Derrick sighed again and got out, walking to the entrance of The House. He wasn’t even interested in any action tonight, but he was restless and on edge. Sandra had occupied his thoughts the entire day. Ever since he’d taken her to the cemetery and had seen the difference in her.

He didn’t know what to make of the abrupt change. She’d walked out of her house in jeans and a T-shirt, looking so young and beautiful that it still made his chest ache to remember the image of her.

And then she’d asked to be left alone at the grave and she’d stayed there, her lips moving as she’d spoken to Clement for a long while. When she’d returned, there was a marked difference in her demeanor. And then that spiel about not needing him. Apologizing to him, for fuck’s sake. Apologizing for being a goddamn burden. For taking up too much of his life and time. Hell, she didn’t even realize she was his life. Or at least he hoped she would be.

He checked in with the man working the door and wandered through the lower levels. The social rooms. The places where people met up, drank good wine, mingled before moving upstairs to the common room or one of the private suites.

There were plenty of beautiful women and no shortage of interested looks thrown his way. It had been a while since he’d come here to work off some steam. Usually after he’d spent time with Sandra, pretending the woman he was with was her. It made him a bastard, but he made certain the woman he was with was taken care of. She had no way of knowing that she was a poor substitute for the one woman he couldn’t have.

Was she finally moving on? She’d talked the talk during the car ride home. She’d been blunt, painfully so, and it had cost her. He’d seen the obvious emotion in her eyes when she’d said that Clement was gone and he wasn’t coming back and she had to move on and accept that. But did she mean it?

He was afraid to hope. And he was afraid of making the wrong move. He couldn’t afford to spoil it all up by pushing her too soon. She viewed him as a friend. She viewed herself as a burden to him. Someone he’d babysat through her grief. Never even realizing that he lived for the moments when he was with her.

Clement had known that his best friend was in love with his wife. He’d known and accepted it. Derrick had been afraid that it would ruin not only their friendship, but their business partnership as well. But Clement had understood. He trusted Derrick never to act on that attraction. And he’d also exacted a promise from him that were anything ever to happen to Clement, Derrick would be there for his wife.

Hell of a note when his best friend entrusted his wife to his care if something happened to him.

Worse was the fact that Clement had exacted that promise mere weeks before he’d been killed in an accident. Almost as if he knew. Had he sensed that something would happen and that his wife would be left a young widow?

At the time, Derrick had brushed off the very serious pledge that Clement had confronted him with.

If anything ever happens to me, man, I want you to promise me. Promise me that you’ll be there for Sandra. I know you love her. If there ever comes a day that I can’t be there for her, I want you to promise me that you’ll take care of her and love her like I do.

The words echoed through his mind. Prophetic? Or just coincidence?

At the time, the promise had just been a painful reminder of all that Clement had and all that Derrick didn’t. Sandra was . . . She was beautiful. Not just physically. She could light up a room by simply walking in. She had a gentle smile that could charm even the hardest heart. And she’d never so much as looked in the direction of another man after she’d met Clement. God knows, there’d been no shortage of men only too willing to seduce another man’s wife. But Sandra acted as though she had no clue of her effect on men. And that made her all the more desirable to Derrick.

After making a quick round of the social rooms, he picked up a glass of wine—Damon Roche served only the best—and headed up the stairs to the common room.

There was the usual eclectic mix of sexcapades occurring in the large, open room. Though there were no actual partitions, the room was sectioned off simply by the participants taking their own spaces for their activities.

A mixture of sounds and smells greeted him as he walked farther into the room. The slap of flesh on flesh. The smack of a whip or a flogger. The sighs, moans and cries of ecstasy. Some of pain. Some of pleasure. The air was thick with the scent of intimacy.

He crossed the room, taking in the occupants, wanting to ensure that Ken and Karla weren’t present tonight. Not that he was a prude by any stretch, but seeing his other best friends getting intimate wasn’t high on his list of priorities. Though he shouldn’t have worried because he hadn’t seen them at The House in months. The few times in the past he had seen them, he’d cut short his own visit, because he would never do anything to make Karla uncomfortable.

She was a very special woman, and Ken was lucky to have such perfection. Submissive. Beautiful. Gifting him with her absolute trust. There was not a more precious gift than a woman who gave her submission to a man.

