Derek's physique was a world apart from those gym-sculpted bodies, and the scars he bore added a touch of primal intensity.
Before Tabitha knew it, he was right in front of her, his hands braced on either side of her.
She was seated, and he stood, slightly bent, his shadow enveloping her.
"What're you lookin' at?" he asked.
Tabitha averted her gaze like a caught kid.
If Derek knew her thoughts, he'd surely tease her endlessly.
"Uh, nothing," she said.
Derek inched closer, trapping her in his space.
The water droplets on his skin glistened in the firelight.
Sensing her fluster, he let out a low, magnetic chuckle.
Then, in a husky whisper by her ear, he said, "I'm yours and yours alone. You can look and touch anytime you like."
Recalling her past boldness, he guided her hand to his abdomen. "Remember how you used to love this?"
Tabitha's face flushed crimson. In the early days of their marriage, she'd been more uninhibited.
After all, there was nothing to hide from her husband.
"Uh, I..." she stammered.
"You can touch it," Derek said softly but firmly.
Her face burned brighter. Derek gently pinched her chin and said, "Tabitha, I know you care about me. You don't really hate me, do you?"
Tabitha shifted her gaze away, a hint of guilt in her eyes.
His calloused finger gently traced her lips. "Tell me, does it make you sick?" he asked.
Tabitha felt the mood shift. She backpedaled on the wood bed, but Derek had only made it four feet long.
Where could she go?
Soon her palms hit the edge of the bed.
She realized her harsh words yesterday had been just that—harsh and untrue.
Even when he was pretending to be Wilmot, she'd never truly found him repulsive.
"It was said in anger," she admitted, her confidence from yesterday gone.
Derek, wild and intense like a leopard, knelt on the bed and crawled toward her.
Soon she was swallowed by his shadow, her hands the only support.
His lips grazed her neck.
Tabitha was already looking up at him, which put her at a disadvantage.
"Does this make you sick? I'll stop if it does," he murmured.
He knew she wouldn't repeat those hurtful words.
Derek was a master at reading hearts and minds.
Like a delicate flower trembling in the rain, Tabitha felt his lips move up her neck, tender and intoxicating.
Her breath grew heavier, her chest heaving with anticipation.
His lips reached her hair, tugging out her hairpin with his teeth. Her hair cascaded down.
He loved her hair loose—it was lazily alluring.
The pin fell into his hand.
His lips brushed her ear. "You're the most beautiful like this," he said.
He trailed the cool pin along her collarbone and down, stopping at the button of her shirt.
In this game of forbidden urges, he asked, "Want me to continue?"
Last night, they had broken through the last barrier between them. Now, Derek was determined to gradually chip away at Tabitha's defenses and make her slowly accept him.
Their eyes met. Tabitha saw his desire and her own flushed face in his gaze.
He gave her the choice.
In the quiet cave, she heard her heartbeat and the crackling fire.
Outside, rain began to fall again, each drop a loud tap on the leaves.
As if seeping into her soul, Tabitha slowly reached out and touched Derek's chest for the first time since their fight.
Her bandaged palm left trails of heat on his skin.
Derek's heart raced, his body taut like a predator ready to pounce.
When her hand slowly reached his throat, he froze.
Like a butterfly perched on his shoulder, he didn't dare breathe, waiting for her response.
Finally, her hands climbed up to his shoulders. Her tongue darted out, grazing his earlobe.
Her voice was soft and seductive.
"Gently."
A storm raged outside, and Tabitha clung to Derek as if to weather it with him.
After what felt like an eternity, the rain subsided.
Tabitha nestled into Derek's embrace.