CHAPTER 23–The Heat Between Them
The moment the commotion settled in the gala hall, Derek didn't let go of her wrist.
His grip wasn't harsh—but it was firm. Deliberate. As though releasing her would invite danger right back in.
Eva's pulse hammered as he guided her through a side corridor, away from crowds and noise, into a quieter wing lit by soft golden sconces. His strides were long, purposeful, charged with something she couldn't name.
"Derek," she whispered, breathless. "Where are we going?"
He didn't answer.
Not until they turned into an empty alcove, hidden between two marble pillars. A quiet pocket of shadow.
Only then did he release a slow breath, turning toward her—close enough that she felt the heat from his body.
"I needed a moment," he murmured.
"A moment for what?" Her voice came out softer than intended.
His gaze swept her face, slow and consuming.
"For you."
Her breath faltered.
"Me?"
"Yes." His thumb brushed her jaw—just a graze, a ghost of a touch, but her entire body flared alive. "You don't know what you do to me, Eva."
Her lips parted, but before she could speak, Derek's hand slid from her jaw to the back of her neck—fingers threading through her hair. The movement was gentle but commanding. His body angled closer, not quite touching her, but close enough to make her knees tremble.
"Derek…"
She wasn't sure if it was a warning or a plea.
He leaned in until their foreheads almost touched. His breath grazed her lips.
"You have no idea," he said softly, "how hard I'm trying to behave."
Her heart thudded painfully. "You're… not doing a very good job."
His mouth curved in a dangerous, devastating half-smile.
"No," he whispered, "I'm not."
And then he touched her.
Not a kiss. Not yet.
Just his fingers.
His fingertips brushed the inside of her wrist, slow as a caress. A trail of heat danced up her arm. She inhaled sharply as he lifted her hand, guiding it to his chest—right over his racing heartbeat.
Her fingers trembled against the fabric of his suit.
"Feel that?" Derek murmured.
She nodded.
"That's what you do to me."
Her body went molten.
She tried to pull back, but he caught her hand again—gently, reverently—his thumb stroking the center of her palm. The touch sent a shiver straight through her core.
"Derek…"
His other hand slid to her waist, barely touching, just the edge of his fingers resting against the curve of her hip. The lightest pressure. But her breath hitched anyway.
"Tell me to stop," he whispered.
She couldn't.
She wouldn't.
He saw the answer in her eyes before she spoke, because his grip tightened very slightly, drawing her closer—until their bodies hovered inches apart, heat meeting heat.
"Eva," he breathed against her cheek, "you're driving me insane."
She felt his nose brush her temple.
Felt his breath on her jaw.
Felt everything.
Her hands—traitors of desire—lifted to his collar, clutching it lightly. The moment she touched him, Derek's composure cracked. His eyes darkened, and he leaned in—
Their lips didn't meet.
But their mouths hovered a breath away.
His thumb traced her lower lip slowly. Too slowly. She swallowed, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
"You taste like trouble," he murmured.
"Y-You haven't tasted me," she whispered without thinking.
His breath hitched.
Then he laughed once—low, disbelieving, heated. "Keep talking like that," he warned softly, "and I won't last another minute."
His hand slid down her side, stopping at the curve of her waist. His thumb pressed into her hip, pulling her just slightly closer. Her body met his, barely—but the contact was enough to send sparks exploding down her spine.
Her fingers brushed his throat.
He stilled.
A muscle in his jaw ticked.
"Eva."
She didn't stop.
Her fingertips traced the warm skin just under his jawline. Derek's breath came rougher now, uneven. His hand on her waist slid lower—fingers grazing the top of her hipbone, dangerously close to where his touch would no longer be innocent.
Heat punched through her.
"Tell me what you want," he whispered, voice shredded silk.
"I don't know," she admitted.
"Yes, you do."
His lips grazed her cheekbone—barely.
A whisper of contact that made her gasp.
Her hands clutched his collar harder.
"Derek…"
He angled his head, his lips brushing the corner of her mouth—almost a kiss, almost a claim—but stopping at the last second. Teasing. Torturing.
Her entire body leaned toward him without permission.
He exhaled shakily. "You're going to be the end of me."
His hand slid fully onto her hip now, fingers curling into her dress, holding her firmly.
"Please," she whispered, though she wasn't sure what she was asking for.
His forehead dropped against hers.
"You're not ready."
The words sliced through the haze.
Her eyes flew open. "What?"
"You want me," he said, voice thick with desire he was barely holding back. "I know that. I feel it. But once I touch you the way I want to touch you… once I start… I won't stop."
Her knees went weak.
"And I'm not going to rush you," he continued. "Not when you're this important."
Her heart flipped painfully.
"Important?"
He cupped her jaw with both hands now, holding her like she was breakable and precious all at once.
"Yes," he whispered, brushing his thumb across her lower lip. "More than you know."
Her breath trembled. "Then why bring me here?"
"Because," he said, lips grazing her cheek again, "I needed to feel you. Just a little. Just enough to stay sane."
He pressed a slow, lingering kiss to her cheek—just shy of her mouth.
Heat shot through her in a wave so strong she nearly sagged into him.
He caught her waist immediately, steadying her.
"Derek…"
"Not tonight," he whispered. "Not like this."
But his hands didn't leave her.
They lingered—warm, possessive, trembling with restraint.
She stared at him, lips parted, heartbeat racing.
"What happens now?" she breathed.
He lowered his forehead to hers again.
"You go home," he said, though his body betrayed how much he didn't want to let her go. "And you think about what you want from me."
"And you?" she whispered.
He exhaled sharply, brushing a final heated stroke of his thumb over her lip.
"I'll be thinking about you," he murmured, "far more than is safe."
Before she could answer—voices approached from down the hall.
Derek stepped back, eyes still burning.
"Later," he said softly.
But his look promised far more.