It was what he wanted for himself, what he’d always sought out in any relationship he’d formed. But for Sandra, he’d deny that part of himself if it was the only way he had a chance at having her. Knowing Clement’s background, Derrick knew with certainty that Clement and Sandra had never delved into that lifestyle.

But then he’d never gone beyond casual intimacy after Sandra. Once she’d come into Clement’s life, a whirlwind, there hadn’t been another woman for Derrick. He sated his needs, made certain his partner’s were met as well and then he moved on, never willing to commit, even though he’d known that Sandra was unattainable. Only now that wasn’t true. She was free. But could she ever love another man as she’d loved Clement?

That was the question of the day. And could Derrick be content with only a part of her heart?

He nodded before he could stop himself. Yes, he’d take any part of her he could get. The question was, when did he make his move?

Today had given him the first ray of hope in three years that Sandra was ready to move past her grief and live her life again. He’d been patient. He’d been whatever she needed him to be. But he wanted to be so much more.

He retreated to the corner of the room, politely declining with a gentle smile a woman who offered to service him. Another night he may have let her, close his eyes and imagine Sandra under his firm but tender grasp. But tonight his thoughts were consumed with Sandra and he couldn’t muster the heart to pretend as he’d done so many other times.

His family thought him a fool for not moving beyond his feelings for Sandra a long time ago. They’d eyed him with sympathy for the last three years. His brothers had even asked him when he was going to act. But he’d known it wasn’t time. Not then. But now?

He couldn’t help the petal of hope that unfurled when he’d been with Sandra earlier today. He’d seen the difference in her eyes and in her demeanor. But then that unnecessary apology for being a burden, and she’d acted as though she were finished being that burden to him.

To hell with that. If she thought he was just going to step aside, she was very wrong.

He stood watching with waning enthusiasm, not even sure what had driven him here tonight. What he wanted was to be with Sandra. Watching a movie and trying to get her mind off her grief, which is what he’d done the last two anniversaries—and plenty of times in between. The day hadn’t gone at all as he’d expected. He’d cleared his calendar, made certain his clients were covered so that he could spend the day with her.

He hadn’t expected her to all but dismiss him after their trip to the cemetery.

His gaze was drawn to the entryway where a couple entered, and he did an immediate double take.

What?

He stared, unable to believe what he was seeing. Sandra had just walked through the doorway, a man he knew from The House at her side, his arm wrapped intimately around her waist, his hand splayed very possessively over her hip, leaving no question of his . . . ownership. Or impending ownership?

She was dressed in a killer black sheath that hugged and outlined every single one of her perfect curves. And she wore a pair of tempting shoes that just begged for a man to get intimate with her. Hit her in those heels until she screamed his name over and over.

Her hair was upswept, a few tendrils floating lazily down her slender neck, drawing attention to the delicateness of her features.

And she looked scared to death.

Derrick was striding across the room before he even realized what he was doing. For that matter, what was she doing? Here! In a goddamn establishment devoted to all manner of immorality.

And the man she was with was a regular at The House. He had a string of submissives, and rarely was he with the same woman twice in a row. And yet here he was with his arm wrapped very possessively around Sandra, lust evident in his eyes.

What on earth did she think she was doing?

He was just a few feet away when Sandra lifted her shocked gaze to his, her mouth falling open in surprise just as mortification seized her features. Panic flickered in her eyes and she took a step away from the man at her side.

The man, Craig, was quick to pull her back, and that infuriated Derrick all the more. He reached for Sandra’s arm, swiftly pulling her into the safety of his side.

“What?” Craig demanded, reaching for Sandra’s other hand.

Derrick immediately inserted himself between Sandra and Craig, shielding her with his body.

“Get away from her,” Derrick barked. “Now.”

Craig’s eyebrows shot up and he stared for a moment before finally putting his hands up in a gesture of surrender. Not typical for a man like Craig. A Dominant who didn’t yield to anyone. But then Derrick was convinced he likely looked like a crazy person about to explode, judging by the wariness in Craig’s gaze. And Craig wouldn’t be wrong about that assumption. Derrick was precariously close to losing his tenuous hold on his control.

“I’ll just go find other company for the evening,” Craig murmured.

“You do that,” Derrick said behind clenched teeth. “And don’t ever make the mistake of coming near her again or I’ll take you apart. We clear?”

“Yeah, man, I got it.”

Craig gave Derrick—and Sandra—a wide berth before continuing into the room.

