When a fresh shiver bolted up his spine, he knew it was for no other reason than in anticipation of even once feeling her wrap herself tightly around him. There was a simple pleasure in the way she said her name, and it only grew as he started to revel that she was in his arms, found himself glad, pleased, that he was in hers. Though the unease of moments earlier had passed, Derek still had no answers for what had happened between them, or why; he didn't know if there would be another kiss, or if there would be more. He couldn't say if the night would go on, and if it would be the last. Derek didn't know any of that, but he wasn't bothered. The long-term had never been a goal of his, but he had never been open to possibilities. He chose to see this chance encounter as a gift of the new year, and all, whatever, it would bring him, if he only could open himself up a little bit more.
He let Scarlett move in on him again, and let his hands run where they pleased on her — from up and down the length of her back, to slight patterns and strokes on her sides. He enjoyed the tension of wanting her lips on his, and not having them, and the feeling of warmth spreading within him, from being so twisted up with her in the moment. He realised it would gratify him to tell her his name, in all honesty. It was something he wished for her to know, to use.
"Derek," he told Scarlett, and was struck by the sudden sensation that he'd like to hear her say it in his ear, quiet and breathless. Or perhaps long and lowly, and ripe with longing. Found himself suddenly, and abruptly, wondering if he could make her scream it. "Derek," he said again, huskier than he'd intended, "and I've got to kiss you once again."
Then proved, as ever, he was a man of his word.
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