by Kade Charest
Marty maintained the irritated look, brows still brought down, but now she focused her attention on Derrick, who suddenly looked relieved. He shouldn’t be, Taylor thought, I’m just winding up.
“What did you do?” Marty accused him, not wasting a second to blame it all on her brother.
“I didn’t—”
Marty flipped her attention back to Taylor, her face full of sympathy and concern, “What did he do?” she asked kindly, without even a drop of accusation directed at Taylor.
Oh, this was good, Taylor thought, as she saw Derrick silently going postal.
“He has been trying to drag me back out here for like ever,” Taylor told Marty as she began her tale. “So, first, he pretty much kidnapped me from home—”
Taylor was rewarded with exactly what she desired: Derrick’s head lit up like a brake light.
“Where is home?” Marty interrupted.
“East Coast,” Taylor said quickly, giving as little away as possible. She continued, “Then he tells me we are just going out, and instead he hijacks me onto a plane and brings me here. No clothes—not even my makeup!”
Marty gasped. Damn, that girl loved drama, and her makeup. She whipped her head back to Derrick, “You are an asshole!”
“But that isn’t the worst of it,” Taylor said, relishing the sympathy and the support she had against Derrick, and the way it was making him as angry as possible. “He then gets me on the plane, and gets me drunk on brandy, of all things—”
“Damn, Derrick. You couldn’t even get her champagne or a nice wine?” Marty interrupted, totally exasperated with her brother.
Taylor was now hoping Derrick was in good health, because he looked like he was going to have a stroke based on the color of his face.
Taylor went on, “And then I wake up here, in his bed, having no idea where I am. And he took my jeans off without my consent,” Taylor finished.
Marty gaped at her brother.
“Derrick Simon Allen Fletcher,” she whispered hoarsely, “what the fuck is wrong with you?”
Taylor smiled smugly at Derrick, crossing her arms in front of her and leaning a hip into the island. One for Team Taylor, zero for Team Derrick. “Yeah, thank goodness you got me the clothes,” Taylor said to her, tugging on the tunic she had dressed in after her shower. “I would have been a mess without it.”
“Oh my God, no problem! If I had known it was you, I totally would have gone all out. But he wouldn’t tell me anything,” Marty replied, jerking her thumb at her brother, who was taking slow deep breaths to calm himself. He looked just a shade lighter than the fire engine red he had been seconds before. But that changed when Marty spoke again.
She turned back to Derrick as a thought clearly flickered through her mind, “Hey, so is this why you got all over that photog last month?” she asks as if all the pieces fit now.
Okay, so red was bad, but the purple color now covering Derrick’s face was truly alarming.
“Time to go, Marty,” he said to his sister, speaking in even tones through his teeth.
“Oh my God. It all makes sense now—”
Derrick cut her off, grabbing her by the arm and towing her to the door.
“What photog?” Taylor asked, this had to be spectacular information the way Derrick was pulling his sister by the arm so hard her feet were practically off the ground. Marty’s toes danced on the floor like a ballerina across the stage, but she was totally unfazed.
“You didn’t hear?” she asked, wriggling away from Derrick, who tried to grab for her again, but she snaked out of his way, having years of practice under her belt.
“I don’t get into that stuff anymore,” Taylor said, a hint of sadness in her voice.
“Gotcha,” Marty said. “Well, a few weeks ago—”
“Marty, if you don’t leave, I will personally dispense that frat party picture of you to every tabloid on the planet,” Derrick said menacingly.
The threat stopped Marty in her tracks. She rolled her eyes, “You do one keg stand and forget a bra …” she muttered. “Fine, I’m going.” She went to hug Taylor, but instead grabbed her hand and jerked it to her face.
It took Taylor a second to gain her balance, and she wanted to ask what the heck Marty was doing. Then she realized Marty was gawking at the rock on her finger. It all made sense now—Taylor had forgotten all about the ring. Marty’s head almost spun off her neck as she started to look from the ring to Taylor then back to the ring and then to Derrick.
