"Derek?" Her heart pounded. She followed the trail of blood, through the living room, down the hall. It led to a closed door. She grabbed the knob. Locked.
She heard a noise on the other side. "Derek?" she yelled. Again no answer.
Not thinking, driven by raw panic, she took a couple of steps back and rammed the door with her shoulder. Part of the door ripped off with the hinges; the other part splintered into two or three pieces and crashed on the bathroom floor. She crashed on top of it. Facedown.
That's when she realized the noise she'd heard behind the closed door had been the shower. That's when she saw a very naked and very wet Derek yank back the shower curtain.
His body was hard, corded with muscle. Defensiveness glinted in his eyes and his posture. He looked prepared to take on an intruder. Which would be her, by the way.
He stared at her sprawled on top of the splintered piece of his bathroom door. She stared at him ... naked with the shower curtain still clutched in his fist.
"Uh, I ... I saw blood and thought..." What had she thought? Rogue vampire, ax murderer, serial killer on the loose. She hadn't put a villain in her fears. Her concern had just been for Derek's safety.
"You knocked the door down." Disbelief rang in his matter-of-fact tone.
"I know," she answered, unable to say anything else. Unable to look away from his body.
"But it's solid oak."
"I know." She felt the solid oak beneath her and was a little shocked that she'd done it, too. If it mattered at all, her shoulder felt a little bruised. And it was the slight pain that brought some reality back into the moment.
"You don't have any clothes on." Oh, God, did she really say that?
"I know. I usually shower that way."
Her face began to burn.
When he didn't seem to worry about his lack of clothes, Kylie decided that maybe it was her place to worry. After all, she had been the one to storm into his bathroom and break down his door while he'd been showering.
She turned her back on him. A totally useless, unproductive move. It didn't stop her from seeing him. The mirror hung over the low counter, which she now faced, offered her the same view.
A really awesome view, too. She'd seen naked men in the movies.
Well, almost naked. And she'd seen naked statues. Beautifully posed, carved-in-stone statues that left nothing to the imagination. In person was definitely better. Oh, goodness, he looked good wet and without his clothes on.
Then she realized that while she'd been enjoying the view, he'd been watching her enjoying it. His gaze from the mirror locked with hers. That rush of blood returned to her face. She glanced away from his reflection in the mirror to her shoes just as he grabbed for a towel.
That's when she decided to explain again. "I ... I saw blood and I panicked."
"Yeah," he answered. "Chris gave me a bloody nose when he elbowed me in the face playing basketball."
She looked up to the mirror to check out his face. "How bad was it?"
"Just a bloody nose." Holding the towel around his waist, he reached for his jeans on the floor, and then he met her gaze back in the mirror.
"I'm gonna put on some pants. So you might want to look down again."
She did, and she blushed again, too. Only when she heard the zipper did she look up. He stood closer, right over her in fact, holding out his hand to help her up. She took it.
"Are you okay?" he asked as soon as she came to her feet. She rubbed her shoulder. "Just a little bruised."
"I would imagine."
She saw him look back at the door. "I'll tell Holiday I did it," she said. "It's okay." He picked up a piece of the wood and tried to bend it. When it didn't move, he looked back at her. Then he reached out and touched her arm and his touch shifted slowly up to her elbow.
His touch felt warm and moist, much like the air in the bathroom.
Tingles climbed up her arm and filled her chest. Her gaze went to his broad shoulders and she wanted to kiss him there, in the place where she had rested her head so often.
"You're still warm," he said. "Normally, a vampire doesn't gain strength until after they've turned."
Disappointment shattered the mood. His reason for touching her had been to check her body temperature, not because ... because he just felt compelled to do it, the way she felt compelled to touch him.
"I think that's the problem," she said. "I'm not normal." She bit down on her lip and then decided to just tell him. "Holiday said ... she said some female werewolves have"-she glanced down at her breasts-"growth spurts around this age."
"So she thinks you're werewolf?" he asked.
"No, not really. She said that ... nothing else seems to point to werewolf.
So we're back at square one."
"Sorry," he said. "I know you want to figure it out." He ran a hand up her elbow again, and this time she knew it wasn't to check for temperature.
The tingles and mood came back.
Letting go of a deep sigh, she met his beautiful green eyes. "That's why I came here."
"What's why you came here?" he asked. He moved out of the bathroom and to the first door on the right. She followed him and stopped when she realized it was his bedroom. She watched him grab a shirt from his closet. He held it to his flat stomach but didn't put it on. She had the craziest feeling that he'd left it off because he knew she enjoyed looking at him. He stepped closer to her. "Why did you come here?"
Focus. Focus. Quit thinking about his body. "To tell you I'm sorry. For being such a bitch this afternoon. I was ... confused. I mean, Trey ... He did me wrong and when you said what you did, I just jumped back to what Trey did. What he did really hurt me, and I think I just projected it all on to you."
He pulled her against him and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was hot, passionate, and she didn't want it to end. And when it did, he was the one who pulled away, not her. She was happy, however, to see his breath was as uneven as hers.
