I blink, my heart pounding. "Derek... Are you okay?"
But he's not listening. His grip tightens, pulling me even closer until his face is inches from mine, his breath uneven, frantic.
"I don't know what's happening to me," he says, his voice shaking, almost pleading. "All I can think about is you. You're in my head, Skye. I can't stop thinking about you. I need you so much it hurts."
His words send a shiver down my spine. This isn't just Derek coming back to apologize. This is something else entirely. His eyes are too wild, his body too tense, like he's struggling to contain himself. To hold himself back from... I swallow. From what?
"I'm right here," I say, trying to stay calm, even though my heart is racing. "We'll figure this out, okay? Just... let's sit down, we can talk—"
But he's shaking his head, his grip tightening even more, his eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that feels wrong, suffocating.
"No," he whispers, his voice frantic. "I don't want to talk. I don't *need* to talk. I need you, Skye. I need you *now*."
I try to pull away, just slightly, but his hands don't budge. My heart is truly galloping in my chest right now.
"Derek, you're hurting me..."
His eyes flicker with something—guilt, maybe?—but it's fleeting. He loosens his grip, but only for a moment before pulling me into his arms, holding me tightly against his chest. I don't struggle. It feels like an eternity since he's held me. Or maybe that's because he's never held me quite like this before. Like there's a flood about to rip him away if he lets me go.
"I'm sorry," he mutters, his voice softer, but still trembling. "I didn't mean to. I just... I'm so scared. I can't lose you."
I stand there, pressed against him, his body hot like a furnace, my mind racing. This is off. This doesn't feel like Derek. But I wanted this, didn't I? I wanted him to come back. I wanted him to need me, to love me again. And now he's here, begging for me, holding onto me like I'm the only thing keeping him tethered to the world.
But why does it feel so wrong?I pull back, just enough to look up at him, my heart pounding in my chest, frantic like a messenger carrying some urgent news.
His eyes meet mine, and for a brief second, I see something behind them—something dark, something desperate. Something possessive.
"I love you," he whispers, his voice breaking. "I'll never let you go again."
"Derek, come on..."
I'm not sure what to reply to that. He owes me an apology, a big one, not to mention some explanation regarding Emily. How far did it go? How come he was so quick to call everything quits - or to let me do that, as it were?
I should at least tell him how much he hurt me, how heartbroken I was when he left the wedding group chat without posting a single word. He just slunk away into the night, ready to ghost not only me but pretty much his friends and family too.
But then he cups my cheek and I say nothing as his warm palm presses against my skin. He slides his hand along my jaw and gently tips my chin up.
"God, I'm so sorry, Skye. I want to punch myself."
It feels good to finally hear him say it, so good that a small smile steals onto my lips. I look up at him, give myself permission to fall into those twin pools of darkness, his eyes that trap me among the reflections of what little light there is in our hallway. Like tiny stars, those bright spots shimmer across his pupils, turning them into a universe upon themselves.
"Please forgive me." The tremor in his voice sends warm shivers up my body, making my toes curl against the cold linoleum.I don't say anything, but I dip my head into the tiniest nod. How could I not when he seems so vulnerable and lost?
"Please..." He leans in, his lips brushing mine. They're chapped, roughened by his breathless run through the night. I press mine against them instinctively, driven by the desire to take away his pain.
It was just like this the first night we got together. Except that Derek was more stoic at the time, of course. But I could feel his need for comfort even then, and, more than anything, I wanted to give it.I want to give it to him now.
Anything he wants.
He kisses me fiercely, his fingers curling around my lower jaw while his other arm wraps around me, pulling me so close that there's not a hair's breadth between us anymore. I can feel him pressing into me, his arousal and need more obvious than ever.
Despite my earlier reservations and that tiny niggling voice in the back of my head trying to point out everything that's wrong with this scenario, I eagerly respond to his kiss. Stubble scrapes against my lips as he tilts his head and brushes his mouth across mine. I want to capture those lips again, but they find my ear, grazing my skin as he whispers my name, his voice raw and low.
"Skye... I need you."
His words send a shiver down my spine. I tilt my head back, my pulse quickening as his lips trail down my neck, slow and deliberate, leaving a burning, liquid heat in their wake that oozes into the bloodstream my heart diligently pumps through my veins.
He tugs at the hem of my pajama top, too impatient for the buttons.I gasp, my breath catching in my throat, as his lips latch onto mine.
The kiss is hungry, almost violent, and I feel myself being pulled into it, into him, into the black hole of his desire. His mouth moves against mine with an intensity that's both thrilling and terrifying.
It's like he can't get enough, like he's devouring me, and for a moment, I lose myself in the sensation—the heat of his body pressed against mine, the urgency of his touch, the way he kisses me like he's starving.
I kiss him back, my hands gripping his shoulders, pulling him closer. My mind is racing, but my body is moving on its own, responding to him, wanting him, even though, deep down, I know something isn't quite right.
The Derek I knew was never like this—never this desperate, this needy, even in his most vulnerable states. But I push the thought away, losing myself in the moment, in the feel of his hands on my skin, his lips on mine.He pushes me back toward the couch, his body pressing into me as we fall onto the cushions. His weight is heavy, grounding, but there's a frantic energy in the way he moves, like he's afraid time is slipping away.
He pins me beneath him, his eyes dark and burning as they meet mine.
"I love you," he says, his voice low and breathless, "I love you, Skye."
I should say something—something rational, something that pulls both of us back to reality—but the barbed words catch in my throat as he kisses me again, harder this time, and now he's pulling more insistently on my pajama top, ripping it off, making the buttons fly in all directions.
I gasp in shock, but before I can protest or react in any way at all, he buries his face in my bare chest.
"Derek," I breathe, my voice shaky, caught between desire and apprehension.
But he is kissing my sensitive skin, licking a broad swathe of wetness up between my breasts, his body pressing me deeper into the cushions, and all I can feel is him—his hands, his mouth, the heat radiating off him in waves.
It's intoxicating, overwhelming; there is nothing I can do to resist it, not when I've dreamed of being wanted this much.
Shit, I want to live in this moment forever, cast in in amber and trap us in it until the sun burns out.
My pulse is thrumming in my ears, the haze of lust descending like a veil between us and the rest of the world.
I know there is no way back now.
And if there was, I wouldn't want it.