Chapter 9 Pumpkin Patch Disaster #2
“I'm a perfectionist, not a snob.”
“Same thing.”
“Try mine,” he said, nodding toward his booth. “Fair's fair.”
We walked to his setup, and he moved behind the counter with practiced ease. I watched as he pulled a perfect shot, steamed milk with precision I'd never achieve, and started pouring.
“Come here,” he said.
I moved behind the counter, and he pulled me in front of him, handing me the pitcher of milk.
“Feel the weight of it,” he said, his hand covering mine again, guiding the pour. “It's all about control. Steady hands.”
My hands were anything but steady with him pressed against my back, his breath warm against my ear. But somehow, together, we created a perfect rosetta in the foam.
“See?” His voice was low, intimate. “You can do it when you're not overthinking.”
I turned my head slightly, and suddenly we were inches apart. His eyes dropped to my mouth.
“Derek—”
“Miles, I swear to god, if you two don't kiss already, I'm going to lose my mind.”
We sprang apart like we'd been electrocuted. Jenna stood at the edge of Derek's booth, arms crossed, grinning like the cat that caught the canary. Beside her, Lila wore a matching expression.
“How long have you been standing there?” I demanded, my face burning.
“Long enough,” Lila said. “That was the most sexually charged coffee lesson I've ever witnessed.”
“We were just—”
“Eye-fucking each other over espresso?” Jenna supplied helpfully.
Derek cleared his throat, his own face flushed. “We were teaching each other techniques.”
“Is that what we're calling it now?” Lila's grin widened.
I wanted to die. Actually sink into the ground and disappear forever.
“You know what?” I grabbed my jacket from the booth. “I'm going home. This day has been long enough.”
“I'll drive you,” Derek said quickly.
“You don't have to—”
“I want to.”
Lila and Jenna exchanged looks that I chose to ignore. We said our goodbyes, both of us avoiding eye contact with our respective meddling friends, and headed to the parking lot.
Derek's car was sleek and clean, exactly like I'd expected.
I slid into the passenger seat, and he started the engine, pulling out onto the quiet street.
The town looked different at night, streetlights casting pools of gold on the pavement.
Jack-o'-lanterns still glowed from storefronts, their carved faces flickering. It was peaceful. Beautiful, even.
“Sorry about that,” Derek said after a moment, his hands steady on the wheel. “Jenna has no boundaries.”
“Neither does Lila. They're probably planning our wedding as we speak.”
He laughed. “Terrifying thought.”
We drove in comfortable silence, and I watched the town slide by through the window. Every so often, I'd catch Derek glancing at me, and each time our eyes met.
When he pulled up in front of my building, he didn't immediately unlock the doors. Just sat there, engine idling, both of us staring straight ahead.
“Thanks,” I said finally. “For today. For helping with the booth.”
“Anytime.”
The silence stretched, heavy with everything unsaid. The kiss in the closet. The way he made me feel like maybe I wasn't as alone as I thought.
“Or...” Derek's voice was quiet, uncertain in a way I'd never heard from him before. “Do you want to come to my place. I've got better coffee than whatever you're brewing in that disaster of a kitchen.”
I turned to look at him, and his eyes were already on me, searching. Wanting.
“Yeah,” I said, my heart pounding. “Yeah, I'd like that.”
He put the car in drive, and we headed toward his place, neither of us speaking but both of us knowing exactly what this meant.
When we pulled into his building's lot and he killed the engine, the quiet felt different. Charged. Derek's hand found mine across the console, and I laced our fingers together.
“You sure about this?” he asked.
I squeezed his hand. “I'm sure.”
We got out and headed inside, and when Derek unlocked his door and we stepped into his loft, I stopped wondering what the hell I was doing.
The door closed behind us with a soft, final click, sealing the world out and leaving just the two of us in the hush of Derek’s loft. My heart pounded in my throat—part nerves, part anticipation, part the thrill of finally being here, of being wanted this openly, this fiercely.
Derek’s gaze swept over me, blue eyes dark and hungry, but soft, too. For a second, I wondered if he’d say something clever or deflect, but he only smiled, the edges of his mouth twitching in that way that always made me want to confess every secret.
“Come here,” he said, his voice roughened by restraint.
Before I could think, he closed the distance, big hands settling at my waist, strong and steady, grounding me. The wall pressed cool against my back, stealing my breath as his body boxed me in, not trapping, but shielding. Protecting. Claiming, just a little.
His mouth brushed mine—tentative at first, as if testing whether this was really allowed, whether I’d pull away.