“Is this … are you …?”
Rendering Marty speechless twice in one night was an impressive feat for anyone. Taylor was honored.
Taylor looked at Derrick, and he motioned to her with his head. Right. I’m in charge. The ball is in my court. I’m taking the bull by the horns. Taylor repeated every other saying she could think of having to do with power. She needed to answer Marty.
“Yup,” Taylor confirmed, taking a deep breath, “we’re engaged.”
“Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod!” Marty said, jumping up and down, “When? Where?”
“Oh, we don’t have any real plans yet …”
“When did he propose?”
“Yesterday,” Taylor said. It just sort of came out. She had taken Derrick’s advice and not thought. She just answered, and it seemed to have worked.
“Wait, how long have you two been together?” Marty questioned, piecing things together.
“I don’t know …”
“Close to two years,” Derrick said.
“How the hell did you not tell me?” Marty exclaimed to Derrick.
Derrick rolled his eyes. “It wasn’t that hard, since we didn’t want it to be front page news.”
Marty glared and punched Derrick in the arm. “You are such a tool,” she said and turned back to Taylor. “But I am so happy for you,” she squealed, jumping up and down.
Taylor laughed at her reaction.
“Well, this is so, wow, just wow,” Marty said, misty-eyed. Suddenly she flung Taylor at Derrick, using the hand she had been hanging onto to check out the ring. Derrick had to reach out and grab Taylor by the waist so she didn’t bounce back to the floor as she hit him. “But first, you two have to hug. I don’t want you to fight and mess up your weekend together. You need to be all lovey-dovey and ready to plan on forever,” Marty informed them.
Derrick and Taylor looked at Marty, then at each other, and then they hugged. Taylor was still thinking about the photog thing, but she was hoping she could get it out of Derrick or Marty later. And she didn’t want Derrick to explode or kill Marty, so she decided to just be patient.
They were releasing each other when Marty barked out another order, “Now, Derrick, tell Taylor you are sorry.”
With his arms still around Taylor’s waist, Derrick leaned back and looked into her face. He said a very remorseful, “I am so sorry, Taylor. So sorry.” His tone was soft, and Taylor knew his apology was deeper than the pretend lovers quarrel she had pitched to his sister.
“Okay,” Taylor whispered to him. Did she forgive him? Nope, but it was polite to respond. And she had to say something because she was getting lost in Derrick’s eyes.
“Now kiss and make up.”
Taylor tore her eyes away from Derrick’s and looked over his shoulder at Marty like she had sprouted an extra head and it was spitting out wooden nickels.
Marty was unrelenting. “Kiss!” she demanded impatiently, flapping her arms in front of her, indicating they need to get closer.
“No, Marty, we don’t—”
“Come on, baby, I said I was sorry.”
Taylor turned back to see that humor had replaced the remorse on Derrick’s face. It looked like Team Derrick wouldn’t be scoreless for long. He leaned in and whispered against her lips, “Please don’t be mad.” Then he pressed his soft lips to hers.
Taylor gasped at the caress on her lips, and Derrick seized the opportunity to slide his tongue smoothly into her mouth. The feeling was like nothing Taylor had ever
felt. Her brain shut down, and she felt her knees go weak. She braced her arms on Derrick’s biceps, and then slid them up to his neck.
Reality reinstated itself as Marty clapped loudly.
The connection was broken as Taylor jerked back and looked at Derrick wide-eyed. He was staring at her. His eyes were not laughing, not angry, not apologetic; there was something else there. She couldn’t place it, but she had never seen him look at anyone that way before.
“Okay, that’s enough. I might vomit,” Marty remarked. “I’m out. Bye, Taylor. I am so glad to see you again. Call me for lunch if you stay in town.” Marty showed herself out. The noise of the descending elevator was the only sound in the room.
