Taxi (Take It Off #11)

by Cambria Hebert

  Derek was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed in front of him. The look on his face was intensely dark. Until he looked up and saw me.

  That darkness was replaced by amusement.

  “What?” I asked, looking down.

  “You look adorable.”

  “Adorable?” I echoed and rolled my eyes.

  “You ready?”

  I nodded enthusiastically. I turned to grab my things and realized I didn’t have any. I had no idea what happened to my purse, my IDs, my evil shoes… My phone.

  By now, surely someone had missed me. I talked to my mother on the phone almost every morning. She was probably worried sick I didn’t answer. How many times had she tried to call me? Five? Ten?

  As soon as I got home, I made a mental note to call her from a landline.

  Just the idea of having to tell my parents what was done to me made me want to weep. They were going to be beside themselves, and honestly… I just didn’t have the energy for it.

  “C’mon, then,” he said and bent low in front of me. Thoughts of telling my family about my recent ordeal went away as I stared at him.

  He glanced over his shoulder. “You got something against piggyback rides?”

  “I can walk.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “With a bullet hole in your leg?”

  “I’m getting around okay.” I protested.

  “You look like the damn Easter Bunny hopping around. You haven’t even touched your crutches.”

  I made a face.

  “Fine, I’ll call for a wheelchair.”

  I made a defeated sound. He laughed. I liked the way his teeth looked extra white against the darkness of his stubble. “A man always gets an ego boost when he’s preferred over a chair with wheels.”

  I started to grin, but he swept me up into his arms, against his body.

  His chest was wide and solid, his heat radiant and delicious. I melted into him like chocolate too close to a flame, and my cheek fell against his shoulder.

  “I thought it was going to be a piggyback ride?” I murmured, my eyes slipping closed.

  I was such a sucker.

  He bent, his lips brushing the top of my head as he spoke. “I think I like you right here.”

  On the way out of the hospital, I heard some nurses whispering. I smiled a little to myself and didn’t lift my head.

  We managed to snag an elevator alone. Once inside, Derek hit the button and then leaned against the side. I looked up; he looked down. Our lips met softly.

  When the elevator slid to a stop, he pulled back, and I sighed.

  “Derek!” someone called when he stepped out. His muscles tensed, and he turned with me in his hold.

  I glanced up, knowing this wasn’t just some busybody nurse. It was a woman with long blond hair and a tall, willowy frame.

  “Hey, Reggie,” he said. The way they used each other’s first names spoke of familiarity.

  “I heard you were kidnapped. My word!” She rushed to close the distance, her eyes flicking to me, then back up. “Let me get you a wheelchair for her.”

  She started to lift her hand to signal someone.

  “Not necessary,” Derek replied and pulled me a little closer against him.

  Her eyes came back to me, more interested this time.

  “We were just on our way out. It’s been a very long night.”

  “I can imagine,” she murmured, still looking at me.

  “Do you know Rose, from the coffee truck outside?” he asked, glancing down at me.

  I smiled at her, but didn’t bother straightening. I was too comfortable.

  “I don’t drink coffee,” she replied smoothly. “I prefer tea.”

  Remember what I said about how I didn’t judge people who didn’t like coffee?

  Well, I was judging her.

  She was getting a low score.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, forlorn. It was a joke. I made it all the time. But it was also a little dig. She knew it. Women understood women and their bitchiness.

  As usual, Derek had no clue about the undercurrents between me and this doctor (she was wearing a white lab coat), and he chuckled at the joke. I felt it rumble right against my side. It tickled.

  Her eyes flashed a little at that. She was jealous. If she wasn’t involved with him, she sure wanted to be.

  I laid my cheek back against his chest and sighed.

  Finders keepers… I don’t know why the words sang through my brain. I had no idea which one of us “found” Derek first. I mean, really. This wasn’t grade school.

  But I wanted to keep him anyway.