No chance in hell. I pushed up on my toes, eager, and he swallowed my gasp, deepening the kiss, slow and deliberate, lips sliding against mine, his tongue coaxing rather than demanding.
The gentleness made my knees buckle. The control underneath it made me shiver.
Fingers squeezed at my sides, not letting me drift, and his thumb found the bare sliver of skin where my shirt had ridden up, circling, feather-light. Goosebumps swept up my spine, heat coiling low, a wildfire just waiting for permission.
“You taste like pumpkin and trouble,” Derek murmured, his breath ghosting over my lips, a smile in his words.
“Don’t ruin this,” I whispered, grinning into his mouth. “You keep talking like that, and I’m never letting you make fun of my coffee again.”
He kissed me harder, then softer, then just pressed his forehead to mine, noses brushing. “You could serve me dishwater and I’d still think it was magic if you were the one handing it to me.”
Warmth swept through me, a flush I couldn’t blame on embarrassment. My hands found his shoulders, sliding up the curve of muscle, holding on. “Sappy. I didn’t know you had it in you.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” His thumb traced my jaw, tilting my chin so he could look at me. The blue of his eyes was stormy, focused, like he was memorizing every line. “But you can. If you want.”
I blinked, fighting not to melt completely. “Yeah. I do. Even the parts that drive me crazy.”
His lips curved. “Especially those.”
Fingers dug into my waist and he spun me gently, pressing me even firmer to the wall. His mouth landed just beneath my ear, stubble scratching, and I shuddered. My laugh was half nerves, half delight. “You trying to drive me out of my mind?”
“Not yet. Just want to take my time.” He nipped my earlobe, sending another shiver all the way to my toes. “All night, if you’ll let me.”
“Cocky,” I shot back, giggling as his lips trailed lower, brushing the sensitive spot where my neck met my shoulder. “And here I thought you were the responsible one.”
“I’m responsible for a lot of things. But right now I just want to be responsible for making you feel good. Can I?”
There was no way to say no. My head tipped back, exposing more of my neck, inviting him to explore.
He took the invitation, mouth lingering on my pulse, tongue flicking out, breath hot.
My hands slid under the hem of his shirt, searching for skin, finding the soft heat there, the flex of muscle that made my stomach flip.
His hands traveled upward, tracing the curve of my ribs, barely skimming the sides, and I squeaked, wriggling instinctively. “Don’t—” A laugh burst out of me, unguarded. “I’m ticklish.”
A wicked glint flickered in his eyes. “Yeah?” His fingers found that spot again, dancing over my ribs, making me squirm and gasp and try to twist away.
“Derek—stop, I’m serious—” But I couldn’t stop laughing, the tension dissolving into something giddy and golden as he kept teasing, kept chasing my breathless giggles with feather-light touches and messy, delighted kisses.
“God, you’re cute when you’re helpless,” he whispered, his own voice thick with laughter, mouth finding mine again, swallowing every giggle, every shaky inhale.
He gripped my hips tighter, anchoring me, and let his kisses grow deeper, wetter, more possessive.
His tongue claimed my mouth, his teeth nipped at my lower lip, then soothed the sting with another lazy lick.
I pulled him closer, needing more, wanting everything but not quite ready to lose myself completely.
“Slow down,” I whispered, more for myself than him.
His breath puffed out, gentle. “We have all night. No rush.”
He framed my face with both hands, kissing my cheeks, my eyelids, my nose, every touch reverent and unhurried. Each kiss was a promise, a secret, a question answered with the press of his mouth to mine.
“I want to see you come apart,” Derek whispered, lips dragging down to my jaw. “Want to watch you fall apart in my hands. You’re fucking beautiful when you let go.”
A shiver tore through me. “Not yet. Just—keep doing that. The kissing. The teasing.”
His lips brushed my temple, then back to my mouth. “Anything you want, Miles. Tonight, anything.”
Hands tangled in his hair, I tugged him down for another kiss, needy and soft and messy. We moved together, bodies shifting, my thigh sliding between his, his knee pressing between mine, friction sparking, hunger humming through every nerve.
Laughter, breath, the slip of hands under clothes, the stutter of kisses—each moment drew us tighter, made the world smaller, made the tension sweeter.
For the first time in a long time, I didn’t want to run. Didn’t want to hide. I wanted to stay right here, pressed between Derek and the wall, tasting his mouth and hearing his laughter, until there was nothing left but heat and honesty and the slow unraveling of every defense.