"The answer is yes." Derek's lips were moist and still so close to hers that she felt the words whisper across her cheek.
"I'm ... I'm not sure what the question is," Kylie said, thinking she'd missed something because she was drunk off his kisses.
"The last thing you asked me this afternoon was if I wanted sex. I want to make myself clear. I want you. I want you so badly that sometimes it's all I can think about. Some nights I wake up and I'm so..." He bit back his words and let go of another deep breath. "What I'm trying to say is while I want you really badly, the last thing I'd try to do is pressure you into doing something that doesn't feel right."
"It does feel right." She placed her hand on his chest. And oh my, did it feel right to touch his bare chest. The temptation to ask him to do it, to pull her over to the bed and teach her all about sex, was almost overpowering.
However, there was still something that held her back.
"Or at least mostly right." She pulled her hand from his bare skin. "I think I just need to figure out who I am first." She stared at his chest, afraid if she looked him in the eyes, she'd turned candy apple red again.
Unfortunately, he raised his hand and tilted her head back and forced her to look at him.
"I know who you are, Kylie. You're warm, funny, and beautiful. You are so good to everyone, everyone likes you. And you've got tons of spunk. I really like spunk."
"I mean what I am," she corrected, feeling his fingers brushing against her neck.
"What you are doesn't matter. Because what you are isn't going to change who you are." He dropped his hand from her chin. "And I'm not saying this to rush you to have sex. I just want you ... I wish you could see yourself through my eyes. I wish you could see how special you are. And I don't care what you turn out to be."
Tears prickled her eyes and she wrapped her arm around his naked torso and pressed her cheek against his warm wall of chest that smelled clean, soapy, and moist. "You're the one who's special," she whispered. "Nope," he answered, and chuckled. "If I was special I wouldn't be thinking about how I could change your mind about having sex right now. So let's get out of this room before I decide to tackle you on my bed."
She laughed and looked up into his eyes.
He smiled and ran his hand up under her shirt and to her bare back where he cupped his hand in the curve of her naked waist. "That whole breaking the door down was really a turn-on."
"And not the fact that you were naked?" Had she said that? Instantly, she wished the floor would swallow her up.
"Nope, it was definitely the door thing. Now if you'd been naked..." He let go of a deep gulp of air. "Okay, we'd better quit talking about this."
He pulled away from her, caught her hand, and tugged her out of his bedroom.
She let him lead her out into the living room. He eyed the couch and then looked back at her. His eyes looked heavy, sleepy, and hot.
"Almost as bad as the bed."
She grinned and he pulled her out onto the front porch. He slipped on his shirt, then dropped down and leaned against the cabin on the bloodfree end of the porch. Once settled, he looked up and patted the spot on the porch beside him. She lowered herself beside him, and scooted over so her arm was against his. Leaning her head on his shoulder, she said, "Thanks."
He shifted and lifted his hand around her shoulder and pulled her a tad closer. "You're welcome."
Neither of them said anything for several minutes. She just sat there, close and absorbing the feel of him beside her. Questions tumbled around her head like a pair of tennis shoes in the dryer. But embarrassment kept her from voicing them.
"Go ahead and ask it," he said, almost as though he was reading her thoughts.
She raised her head off his shoulder. "Ask what?"
"Whatever it is that's making you feel embarrassed and curious. I can read your emotions, remember?"
She frowned. "And I hate that, too. I don't want you reading me."
"But I can't help it. I don't know how to not read you." He chuckled and looked down at her. And just like all the other times they were together, the night had a fairy-tale feel about it. The stars twinkled like diamonds in the sky. The trees looked too full. The moon, less than a week from being full, gave off enough light that she could see his face. "I think you're going to have a bruise." She touched the side of his nose. He caught her hand in his and kissed the inside of her hand. "So, what is it that's making you embarrassed and curious?"
"I'm just..." If she didn't tell him now, he'd probably envision the worst. Then again, what she was curious about might be the worst. "Just ask me." He nudged her with his shoulder.
She hesitated and then just blurted it out. "I'm curious about how many girls you've been with. I know you're almost eighteen and..." Her words faltered. Kylie knew he wasn't a virgin, and not just because he'd said something that led her to believe it, but just how ... he kissed. His brow crinkled and she could tell he wished he hadn't pushed her to ask.
"Oh," he said.
"Oh?" she repeated. And now more than ever she wanted an answer.
"You made me ask, now you have to answer."
He hesitated. "A few."
"That's vague." She pulled her fingers from his.
He breathed in and then out. "Okay, four."
"That's more than a few."
"Sorry." He didn't deny that he'd been lying. "It just feels awkward talking about it with you."
"Yeah, it does," she said, realizing she didn't like knowing. Didn't like thinking about him being with someone else. "Sorry I asked."
"Don't be." He leaned back against the cabin wall and went back to listening to the night. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure." A nervous flutter tickled her stomach. But considering how personal her own question had been, she couldn't tell him no.
"If Lucas were still here, would you still be sitting next to me?"