Her Troika (The Complete Story) (Dominion Trust Book 2) (33 page)

“You don’t need to do this, Derek. This doesn’t threaten us, as a couple.” She took a step toward him. “We want this. And I think you do too, but you’re too scared to see where it might go.”

He fixed a cold gaze upon her, and her breath caught in her throat. “You don’t know what you’re saying. You don’t want this.”

“Yes, I do.”

She wanted it even though she could see the pain there, just under the surface. She wanted to see all of it, to feel all of it — and for him to know she still wanted him.

Derek rubbed the back of his neck. “This is fucking … nuts. The cab should be here in a minute.”

“I’m not taking a cab. I’m going with you, Derek.”

He grabbed her by the arms and yanked her against him, his eyes flashing. His voice dropped to a low growl she felt vibrate within the core of her body. “Listen to me, Breanna. I can’t — I won’t do this. If I let anyone in … it can’t happen again. I’m not right for you, for this.”

She lifted her chin, pushing at his chest. “It doesn’t matter what happened to you, what you think you did wrong — none of it was your fault, and none of it matters anymore. Just because one woman hurt you doesn’t mean all of us will.” Then she hugged herself to him, laid her cheek against his chest, listening to the strong pound of his heart. He released his grip, and his arms wrapped around her, his muscles vibrating with tension. “Some of us
need
what you are. Don’t throw away the chance to be who you really are inside. Take one more chance, Derek. Take it on me — on us. I promise, I won’t hurt you. Not ever.”

His lips moved against her hair, his voice so quiet, she could scarcely hear it above the sound of the breeze. “What you two have is … beautiful. I want that, too. But I’ll never have it — because you already do. Three is one too many, Breanna — no matter how much I wish it were otherwise.”

“Derek, wait—”

“No, Breanna. Just … no.” He pulled her chin up. “Don’t mess up a good thing, right? You and Kurt — it’s
good
. And I’m not going to be the one to fuck that up.”

“Don’t do this, Derek.”

“It’s done.” He stepped back, the sound of a car pulling up at the curb behind her. His eyes met hers, and where she’d seen that steely resolve moments before, now she saw the depth of that pain, saw just how deep it went. Tears pricked at her eyes. “Get in the cab, Breanna. I won’t be there next week. Or any other week, either.”

The car door opened behind her, the faint static of a dispatcher’s radio crackling from the interior.

“I’m not getting in that cab, Derek.” She crossed her arms. “I remember how you were, how we were, and I’m not throwing that away. I’m not throwing away the chance at something great.”

“You aren’t throwing anything away, Breanna. I’m not doing this. Period.”

She reached back and slammed the door closed, then turned on Derek, willing the tears welling at her eyes not to fall. “Maybe you’re too scared to be happy. Too afraid of what you might find once you let your fucking guard down. Is that it?”

“Get in the car.” His jaw clenched. “We’re not doing this.”

“I guess you’re going to have to take me home then, because there’s no way I’m leaving here without you, Derek. I’m not giving up on this.”

Why was he fighting this so much? She knew he wanted her, so why was he pushing her away, even after all that had happened that magical, surreal weekend? His ex had done a number on him, royally fucked him over — but there was more to this, something else she didn’t yet understand.

And she had to find out what it was. Because if she did, if she could unravel the mystery that was this beautiful, injured man, she thought she might have a chance, just one chance, to help heal his hurt, to show him what real happiness, real joy, real acceptance meant.

Yes, there was a chance, and she’d be damned if she passed that up.

His eyes narrowed, then he turned, walking back toward the crowded parking lot.

No. Not like this. This isn’t what it was supposed to be, dammit!

She watched him go, not quite believing that this was happening, feeling as if their future, their chance, was slipping through her fingers.

Then Derek paused at the door to his truck. He squared his broad shoulders, his hands clenched into those big fists of his. He shook his head, his hair moving with the swift movement, then turned back, striding toward her. His eyes blazed with a fire she hadn’t seen since the weekend.

God, yes.

He strode past her, pinning her in place with a baleful look that had her heart jumping and her pussy spasming. He tapped on the driver’s side window of the cab, handing a few bills to the driver. The cab eased away from the curb, leaving Derek there, his hands on his hips. He looked down a moment, muttering something under his breath. Then he stepped back up onto the curb, and took her hand, leading her behind him once more as he headed back toward the truck.

“Derek, what are we—”

“I don’t want to hear a word from you, Breanna,” he growled from the corner of his mouth, not even looking back at her. “We’re going home.”

Her heart raced as he led her through the parking lot, her wrist clamped in his fist. She spotted his big truck, and he stopped her at the passenger side, reaching around her to open the door, the pleasant male scent of him just detectable from inside.

“Take off the jacket,” Derek said, holding out his hand.

“Um, okay. Why?” She was already fingering open the buttons.

“I have no idea, actually.” He moved closer, backing her closer to the door. “But I still want you to do what I tell you.”

“Here, then.” She placed it in his hand, her pulse pounding under her jaw. She’d worn a sleeveless blouse underneath the jacket, and the breeze from the water instantly cooled the flesh of her bare upper arms.

His eyes coursed over the snug fit of the blouse across her breasts. “Take off the blouse too.”

“Derek, this isn’t the farm. We’re in public.”

“I’m well aware of where we are, dear.” He waved his hand. “Blouse. Now.”

The open door and the height of the truck kept her basically hidden from view from three sides, Derek’s tall, muscular form partially concealing her should anyone happen by the rear of the vehicle. She was probably safe from discovery.

Probably.

He dipped his chin, his gaze darkening. “Off, Breanna.”

