienced before. It isn’t even about his size. It’s the way he knows exactly how to hold me, how to rock his hips so I get the best friction.

It’s a reminder that Derrick is very much a grown man, one with way more experience than any of the guys I’ve been with.

“Derrick.” His name is a plea. I reach for him, my fingers grazing his taut stomach. “Harder, please. I’m so close.”

His eyes darken at my words, their normal golden brown going molten. “You wanna come all over my cock, pretty girl?”

“Y-yes,” I stutter, nodding desperately.

He crashes his mouth to mine, stealing what little breath I have left.

He finds the speed and rhythm that has my body shaking, and when I go over that ledge screaming his name, he holds me through it.

His strokes slow as I come down from my orgasm, and he looks me over like he’s memorizing every inch of me, every millisecond of this encounter. He clenches his jaw, looking away with a muttered “fuck.”

Heart stumbling with fear, I cup his jaw and force his gaze back to me.

Is he regretting this already? He hasn’t even finished.

“What?” I implore .

He swallows, and I swear the fear that’s plaguing me flickers in his eyes. “I don’t want this to end.”

Relief sweeps through me, followed by surprise. Because he’s talking about more than just this . He’s talking about us .

Teeth gritted, he squeezes his eyes shut and pumps into me. Then, with a moan, he buries his face in the crook of my neck and comes. Palming the back of his head, I hold him, wishing I never had to let go.

We stay like that for a minute, maybe two. I’m not sure. Time feels weird. Like it’s sped up and slowed down all at once. Probably because I’m struggling to wrap my head around what happened.

Derrick carefully pulls away from me. As he goes, he takes in every inch of my body, though it’s not in a lustful way like before. Instead, it’s as though he’s checking me over to ensure that I’m okay. His attention lingers on my throat, like maybe, like me, he’s thinking about what it felt like to have his hand there.

He’s still inside me, still half hard. The urge to wiggle my hips, to bring that friction back, is strong, but I can’t stay in this position much longer. Being fucked on the bathroom counter is hot and all, but it’s not exactly comfortable.

Derrick pulls out of me slowly, and I whimper at the loss of him.

His eyes narrow in on that sensitive place between my thighs—aching from both the loss of him and what he just did to my body—then he’s sliding a hand up my leg.

“What are you?—”

His touch leaves me speechless. With two fingers, he gently pushes his semen back inside me.

The action is far hotter than I ever could have imagined, and I’m not sure I want to know what that says about me .

When his warm eyes meet mine, I search for any sign of regret there, but I find nothing.

Though the man can be so incredibly difficult to read.

His eyes still on mine, he slides the shower door open and reaches behind him to turn it on.

He waits for the water to warm, then he drags me inside with him.

“Just a shower,” he says. “Nothing more.”

It’s a lie. We both know it.

He doesn’t protest when I sink to my knees and take him into my mouth.

I don’t protest when he lifts me and puts my back against the wall, then settles his cock deep inside me once more.

Now that I’ve had him, I don’t know how I’ll ever live without this.