Derrick turned to see Sandra’s pale, shocked face and swore under his breath. He grabbed her hand and hauled her into the hallway. She still hadn’t uttered a word. Her face was stricken, and she looked so humiliated that Derrick wanted to put his fist through the wall. The last thing he wanted was to embarrass her, but for God's sake. What was he supposed to do when she showed up looking like a woman a man would die to possess? A woman he was dying to possess.

He ushered her down the stairs and down the hallway to the exit as fast as he could without making her trip in those spikes disguised as shoes. He was tempted to throw her over his shoulder and barrel out like a caveman. He managed to temper that particular urge. Barely.

As soon as he had her outside, he turned to her, trying to curb the anger that coiled through his veins.

“Where’s your car?” he clipped out.

“I d-didn’t drive,” she stammered out. “I took a cab.”

Jesus. That was worse. Had she not expected to go home alone tonight? Was she planning to sleep over with whatever guy she hooked up with here? But then how did he know if this was even her first time? For all he knew she could be a regular and maybe she and Craig had hooked up before. Derrick certainly hadn’t been in enough recently to be caught up on the goings-on at the club.

He herded her over to his car and opened the passenger door, ushering her inside.

“Derrick?”

The one word, laced with fear and uncertainty, cut him to the core. Damn it, the last thing he wanted was for her to be afraid of him. He had to calm down before he lost his damn mind. And destroyed any chance he had with her.

“I’m taking you home,” he said in a more gentle tone.

He walked around to the driver’s side and slid in, starting the engine and backing out almost before he had his door closed. He roared down the winding drive that led up to the house and waited impatiently for the gate to open to allow him to exit.

As he accelerated down the highway, he felt Sandra’s nervous gaze flicker toward him. Saw her bite the bottom of her lip as she obviously struggled with what she wanted to say.

He reached for her hand, squeezing it in a reassuring manner.

“We’ll talk when we get home,” he said, his voice a command, one that he hadn’t used with her before.

But it worked. She immediately closed her mouth, though her bottom lip was still between her teeth as she nibbled nervously. Mortification still gripped her features, and it made him ache to know she was suffering. Embarrassed. Likely thinking he was going to tear a strip off her hide. And maybe he was. He wasn’t at all sure what he was going to say to her yet.

They drove the rest of the way in tense silence, her hand firmly trapped in his. He could feel her trembling and it slayed him that she feared him. He’d nip that in the bud just as soon as he got to the bottom of this.

She looked surprised when he pulled into his neighborhood, which was just a few miles from her own subdivision. She turned to look at him, a clear question in her eyes.

“We’ll talk here,” he said shortly as he pulled into his drive.

She went silent again, her head bowed as she stared at her lap. Undone by her defeated demeanor, he reached over and gently cupped her chin, nudging until she was forced to look up at him.

“It’ll be okay, honey. Now come inside so we can talk.”

She nodded and he got out quickly, walking around to collect her from the car. He led her inside his house, satisfaction gripping him that she was in his space. Finally.

Though they’d spent plenty of time together over the last years, it had always been in a neutral location. Or her own home, the one she’d shared with Clement. The last time she’d been in his house was when Clement was still alive, and the couple had been frequent visitors back then.

He curled his arm around Sandra’s waist as he ushered her through the foyer and into the living room. She stiffened but made no move to distance herself from him. She was too busy looking like she was waiting for the anvil to drop from the sky on her head.

When they entered the living room, he loosened his hold and took a step away, dragging a hand raggedly through his hair. Then he turned, not sure how exactly to pose the questions burning his tongue. He only knew one way. Blunt.

“What on earth were you doing in The House tonight, Sandra?” he demanded.

She flinched at the fury in his tone and her eyes became shadowed.

“You have no idea what you’re getting into by being there,” he continued. “No idea at all. Do you have any clue what could happen to you? What Craig would have done to you? Let me tell you. He would have had you bent over while he flogged your pretty backside and then he would have hit you without mercy, uncaring of your pleasure. It would have been all about his own. He would have taken you and used you and wouldn’t have given a damn about you or your pleasure. What were you thinking?”

She wet her lips, her eyes going glossy with tears. The last thing he wanted was to make her cry when she’d made it the entire day, or at least the time she’d spent with him, without shedding a single tear.

“I do understand, Derrick,” she said quietly. “I understand far more than you think.”