  “Well, we should go. I’ll see you in a day or two when I’m back on rounds,” he said.

  “Of course,” she purred. “If there’s anything I can do to help you out around the hospital, don’t hesitate to ask. I know I don’t see post-surgical patients, but I can make an exception for you.”

  “You’re the best,” he called and headed for the exit.

  “She wants to date you,” I said the second he stepped onto the sidewalk outside.

  “How’d you know that?” he mused.

  I rolled my eyes. “She practically whipped out a bridal magazine right there.”

  “Someone’s jealous,” he sang.

  “No, I’m just tired from being kidnapped and shot,” I barked.

  “Jealous,” he whispered loudly.

  I ignored him.

  When he realized I wasn’t going to engage in this ridiculous conversation (I wasn’t about to tell him I was jealous of the blond, Amazonian, smart doctor), he spoke up. “I’m not interested in her, fairy. I’m interested in you.”

  I snuggled against him a little farther.

  “Is this your car?” I asked when I was placed gently in the passenger seat of some kind of Jeep SUV.

  He blanched. “It’s my sisters. My car is at my place. I didn’t want to call a cab.”

  “How nice of our kidnapper to offer us a vehicle to get home in.” I deduced.

  Hey, I said I was grateful to be alive; I didn’t say I forgave that woman.

  “You can still turn her in, you know,” he murmured, caressing the side of my cheek.

  I turned my face to look at him. “You could, too,” I said soft.

  “Yeah,” he replied, short, and shut my door silently to go around to the driver’s seat.

  It was wrong to say that. He had to be so conflicted inside. On one hand, he probably wanted her to rot in prison. On the other, she was his sister and the mother of his nephew.

  To put him in the middle like I just did was wrong.

  “Derek…” I admonished and put a hand over his when he placed them on the steering wheel.

  He paused and looked out the windshield.

  “I shouldn’t have said that,” I told him.

  “You have every right,” he replied.

  After that, we said nothing at all. The ride to my place was filled with awkward silence, except when I told him where to turn.

  When my apartment came into sight, I started to cry. Not like heaving sobs, but there were some tears. The relief I felt to be at home was undeniable.

  “Want me to walk you in?” he asked gently, pretending not to notice the wetness on my cheeks.

  “Please,” I whispered.

  “Stay there,” he said and jogged around to get me.

  The awkwardness from the car wasn’t there the second he pulled me into his arms. It just didn’t matter with Derek. His touch eclipsed all.

  I told him the number, and when we were outside the door, he glanced down. “Key?”

  “There’s one under the mat,” I said, not bothering to whisper. After this, I’d never hide a key outside my place ever again.

  I knew the kinds of things that could happen now.

  He placed me down, and I favored the leg without the stitches. It didn’t hurt terribly, but I knew once the good pain meds they’d given me before I left wore off, it would be worse.

  Der
ek opened the door and gestured for me to go ahead.

  The familiarity of the place hit me instantaneously. More tears pricked the backs of my eyes when I took in the cream-colored walls, colorful artwork mostly dedicated to coffee, and brown leather couch with too many pillows.

  The lamp beside the sofa was still on from before I left the last time. I always left a light on for myself when I knew I’d be coming in late. I just hadn’t even slightest idea I’d be this late.

  I went and clicked it off. Then I looked behind me toward the kitchen where there were still a few dishes in the sink and my coffee mug collection was neatly displayed on open shelving above the black granite counter.

  “Nice place,” Derek said, standing near the door.

  It was nice. Simple, but I liked simple.

  “Bedrooms and bathroom are down the hall.” I gestured, pointing in the other direction. The floors were laminate made to look like hardwood, but I had a large patterned area rug in muted tones covering a lot of the living room.

  I should have given him a tour, not that there was much to see. It was just a two-bedroom apartment. But it would be polite, wouldn’t it?

  Problem was I was suddenly exhausted, and the quiet of my home seemed to make my thoughts even louder.