Neither Taylor nor Derrick acknowledged Marty’s departure. They just continued to look at each other. Derrick blinked a couple of time, shook his head, and then started to lean back. “Sorry, I—”
Taylor reached up and pulled Derrick’s head back down to hers, sealing their lips together again.
The last twenty-four hours had been, to put it mildly, a complete and total nightmare. Her mind was reeling and confused, and she was stressed out. But when he kissed her, when Derrick had put his lip to hers, Taylor was totally swept away, mindless, a blank slate. She wanted to see if it would happen again, because that was bliss. She wanted nothing more than a reprieve from all the responsibilities she had ahead of her, and the kiss was like nothing she had ever felt. Taylor loved a good experiment, especially if it felt like this.
And her hypothesis was correct: she went all wiped clean again.
Derrick was shocked at first, and then he just dove in.
He usually found that if it was too good to be true, it was best to enjoy the ride as long as possible. He was going to do just that. He could not believe that she had let him kiss her in the first place. He had meant to only give her a peck, wipe that cocky attitude off her face, and punish her a little for having pitted his sister against him. But then he just pushed his luck, deepened the kiss, and it had totally worked out for him.
And for her too, it seemed.
Derrick tightened his arms around Taylor’s waist and heard her moan. She pushed her hips into his, and he just about lost his mind. The feel of Taylor’s body so close was absolutely unraveling his senses; they felt like they were on overload. He heard every purr, whisper, and moan from her, felt every small movement. He relished the heat on her skin and the taste of mint in her mouth. It was all too much, but he would try to drink it all in, let himself get drunk on it.
Derrick slipped his hands to her hips and then continued sliding a palm down the outside of her thigh. He repeated the movement with his other hand. He moved slowly, giving her ample opportunity to stop him. He couldn’t comprehend what had changed. She had been so pissed at him, but he didn’t argue or stop. Keep moving, Fletcher, the little devil inside told him, holding his angelic conscience in a choke hold.
When he reached the back of her thighs, Derrick lifted Taylor up. She went so easily that he couldn’t believe it, but he didn’t waste time thinking about it. Instead, he set her on the waist-high counter of his kitchen island and stepped effortlessly between her legs. He moved in as close as he could get to her, to her core. He let a groan roll into her mouth as his denim-covered erection pressed up against her. She gasped but didn’t stop him. The only thing separating his erection from her core was his jeans and her leggings. Derrick was perilously close to losing his mind.
In order not to rush things and rip apart the barriers, Derrick slid his hands back up her sides, never breaking the kiss. She was right there with him, her hands still wound around his neck, and she softly returned his kiss. It was slow and patient, and Derrick desperately wanted to go deeper, to do more, but he didn’t know how she would react, so he kept up with the slow torture of their kiss.
When his hands made it to her neck, he left his palms there and threaded his fingers into her hair. Feeling the impossibly soft golden silk in his fingers, he wrapped them into it. He opened his eyes, and saw her eyes closed and her face relaxed; there was no trace of tension or stress.
Derrick couldn’t stand it anymore. He slowly deepened the kiss and pushed a little harder. He kept his tongue with hers, rubbing, stroking hers little by little, until he felt buried in her mouth. And that made him think of being buried elsewhere in her.
“Taylor,” he whispered against her mouth. She cut him off, by resuming the kiss.
Derrick slid a hand down her body and pulled her hips to the edge of the counter, pressing her harder against him. Her moan told him how she felt, and he kept kissing her. If she wasn’t stopping him, he read that as a green light.
It was at that moment that Derrick hated his stupidity in choosing a ring tone that sounded like a screeching siren to alert him that Todd was calling.
He heard it in the distance. Their kiss slowed slightly, and then there was silence. But when it went off again, it seemed louder than ever, sending them jolting apart, and apparently waking up Taylor.
Taylor was breathing heavily. Her eyes went from shadowed with desire to wide and panicked. She looked around like she was completely bewildered by where she was and what was happening. She gaped at Derrick. Then she looked down and saw him in between her legs; it was as if all that had happened was just now coming to her, and she realized what they had been seriously close to doing.