His brow furrowed. “Have you been going to The House before tonight?”

She shook her head. “No. This was my first night.”

“Jesus Christ, Sandra? Do you have any idea what might have happened to you if I hadn’t been there? There is no way I’m allowing you to go back to that place. You don’t belong there.”

Her lips quivered and then she seemed to mentally shake herself. She steeled her features and leveled a firm stare at him.

“I know exactly what I was doing. You don’t understand, Derrick. You’d never understand.”

“Try me,” he challenged.

She stared at him a long moment, her eyes uncertain, almost as if she were trying to decide whether to trust him. He was on edge, because damn it, he wanted her to be able to come to him for anything. Anything at all. And he wanted her trust.

Then she closed her eyes and sank onto the couch, sitting forward, her face buried in her hands. Her shoulders shook and it was all he could do not to go to her. Not to comfort and hold her and tell her everything would be all right. But he waited. Because whatever she had to tell him he sensed was huge. And that it would forever change the way he looked at her. At any possibility of them being together.

She lifted her head, her eyes swimming in tears. “I loved Clement with all my heart and soul. He was my soul mate. I know that. And I know I’ll never find that kind of love again.”

Derrick’s breath caught and held because that wasn’t something he wanted to hear. That she’d resigned herself to a loveless existence because she didn’t think another man would ever love her as Clement had. When in fact, he was that man. He already loved her—had loved her forever—and given the opportunity, he’d show her that she damn well could find another man who’d give her his everything.

“Clement gave me everything I could ever possibly want or ask for. Except . . .”

She broke off and looked down again, her shoulders sagging in defeat.

“Except what, Sandra?” Derrick asked softly, puzzled by her statement. He knew damn well Clement would have given her the moon. Anything that was in his power to provide her, he would have done absolutely.

“Dominance,” Sandra whispered.

Derrick’s nape prickled and a curl of . . . hope? quivered through his veins. His pulse raced and he had to calm himself and clarify that he’d heard her correctly. Because there was a whole lot he didn’t understand.

“Dominance?”

She nodded. Then she looked up at him, misery clouding her beautiful eyes. “You know how he grew up. What he endured. How he and Sophia were horribly treated. In the beginning, when we first met, we talked about my . . . need. What I thought I needed and wanted. And he wouldn’t—couldn’t—bring himself to do anything that could possibly be construed as mistreatment. He worried constantly that somehow he would inherit his father’s abusive nature, that it was somehow genetic, and he’d die before ever doing anything to hurt me. As if he would! It was why he was reluctant to have children. He wanted them. God, he wanted them and so did I. It’s my biggest regret that I didn’t have his child, a part of him to live on now that I’ve lost him. But he was so terrified that he’d abuse his own children.”

The last part came out in a sob and Derrick could no longer keep his distance. He crossed the room, sat on the couch next to her and pulled her into his arms. She buried her face in his chest as he ran his hands through her hair.

“Clement would never hurt you or his children,” Derrick said with absolute confidence.

Sandra pulled away, her tear-filled eyes gutting Derrick. “I know that. You know that. But he didn’t. And I couldn’t convince him of that. His father messed him up, Derrick. Him and Sophia both. They never recovered from all he had done to them and it affected them well into their adult life. It still affects Sophia. When I told her what I planned to do, she freaked.”

“I’d like to hear what it was you planned as well, Sandra,” Derrick prompted gently. “What was tonight all about?”

She turned away, clenching her fingers into tight fists. “I know you think I don’t have a clue what I was getting into, Derrick, but I’m not stupid. I didn’t just up and decide to go to The House. It’s something I’ve thought about and researched for months. I talked with Damon Roche a lot. He wanted to make sure I knew what I was getting into and that I wasn’t making a hasty, emotional decision.”

Well, thank God for that. Damon was a solid guy. He may run an establishment that catered to every conceivable kink or fetish, but he took it very seriously and he vetted his members very carefully.

“But it’s like I told you today, Derrick. Clement is gone. He’s not coming back. And I have to pick up and move on. I can’t mourn him the rest of my life. I need . . . I want . . .”

She faltered and Derrick simply waited for her to collect her thoughts because this was huge. He was learning a side to Sandra he never suspected existed. How could he have?