  “You okay?” Derek asked, concern evident in his words.

  “Yeah.” I paused. “I just… I thought I’d never see this place again.” I sniffled.

  Dammit.

  If Derek hesitated near the door before, my words broke that reluctance. He crushed the distance between us with just a few strides. I found myself swept against him, in the protective circle of his arms.

  I was safe with him.

  Yeah, the fact that he’d saved my life (technically, more than once) contributed to that feeling. But it wasn’t just that. Beneath the strong exterior, deep intense stare, and willingness to kill was a gentleness I didn’t often see in people.

  Or perhaps it was his compassion I felt. Whatever it was resounded with me in ways I’d never felt before.

  “Everything’s okay now,” he whispered. “You’re safe.”

  Everything was okay because I was in his arms.

  I pulled back and gazed into his dark eyes. “Will you stay?”

  “Of course I will, fairy.” His voice was soothing, and his fingers moved to brush all the hair off my cheeks. As he stroked, his thumb brushed away what was left of my tears.

  “No more crying,” he murmured, bending to gently kiss my cheeks. “I don’t like to see you cry.”

  Just knowing he wouldn’t be walking out the door in the next few moments made me feel better. I exhaled deeply and said, “I need a shower. A hot one.”

  “Go on.” He released me. “I’ll be right here.”

  I took two steps and turned before retreating down the hall. “I have an extra towel if you wanna shower, too.”

  Desire flashed in his gaze. The air practically sizzled with his reaction. “You need some time,” he murmured, shaking his head and stepping toward the sofa.

  “I have time,” I said. “I want to spend it with you.”

  He straightened. “I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret when you aren’t feeling so vulnerable.”

  I wanted to argue I wasn’t vulnerable. But that would be immature. I was vulnerable, even if I did feel strong. But it wasn’t because of him. I wasn’t going to regret this.

  We were all vulnerable in one way or another.

  Mostly, we were vulnerable to time.

  Just like inside a cab, our meters were running…

  They could stop at any second, and the fee wasn’t paid in dollar bills.

  It was paid with life.

  “I know what I want,” I told him boldly. “I wanted this before we were ever kidnapped.”

  “I’ve wanted you from the second I heard you laugh. Even before I caught sight of you.”

  “Take me, then.” I challenged.

  His eyes flared.

  I turned and disappeared down the hall. Beside the bathroom was the linen closet, I reached in and pulled out two oversized white, fluffy towels. The scent of laundry detergent and dryer sheets teased my senses, and I breathed deep.

  Derek appeared behind me, his hand curling around my hip. He drew me against his body, thrusting his hips against my ass.

  He was hard. Unbendingly stiff.

  I arched against his cock and purred like a cat.

  The bite of his fingers against my hip was delicious, and I looked up, need already hammering in my veins.

  Derek swooped over my shoulder and claimed my mouth. I felt like he slapped a giant I am here sign across my lips the way he took them.

  He was undeniable. Insatiable. Utterly lickable.

  With a groan, I dumped the towels at my feet and spun. He pinned me against the doorjamb of the closet, and I dragged my hands up his chest to grab handfuls of his shirt.

  My knees went weak, but it didn’t matter. He pinned me so tightly with his body there was no way I would fall. I surrendered to his heat and gave him the best I had.

  When he rocked his dick against me, I bit down on his lower lip and he moaned.

  After another deep, long kiss, I pushed him back. His eyes were unfocused, and my chest was heaving.

  “Shower first,” I said, breathless.

  He moved back so I could go ahead of him in the bathroom. As I went I let, my fingers trail across his jutting cock and enjoyed the way he sucked in a breath.

  In the bathroom, I flipped on the overhead light but left off the ones above the mirror. I liked it a little dim in here. Once the spray was on and warming, I turned back and locked eyes with him.

  He was in the doorway, looking a little like danger, but not the kind of danger you ran from. The kind you asked for.