Heat flooded her cheeks as she unbuttoned the blouse, pulling it from the snug grip of her skirt. She was glad she’d been allowed underwear that day; Kurt frequently forbid it, but knowing she had to meet several clients today, had relented this time.

“You know how to show off those tits, I’ll give you that,” Derek’s finger traced the top edge of the lacy white push-up bra.

Breanna didn’t know what to do with her hands, knowing that despite the overwhelming urge to do so, he wouldn’t be happy if she covered up her breasts. She clenched her hands into fists, and thrust her shoulders back defiantly. “Happy now?”

She wasn’t sure what he was doing, and she knew it probably wasn’t a good idea to be surly with him — but part of her was as intrigued as she was mortified by her exposure. Maybe she wanted to see what he might do? Though he’d seemed reluctant earlier, this was more like the Derek she remembered from the farm — and she hoped she’d see more of this side of him tonight.

A lot more.

“Watch your tone,” he said, his gaze flashing. “And no, I’m not happy yet. You pushed your luck with me, and now you’re seeing what happens. You’re not done. Skirt.”

“You … you’re serious?” She tried to look past his shoulder, but he moved to block her view.

“Do I need to show you how serious? You think this is all a game don’t you, Breanna? Things all falling into place just how you want them, is that it?”

“I —”

“Just lose the skirt. We’re not leaving until you do.”

Struggling with the tight skirt, she wiggled her hips as she pushed it down her legs. She couldn’t meet his eyes, her cheeks burning as she felt the weight of his avid gaze upon her. Mercifully, she worked it loose, her hand grabbing the door for balance as she stepped out of the skirt. She folded the garment in shaking hands and handed it to him, then stooped down flicking a questioning glance at him as her fingers worked at the strap at her ankle.

“No, keep the heels on.”

Straightening, her hands fluttered in front of her a moment, then she pressed them to the sides of her thighs. His eyes dropped lower, a grin brightening his features. “Matching, I see. Very pretty, Breanna.”

Her breath was labored, her pulse loud in her ears.

A black four door import with tinted windows rolled by, heading for the exit, and Breanna cringed, leaning into the interior of the truck, much to Derek’s amusement.

His laughter fired the heat of her blushing several degrees higher. “Relax, Breanna. They didn’t see anything.”

“Derek … we should go.”

“Turn around.”

“What?”

His jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing.

She obeyed, closing her eyes, wishing that for once she hadn’t chosen a thong this morning. His hand smacked her ass with a loud splat, the burst of heat raising her up onto her toes. “Ow!”

“That’s for that smart mouth of yours.”

She moved to turn, but his hand clamped down on the join between her shoulder and neck, the grip firm. “No, stay right where you are. Gonna get an eyeful of this thong, bad girl.”

His palm smoothed over her smarting buttock, squeezing her flesh gently, the tips of his fingers playing with the strip of fabric that dove between the cheeks of her ass. “Very, very nice.”

“Derek,
please
.”

“All right, all right.” He brushed up against her ass, his arm pulling her tight to his body, his erection pressing into the soft flesh of her bottom. “God, this body of yours ...”

She yelped as his hands caught her under her arms, hoisting her up and inside the truck. He leaned over her, buckling her in, and she breathed in his scent. Chancing his displeasure, she gave him a quick peck on his ear. He looked up at her, a surprised smile on his face.

Then his expression went neutral once more, and he cleared his throat. “Time to get you home.”

The ride home felt considerably longer with her body on such blatant display, her breasts jiggling and wobbling in the clutch of her bra at each bump in the road. His gaze coursed over her several times, especially as traffic ground to a halt in the city’s notoriously bad evening commute. Fortunately, with the height of his big truck, she doubted most of the motorists could see much, with the exception of any passing big rigs — and she guessed they were used to seeing a lot more interesting things than a chick in her underwear.

He turned the truck toward I-5 — the opposite direction from her house in Ballard. “Derek, wrong way.”

A small smile creased his lips. “We’re not going to your place. We’re going to mine.”

“Oh.”

Her mouth dried at the prospect. She’d still believed that as soon as he got her home, he’d probably just give her clothes back and dump her out on the sidewalk, having proved whatever point he was trying to make.

Now, though, something else
entirely
was in the works — and she hadn’t a clue what it was. She didn’t know whether to silently scream for joy, or let her feet do a little dance on the floorboards of the truck. So she did both.

Snaking the big four wheel drive through traffic-clogged roads, he drove them into the U district just east of the freeway, hanging a right into a neighborhood of tightly packed residential and commercial buildings crowding either side of the street.

“Why here?” she asked, as he pulled the truck into a parking space next to a small three floor apartment building with faded wood-toned siding. The building was sandwiched between two much taller structures, their shadows darkening the street.

“Good a place as any. Close to work.” He winked, killing the ignition. “Young college chicks everywhere doesn’t hurt, either.”

She laughed. “Dirty old man.”

“Guilty as charged, counselor.” He tapped her bare thigh with the back of his hand. “Now, out of the truck. We’ve got things to … discuss.”

Chapter Twenty Six

"G
o into my bedroom and lay down over the bed. Face down."

The walk up the stairs to his place had been ... interesting. How often does a man — in near broad daylight — get to watch the roll and sway of a woman's nearly naked ass as she walks up the stairs? Her blushes and darting looks, obviously worried she'd be spotted by a stranger, made it all the sweeter for him. He wasn't sure why her embarrassment added something to his enjoyment, but it definitely did.

The brass tapper rattled as he closed the door, his eyes zeroing in on the luscious movement of those buttocks. He wanted nothing more than to turn them an angry scarlet, to hear her anguished cries.

First, he needed to try his best to talk her out of this.

She turned wide eyes back to him from the darkness of the hall, hesitating at the threshold to his bedroom.