The heat was the first warning, a searing embrace that mirrored the burning shame of memories I'd long fought to extinguish. I tried to twist away, to break free from the suffocating weight, only to find an arm holding me down, a chilling echo of the past, of Josh's possessive hold, of the moment my body felt like it was no longer my own. Panic clawed at my throat, my lungs constricting, desperate for air, for escape. But as I gasped, a different scent filled my senses, a gentle, calming aroma that didn't reek of fear and violation. It was Derick. The realization struck me with the force of a physical blow, but this time, it was a blow of relief. I wasn't there. I wasn't with him. I was here, in this room, held by Derick, my fated mate, the one who saw me, the one who cherished me. I let myself sink into his embrace, breathing in his calming presence, the scent a profound affirmation that I was safe, I was loved, and I was finally, blessedly, okay.
I shifted to face Derick, his sleeping profile breathtakingly handsome. My fingers instinctively reached up to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead. He stirred, a soft murmur escaping his lips, and tightened his hold, drawing me even closer. A blush crept up my neck as I became acutely aware of the undeniable pressure of his erection against my stomach. The realization hit me – we were still very much naked.
A soft groan vibrated through his chest, a sound that sent a tremor through me. My breath hitched as his arm shifted, his hand finding my hip, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles against my skin. The warmth of his body pressed against mine was a comforting anchor, a stark contrast to the icy grip of fear that had held me moments before. I closed my eyes, savoring the intimacy of the moment, letting the tenderness of his touch wash over me, erasing the last vestiges of that old, chilling dread.
He inhaled deeply, his lips brushing against my temple, and I felt a small smile tug at my own lips. The memory of last night was a hazy, beautiful kaleidoscope – the shared laughter, the hushed confessions, the way his eyes had held mine, promising something more. The weight of his presence was no longer a source of panic, but a promise of protection, of shared warmth, of a future I was beginning to dare to believe in.
Derick's eyelids fluttered open, and I met his gaze as his eyes slowly opened. The lingering sleepiness in them was quickly replaced by a soft warmth as he looked at me, a tender smile gracing his lips. "Morning," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that resonated deep within me. He tightened his embrace, pulling me impossibly closer, as if afraid I might vanish.
"Morning," I murmured, my cheeks instantly warming. Derick's grin was predatory as he drew closer, his kiss a soft, breath-stealing jolt. The heat coiled low in my belly once more, a potent reminder of how little self-control I possessed around him.
Derick, sensing my own quickening desire, gently lifted my leg, drawing it around his waist. His erection nestled against my slick entrance as he deepened the kiss, a low growl vibrating against my lips. The tip began to glide past my yielding folds.
"BANG! BANG! BANG!" The thunderous blows slammed against the hotel room door, ripping through the hushed intimacy. Matt's voice, a boisterous, uninvited intrusion, boomed, "Hey, rise and shine! We gotta hit the road pronto, your parents are dying to meet Cassy." Beside me, Derick let out a pained groan, a sound that mirrored the mortification blooming in my chest. The abrupt disruption sent a jolt of pure embarrassment through me, and I scrambled off the bed, feeling exposed and utterly flustered. "I... I just need to get dressed," I stammered, my voice catching on a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. The urgency to escape, to hide the evidence of our interrupted moment, propelled me towards the bathroom. The click of the lock was a small victory, a fragile barrier against the sudden, overwhelming wave of embarrassment.
I leaned against the cool porcelain of the sink, my breath coming in shaky bursts. My reflection stared back, a flushed stranger with wide, disbelieving green eyes. Then, my gaze dropped, and my stomach did a nervous flip. The remnants of last night's passion were starkly visible – a constellation of purple and red marks blooming across my neck and collarbones. Hickeys. So many hickeys. A faint blush, deeper than the one already painting my cheeks, crept up my neck as I remembered the raw, uninhibited joy that had led to them. For a fleeting moment, I imagined Derick's satisfied groan as he'd left his mark, a possessive claim that, despite my initial shock, now sent a curious flutter through me.
Pulling on the clothes I'd haphazardly discarded the night before felt like a costume change, a hasty retreat back into my shy, reserved self. Each movement was a reminder of the exhilarating vulnerability I'd shared with Derick, the way my body had responded to his touch with an eagerness that still surprised me.
Emerging from the bathroom, I found Derick and Matt already dressed, their faces turned towards me with a mixture of patience and amusement. Derick's gaze softened as he took me in, and a slow smile spread across his handsome face, a silent acknowledgement of our shared moment. "Ready?" Matt boomed, his usual boisterous energy undimmed. I managed a nod, a weak smile, and a quiet, "Sure." The prospect of meeting his parents was still terrifying, a knot of anxiety in my chest, but as I met Derick's steady gaze, a flicker of courage ignited. He was my anchor, my protector, and I knew with him beside me I could do anything.
It was a daunting thought, meeting his parents, the King and Queen, especially after this. Four hours. Four hours until I stood before them, a bundle of nerves, with the lingering heat of Derick's kisses still on my skin. But then I remembered the way Derick had looked at me, the tenderness in his eyes, and a fragile sense of optimism began to bloom. He hadn't pushed me away, hadn't recoiled. Instead, he'd held me closer, a silent reassurance that I was safe, that I was wanted.
Derick took my hand and guided me to the car. Matt tossed in their suitcases, followed by a small, unfamiliar green one. I tilted my head up to Derick with a questioning look, but he just smiled. "We got you a suitcase," he explained, "and put all the things we bought yesterday inside." Then, he reached into his back pocket and produced my new phone. I'd completely forgotten I even had one. "And I kept this out for you," he added, "in case you wanted to hold onto it."
With a grateful smile, I took it from his hands. "Thanks, Derick, I really appreciate it." I then rose on my tiptoes for a quick peck on his cheek before hurrying to the car and hopping into the back. Derick was quick to join me.
The car pulled away from the hotel, the familiar rumble of the engine a steady rhythm against the nervous flutter in my stomach. Matt was already regaling us with tales of his mate, his voice a cheerful distraction, but my gaze kept drifting to Derick. He glanced over, his eyes meeting mine, and offered a small, reassuring smile. It was a tiny gesture, but it was enough to anchor me, to remind me that he was here, that he was my shield against the daunting prospect of meeting his parents.
As the city gave way to rolling countryside, a quiet settled over us. Derick's parents' estate was, I imagined, going to be grand, imposing, a world away from the hotel room where our night had begun so intimately and ended so abruptly. I found myself tracing the outline of one of the hickeys on my collarbone, a faint ghost of pleasure and embarrassment coiling within me. The new suitcase, a vibrant green symbol of my fresh start, sat beside me, packed with clothes I'd chosen not out of necessity, but out of a tentative desire to present a version of myself that felt a little more… me.
Derick's hand found mine, his fingers lacing through mine with a gentle pressure that sent a jolt of warmth through my arm. He didn't speak, but his touch was a conversation all its own, a silent promise of solidarity, of unwavering support. I squeezed his hand, a silent thank you, and turned my attention back to the passing scenery. The fear was still there, a low hum beneath the surface, but it was no longer the dominant melody. It was being drowned out by the soaring notes of anticipation, of the thrilling possibility that this, this meeting, this new life, might actually be wonderful.