21. Chapter 21
Chapter 21
Derek
I thought I forgave Faith before, but it's clear I hadn't until now. When we get inside the house, I feel lighter looking at her, like the hurt I always felt around her finally faded. I swear I thought it already had, especially after last night, but I guess there was still some of the past I was holding onto.
Forgiveness is really for you, not them.
I expect to hear the lesson in Chelsea's voice like it always is, but instead, it's my own. I'm not overly insightful, but I'm sure that must mean something important.
"Don't you have work to worry about?" she asks once we settle on the couch.
"My clients decided to give me the week off," I say as I lay a blanket over us. I wrap my arm over her shoulder, bringing her into my chest, where the smell of snow and ice still lingers on her hair. "What about you?"
"I already texted the lead nurse and told her I'm dealing with food poisoning. Vomit is the only thing she can't stand when working with patients, so I texted a very vivid picture," she chuckles.
"I take it she didn't object?"
"She told me to take all the time I need," she says. "I'm just hoping the cops get Ryan sooner rather than later so I can go back to work without having to look over my shoulder."
"They'll get him," I assure her. "If they don't, I know a few people who can."
She looks up at me, her eyes searching mine for any hint of the truth behind my words. "You make it sound like you're in the mafia or something.
"Or something," I tell her, which makes her look up at me with curious eyes as if she's trying to tell if I'm messing with her. "I just have a couple of friends within the protection agency I work for who owe me favors, that's all."
"Good to know," she says and lays her head back down on my chest as we find a movie to watch. But in the silence, my mind can't help but jump from one thought to another, all circulating around Faith.
It's only now that the guilt for what I've been doing to her all these years is really setting in, and I'm not quite sure how to handle it. The weight of my words and the harshness of my accusations all come crashing down on me. I'm not sure how I would live with myself if someone kept blaming me for Chelsea's death the way I blamed Faith.
Even though it was dark and hard to see, if anyone besides Greg Sampson had any blame, it would be me.
I know how many times I've wished I could go back to that night and done it differently, gone a different way home, or driven somewhere else to save us from the crash, but now, the biggest thing I want to go back and redo are all the times I put another crack on Faith's heart. I wish I could undo all the hurt I've caused. If I could take back even one of those moments, maybe it would ease the pain I've inflicted on her.
"I'm sorry," I whisper, softly kissing the top of her head. Thinking she's already drifted off to sleep. But she stirs, her eyes fluttering open.
"For what?" she mumbles, rubbing her sleepy eyes.
"Everything," I admit. The words are heavy with the weight of years of regret. "I did so many things wrong, and you got the worst of me. I'm so sorry, Faith."
She looks up at me, and her hand caresses my cheek. Her touch is warm, and I can't help but lean into it, closing my eyes as if trying to memorize this moment, afraid it might slip away.
"You don't have to keep apologizing," she insists.
"I know, but I still hate what I put you through and—"
Her kiss silences me, her lips pressing against mine with a desperation that speaks louder than words. Her legs straddle me, locking me into a kiss I don't want to break. Between breaths, she whispers, "You want to make it up to me? Then take me right here on this couch."
"Wait, what?" I pull back slightly, searching her face, sure I've misheard.
"You heard me," she grins and looks down at me, waiting for my grin to match hers. And when it does, she says, "You're not the only one who can be convincing, Derek."
Her words set something off in me. I waste no time pulling her top off, followed by her bra, and before I know it, we're both stripped down, our bodies pressed against each other with a heat that banishes the cold from earlier. Her hands are everywhere, her touch igniting every nerve, her fingers stroking me with a skill that has me on the edge. It forces me to use every ounce of self-control not to ravage her right then and there.
"I have to taste you," I breathe, pulling her leggings off and diving between her legs without hesitation. I'm not gentle, not teasing I give her everything, my tongue exploring every inch of her, drawing out sounds from her that drive me wild. I give her exactly what she wants, and I relish in the slight of her back arching the second I drag my tongue over every inch of her sweet, wet pussy.
"Oh, fuck…" she moans when I suck her clit. Her hand reaches down, and her fingers run through my hair as her hips grind against my tongue. I slide one finger inside her, then another, until I feel her tighten around me. I watch as her breath quickens, and her beautiful moans turn to whimpers and when I urge her to cum for me, she does, her body trembling under my touch. Her orgasm explodes as she comes on my tongue, on my fingers, and I don't let up. I draw out her orgasm as long as I can, only pulling back when she grabs my hand, begging to catch her breath.
"If I didn't know any better, I think you were trying to kill me," she says as I leave a trail of kisses going up her tummy.
"Just being thorough," I smirk and tease her entrance with the head of my cock. But at the last second, I pull her up by her hips. "Bend over the back of the couch."
She obeys, and I slide into her, the feeling of her gripping me so tightly, driving away any restraint I thought I had. My hands find her hips, and I thrust into her, first slow, then harder, faster, until her voice fills the room, begging for more.
Wrapping my fingers around her long locks, I pull back slightly to devour her neck in kisses while my other hand grabs and teases her hard nipples. I don't stop my relentless pace until I feel her walls clench around me again and go over the edge of yet another orgasm, and I lose myself in her, our bodies moving in a rhythm that's as old as time itself. We both reach the edge, as we tumble over it together, I know this moment will be etched in my memory forever.
"Come here." I wrap my arm around her waist and pull us down against the couch, draping the blanket over our bodies.
"Oh, fuck… I don't think my legs work," she says when she lays on my chest.
I can't help but grin. "Does this mean I'm forgiven?"
"Absolutely," she breathes. "You were holding back before."
"Just a little," I admit. "Was it too much?"
"It was just right," she says with a sleepy grin.
I feel her body relax and melt into mine as we both drift off to sleep, and there's peace between us for the first time in what feels like forever.
As sleep begins to claim us, I can't help but think that this is where I'm meant to be. Right here, with her. But as the room darkens, I know the real challenge is just beginning. Because forgiving myself—that's going to take more than a single night.