“Explain,” I demand, shifting in my spot again and wishing we had brought chairs with us because this boulder is too jagged to sit on for long periods of time. I hadn’t anticipated this scouting adventure turning into a history lesson, but I’m not mad about it. This conversation is better than anything I could have planned for this alone time I created. Still, I shift again and can’t hold back a muttered complaint that Derek found the only flat spot on the rock.
Laughing, he pulls his hand free from mine—I am far more disappointed by this than I ought to be—then slides his arm around my back. His other arm snakes under my knees, and to my complete shock, he picks me up and settles me on his lap with perfect ease.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” I say, not really annoyed but feeling like I should protest anyway.
Derek’s hand tightens at my waist, pulling a gasp out of me from the intimate touch, and he smirks as he lets his eyes roam my flaming face. “You can’t tell me this isn’t more comfortable.”
“Is this necessary? I’m not a child, Supes.”
“No, you’re definitely not.” He drops his voice low and husky, sending a shiver through me. “Do you want me to explain or not?”
“Yes.” Grumbling, I lean into his chest. He’s big enough that I can rest my head on his shoulder and feel completely enclosed by his arms, and I hate how much I like it here. This is doing nothing to curb my interest in the man.
“Good. Try not to get too distracted by how hot you think I am.”
The only reason I’m not calling him out for that comment is because he chuckles when he says it, clearly not believing I would ever think he’s hot enough to be distracting. He knows there’s attraction, but he seems to have no idea just how many boxes he ticks. Boxes I didn’t realize I wanted ticked because dating has barely been on my mind for fifteen years.
Not only is Derek tall, strong, and ridiculously handsome, but he has the personality to match. A self-awareness and confidence that comes from acknowledging who he is and where his faults are. Okay, so he is at the mercy of maladaptive perfectionism, but in the grand scheme of things, he could have come out of his trauma way worse for wear.
He could have turned out like me, broken and hiding from the world.
“I make no promises,” I murmur, suddenly feeling sleepy now that I’m in a much more comfortable spot than sitting on a pointy rock. “Tell me your secrets, Superman.”
“Over Christmas break of my sophomore year of high school,” he says, “I told my dad I was spending the week with a friend, then I booked a bus ticket to California. I walked into the first agent’s office I found, told the guy I was there to make movies and wouldn’t take no for an answer, and I gave him the performance of my life because I knew I wouldn’t get another chance. By some miracle he saw something promising in me and agreed to get me an audition, and I never went back to Montana.”
I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t that. And when I try to sit up to look Derek in the face, he holds me down, keeping me against his chest like he’s afraid of what I might see. “You’re serious?” I ask, even though Derek isn’t the type to lie.
“Deadly,” he replies.
“You went to LA on your own at fifteen?”
“I was highly independent, courtesy of a father who was too damaged by his ex-wife to bother much with parenting.”
“And you never went back? But you were a minor. How did—”
“The agent who took me on called my dad and explained the situation, and he convinced my dad to fly out to California and sign over guardianship. I thought about applying for emancipation, but it was easier to focus on the job and not have to worry about all the legal stuff. Emilio—my agent—kept me out of trouble and was highly skilled at getting me jobs that benefited us both. Still is,” he adds, a bit gruffly.
“And did you end up talking to your mom?” I ask with some hesitation. He’s been telling me all of this so easily, but this is stuff that he’s kept to himself his entire life. I don’t want to push him too far.
Shrugging, Derek adjusts his hold on me. There’s no way he’s as comfortable as I am right now, but he doesn’t seem very inclined to letme go. “When she figured out where I was and showed up, I decided to give her a chance. Shewasmy mom.”
She’s also the reason he thinks he has to be perfect. “I’m guessing that didn’t go well,” I say.
He chuckles, one of his hands moving to my hair and running through the strands. It’s an intimate gesture and one I shouldn’t allow, but how am I supposed to shut him down right now? “I agreed to a dinner with her in a public place, and she apologized for the way she acted when I was a kid. Told me she wanted to fix things.
“It had been more than ten years since the day everything blew up, and it turns out my mom does not share my talent for acting.” A soft growl rumbles through his chest. “At that point, I was starting to get a lot of notice, and it was obvious that she was only there to get her hands on my fame and money. Luckily, I had some good lawyers on my side by then, so she had no way to take anything of mine. I told her that she could be in my life if she wanted, but she would have no say in my career. She didn’t like that.”
He’s talking about such a formative part of his life, and I really want to see his expression. He won’t like it, but I sit up anyway, slipping from his arms and moving so I’m straddling his lap and facing him. Sure enough, his eyebrows are low and his eyes are wary as he meets my gaze.
“That sucks, Derek. You were a kid, and your parents should have looked out for you.”
Nodding, he slides his hands from my waist to my hips, then down the outside of my thighs. His fingers are warm, but his touch makes me shiver as he runs them along my legs, down to my knees and back up again. “I made it through. I learned to take care of myself and am stronger for it.”
Based on how stressed Hunter was when I talked to him the other day, I’m not so sure Derek has independence on lockdown the way he thinks he does. Without his bodyguard and assistant, would Derek bethis confident? As much as I want to say something for Hunter’s sake, I’m far too distracted by the way Derek’s touching me. Sitting like this was a bad idea.
“Derek, maybe we…” My words trail off when his fingers momentarily slip under the hems of my shorts, leaving me breathless as his fingertips brush my skin. His featherlight touch sends electric shocks through my legs and up to my chest in a way that makes me wonder if I’ll survive this moment.
Oh, this was averybad idea.
