The last part—the tenderness woven through the filth—undid me completely.
“I’m close,” I gasped, my hips bucking into my fist.
“Me too. Look at me. Want to see those gorgeous eyes when you come.”
I met his gaze, let him see everything. The pleasure coiling tight in my spine. The wanting. The terrifying depth of what I felt for him.
“Come for me, snowdrop.” His voice cracked. “Show me how beautiful you are.”
I came with a cry, spilling over my fist and onto the hoodie—his hoodie—my whole body shuddering with the force of it. On the screen, Derek followed seconds later, groaning my name as he made a mess of his dress shirt.
We lay there for a moment, breathing hard, staring at each other through our screens.
“I’m going to need that hoodie back,” he said finally. “It’s my favourite.”
I laughed, surprised and genuine. “You have like 20 of them.”
“Yeah and that one is my favourite. Don’t wash it.”
“You’re depraved.”
“You started it.”
“I did.” I stretched lazily, letting him watch. “So how was drinks with the team?”
“Good. Petrov tried to teach us a Russian drinking game. Avery nearly threw up in a potted plant.” He grinned, loose and happy. “The usual.”
“Sounds civilized.”
“Very.” He shifted onto his side, the phone propped against a pillow so I could see his face properly. His hair was mussed, his cheeks still flushed. “How was Aspen today? Any crimes committed?”
“He stole a sock from your laundry basket and paraded it around the apartment like a trophy. I managed to negotiate its release in exchange for a dental chew.”
“A fair trade.” His eyes crinkled at the corners. “And you? What did you do with your day?”
I thought about Alice. About my parents’ divorce and the things I’d said out loud for the first time. About the exhaustion that had settled into my bones afterward—the particular heaviness that came from cracking yourself open in front of a stranger.
The old me would have deflected. Changed the subject. Offered something sharp and hollow to keep him at arm’s length.
“I had my first session with my new therapist,” I said instead. “It was… a lot.”
Derek’s expression shifted. Not pity—just attention. That steady focus he gave to everything that mattered.
“How are you feeling?” he asked softly.
“Tired. Wrung out.” I shrugged, aiming for casual and probably missing. “But okay, I think. It’s good. She’s good.”
“I’m glad.” He gave me a small smile. “Thank you for telling me.”
“I also watched another episode ofGame of Thrones,” I added, because the sincerity was starting to make me itchy. “And missed you.”
The last part slipped out before I could stop it. I waited for the familiar urge to take it back, to deflect with something sharp—but it didn’t come.
“Yeah?”
“Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Too late.” He was smiling now, that crooked grin that did things to my chest. “I missed you too, for what it’s worth. Notjust your body, either—your company. The hotel bed is too big without you hogging all the blankets.”