“Oh my God,” she whispered, pushing Derrick back and jumping down from the counter, which brought her right up against his body and something large, and hard, and straining against the front of his jeans.
Taylor looked down again in shock. She went to turn away, and her hip struck Derrick right in his groin. He pitched forward in pain, striking his head on the granite counter.
“Ow, fuck!” he shouted.
“I’m sorry,” Taylor said quickly, making a beeline for the living room area. Derrick picked up his phone. “What!” he shouted instead of the generic hello.
“Going so well, Derrick?” Todd asked, tauntingly, “Perhaps you should have let us bring her home.”
“What is it, Todd?” Derrick asked, seeing Taylor stiffen at the name. This guy had always rubbed her the wrong way, and it was worse now that he was associated with all her new fears. Shuffling from the kitchen into his study, Derrick was hoping to spare her from any further trauma as he talked to him.
“Look, before you two set sail on your romantic cruise,” Todd said, voice drenched with sarcasm, “Charlie and I have the immediate list for Taylor to go over.”
“Where are you?”
“We will be pulling in—” the buzzer to Derek’s private garage buzzed in the apartment, “now.”
Derrick hung up on him and strode to the wall in the foyer to hit the buzzer to allow Todd and Charlie to pull in. He turned to find Taylor pacing back and forth across the living room.
“Tay—”
She looked up at Derrick, still wide-eyed and very nervous.
“Tay, we didn’t do anything—”
“We shouldn’t have done that. That was crazy. We should never do that again.”
Derrick wanted to argue with her that it was amazing, and she had actually been the one to pull him back in, twice, but he decided that was not going to do him any favors.
“You are in charge, Taylor. Remember? You make the calls for you. You are in charge.”
Taylor looked away and nodded at the ground.
“Todd and Charlie are coming up, they want to go over the Preston needs list with you.”
Taylor looked sick at that information.
“If you want, you can go to the bathroom, or upstairs, and I can stall them to give you a minute.”
Taylor took in what he said, glanced up the stairs, and then looked toward the entryway again.
“You are in charge, Taylor. You’re going to do this your way, remember?”
Taylor looked at him and started nodding. She set her shoulders back, and her features transformed from terrified to confident.
&
nbsp; “No, I don’t need to pull myself together,” she told Derrick. “I’m hungry. They can talk to me in the kitchen while I eat.” With that, Taylor stalked into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and pulled out food at random as if she had done it a million times before.
The door buzzed. Taylor made no motion to move away from her food.
“Well, I guess I will just go get that,” Derrick commented and walked to the entryway.
He opened the door. The two men before him looked like crap.
“Rough night?” Derrick asked sweetly.
“Where is she?” Todd asked gruffly.
Derrick raised his brows and motioned them down the corridor toward the kitchen.
Derrick followed them down the hall, eager to see what would transpire. When they arrived in the kitchen, Taylor was happily enjoying a large sandwich.
“Well, boys, what have you got to show me?” Taylor questioned and then went on the attack of her sub.
Chapter Six
Taylor almost laughed out loud at the way Charlie and Todd took her in, but who could blame them. They really didn’t know what to expect with her, and quite frankly she wasn’t sure herself. But when Derrick had reminded her she was in charge and that she could do it her way, Taylor realized her way was not going to be nervous and scared and paralyzed by the fear. She was in charge, and she was in control, so she needed to act like it and it would all come together.
Charlie brought forward a folder, “This one is the top priority, Taylor. This is a penthouse suite in our Miami Hotel.” He opened the folder and showed her a picture of a hotel room.
Taylor nearly choked on her sub. “I’ll say it’s a priority,” she said with her mouth full. “Look at the décor! That is hideous!”
Charlie and Todd took her in as if she were insane.
“This looks like the suite in Pretty Woman.”
They continue to look at her in utter confusion.
Taylor became incensed. “It’s outdated!”