  Holding his stare, I grasped the hem of my shirt and stripped it off over my head. I wasn’t wearing a bra. The cool air brushed over my newly exposed skin, and I felt my nipples pinch into hard buds.

  Derek’s eyes glittered like black diamonds, and wetness coated my panties.

  “Take it off,” Derek ordered, his voice rough.

  I slid off the scrub bottoms, letting the lace panties go with them.

  I wasn’t embarrassed with him; I didn’t feel awkward or insecure. There was no way I could feel anything less than confident when he stared at me the way he did.

  And also because he was so hard his dick stuck out from his body, pointing at me with absolute certainty.

  Derek ignited a primal urge in me. Something I didn’t even know I was capable of. I had always been a passionate person, so passionate I built a business out of an old beat up Vanagon.

  But this was a different kind of passion. It felt basic, like a fundamental instinct that had only just awakened.

  By him and him alone.

  The rush was incredible. It tingled through me, making my fingertips itch with the urge to explore his body.

  I stood before him, completely naked, letting him boldly stare at my curves. At his sides his fingers flexed, my skin yearned for his touch.

  “Your turn,” I said, and motioned for his clothes.

  Just the mere act of watching him peel away layer by layer of fabric to reveal sharply cut skin, sinewy muscle, and lean, long legs made my mouth run dry.

  Between my legs my pulse literally hammered. I was soaked, so saturated with want silky desire coated my inner thighs.

  I shivered lightly the second I allowed my eyes to take in his manhood. The skin was so taut across the muscle, I almost moaned because I knew the way it would feel when he finally entered my body. His hardness would stretch me, penetrate me, and I would likely pant.

  But first I wanted to taste him. I wanted to lick my tongue across that silky skin and swirl it around his head.

  “You keep looking at me like that, I’m gonna come right here.” He warned.

  I smiled, stepped around the curtain, and disappeared.

  The water felt so good cascad
ing over my skin I moaned. The curtain was ripped back, and I glanced over. Dark eyes glittered as he took in the way the droplets dripped over my body and slicked my limbs.

  He crowded me as he stepped in. I used it as an excuse to rub my breasts against his chest. My nipples were sensitive, almost aching. I never realized how large his hands were until he wrapped them both over my flesh.

  Even as I pushed closer against his palms, his hands moved, grabbed my hips, and lifted me off the shower floor.

  “You’re a water hog,” he told me, moving so his back was against the spray and I was completely out of it.

  Ignoring the way my beat-up hands burned and stung beneath the water, I poured too much body wash on a loofah and worked it until it was covered in suds. “I’ll wash you if you wash me.”

  “You got yourself a deal, sweetheart.” He agreed, his voice lazy.

  When he reached for the loofah, I pulled it back. “You first,” I whispered, and then I put my hands on him.

  I loved the way suds slid over skin, the way his body looked beneath my touch. There was a lot of restrained power there. I felt it hum beneath my fingertips.

  I washed his chest, his shoulders, and down his arms. When I dragged across his abs, his nipples tightened, and I went just a little lower into the short, neat curls just above his cock.

  I played in them, stroking my fingers through the damp strands. His hips thrust out, and I was tempted, so very tempted, to wrap my hand around his dick and pump.

  But I held off. I wanted to make him crazy the way I was beginning to feel. When I was almost unable to hold back, I guided him around so I could wash his back.

  He turned, pressed both palms flat against the wall, and offered me his body.

  My breath caught.

  “You have a tattoo?”

  His back muscles flexed, giving the design life.

  It was a simple black ink design. A mark of a doctor, but a mark of more.

  I abandoned the soap and lifted on finger to trace over the line.

  It was an EKG. You know the line on a machine that measures the beat of one’s heart? It rose and fell with perfect symphony, stretching across his back from shoulder blade to shoulder blade. On the left side at the end the line curved into the outline of a heart. On the right, the EKG measurements flowed right into a word written in script, making it look like it was part of the line.