Only you | Derek Morgan

This can't be sanitary

L A Y L A ' S   P O V

"I really should go home."

Derek's lips travel up from where they've been working softly, nipping and sucking on my neck. He rains a path of kisses across my jaw, all the way to the corner of my mouth.

"I'm really not stopping you," He murmurs softly against my lips.

Okay, I'll admit it. I was the one that dragged him in here because I can't deny that the second he closed the distance and his lips touched mine, it's like there was a fire ignited inside of me that I've never experienced before.

Everything between us being beside the pool table and the flick of the lock on this bathroom door is a complete blur.

Derek pulls back slightly, hesitantly looking down at me, waiting for me to make the decision on what's going to happen here. So when I lean up and press my lips to his again, he gets the message that I want this.

I really fucking want this.

His lips curve up into a smile against my mouth, pressing them harder while his tongue delicately slips inside my mouth when I part my lips. Side note, he definitely has the softest lips I've ever felt.

A hint of whiskey still lingers on his lips, so I pull back to ask him an important question.

"How drunk are you?"

"Completely sober," Derek says. "How about you?"

"Sober as a judge. I can recite my abc's backwards if you want."

A laugh passes Derek's lips, brown eyes glimmering with amusement. "I'll take your word for it."

His lips descend on mine again as our bodies press together heatedly against the wall, breathing heavily as he gives me another one of those toe curling kisses. I can feel the thud of our combined heartbeat as our hands travel each other's bodies, reaching and pulling to get impossibly closer.

Derek's knee is wedged tightly between my thighs and his hands are grabbing at my waist, encouraging me to grind against it. A small gasp leaves my lips with each roll of my hips, and the ache between my legs eases with each movement, giving me a hint of the pleasure I know is coming.

My hand slides down Derek's chest, feeling the hard ridges of his body beneath my fingertips. I want to rip his shirt off, but I refrain and settle for undoing the buttons instead, knowing he can't walk out of here with a shredded shirt.

Shredded is the right word because when I push his white shirt off his shoulders, that's exactly what I'm met with. With each inch my hand descends lower, my fingers trace the contours of his taut muscles and the ridges of his abdomen. Derek's breath gets heavier, gripping my waist tighter. My eyes travel right down his body to the perfect v that disappears beneath his belt and to the very impressive bulge he's sporting in his jeans.

Grinding on his thigh feels good. So good. But it's not enough. At this point there's probably a wet patch on his thigh.

I bite back a desperate whine of frustration. "What are you waiting for?" I whisper against his lips.

Derek's lips brush the shell of my ear. "Your permission."

I didn't think it was possible, but he did in fact just get hotter with those two words. Consent is sexy.

"Please," I whisper, breathless. "Please, touch me."

The second the words leave my lips, Derek's hand raises higher and brushes my inner thigh, his featherlight touch doing nothing but growing the pool of wetness in my panties. His fingers undo the button on my pants and he slides them in, ghosting them over the damp material of my panties.