“I have to know if what I think I want and need is true. I have this need inside me, Derrick. It’s an ache, a hole in my soul that’s even larger now that Clement is gone. I loved him too much to ever ask or demand that he give me something he wasn’t capable of. And it sounds like I was unhappy. God, I wasn’t! I loved him, Derrick. I loved him with all my heart and I don’t regret a single thing about our marriage.”

“I know, honey. I know,” Derrick murmured.

“But that need has always been inside me and I can’t even explain it to myself, so how can I make you understand that this isn’t a game? It isn’t me being irrational and looking to fill a void left by Clement’s death. It’s always been there. Always.”

“Try me,” Derrick said simply. “Tell me what it is you want. What you need. I’ll listen, Sandra. And I won’t judge you. I’ll just listen and we can talk about it.”

Relief shone in her eyes. Had she expected condemnation? Had she expected him to accuse her of being disloyal to Clement or his memory?

“I want to be . . . owned.” A shiver stole over her body, one he could feel even with the short space that separated them now. “I want what Ken and Karla have. I want a man to possess me, to own me. I want to submit to him and I want him to take care of me. Protect me. God, it makes me sound like some helpless, dependent twit. But that’s not it. Clement taught me to stand on my own two feet. To be independent. It’s not that I have to have this in order to survive. It’s what I want. My choice.”

Derrick put his finger over her lips to silence her. “Shhh, honey. You don’t have to defend your choices to me. I’m here to listen. Don’t defend. Just tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”

His heart was about to beat out of his chest. Had fate been kind to him after all? Had a gift he’d never dreamed of receiving suddenly dropped into his lap? Had Clement known—of course he’d known. He knew of Derrick’s preferences. That he was dominant and that he desired submissiveness in a woman. Now the promise that Clement had exacted from him made so much more sense. Clement had known his wife wanted something he himself could never provide her, and he wanted to make sure that if something happened to him that Derrick would step in and give her what Clement had never been able to. God, the sheer selflessness that such a gesture entailed was mind-boggling. He’d been granting his blessing. Jesus.

“This isn’t a decision I made lightly, Derrick. I was okay with it. Until I saw you tonight. I was so mortified. And I felt guilty, because seeing you there made me feel as though I were betraying Clement. I didn’t want you to know. Karla and Sophia knew. I told them. They’re worried about me, but they also know I took all the necessary precautions before just showing up at The House tonight. And I was ready. Or at least I thought I was. But then you were there.”

Her brow suddenly furrowed as if it had just occurred to her that Derrick had been there. He could see the question in her eyes before she ever voiced it.

“What were you doing there, Derrick?”

For a moment he brushed aside her question because there were so many other more important things to discuss. It was all he could do to hold himself back. To temper the urge to brand her. To move in, take her and give her everything she said she wanted—needed.

“I need to know something from you first. I need to know how serious you are about this. I need to know if this is truly what you want and what you need and that it’s not just an experiment or you looking to fill a void.”

“I can’t be any more serious,” she said in a resolved tone that convinced him she was indeed that.

He leaned forward, his breath mingling with hers, their lips so close he could feel the warmth from the inviting bow. Just a fraction of an inch and he would be kissing her.

“I was there because that’s who and what I am, Sandra,” he said, taking in her response, watching every flicker that crossed her eyes. “It’s always been what I am. And let me tell you this right now. If this is what you want. If this is what you need. Then I’m going to be the only damn man you offer your submission to.”

She drew in her breath and held it until she was light-headed and precariously close to toppling over. His lips were so close that she could feel the harsh exhalation of his breath. She could see the determined glitter in his eyes. And for the first time, she became aware of him as something more than a friend. Her husband’s friend. Someone she’d turned to for support many times over the years.

She couldn’t even process his heated declaration, but she knew he was utterly serious. There was a glint in his eyes, a firm set to his jaw. She could see the pulse thudding at his neck and she could smell every part of him, his scent wafting tantalizingly through her nostrils.

Derrick dominant? Not that she had any difficulty in believing that of him. He was a man well accustomed to getting his way. He had a quiet authority about him. He didn’t need to be loud to get his point across. She’d been present too many times when he’d spoken and everyone had immediately quieted, listening to what he had to say.

He wasn’t someone who shouted orders. He didn’t need to. There was an intensity to him that made people aware of the power emanating from him. She hadn’t been blind to it, nor was she immune. As she’d pondered just earlier that day, in the beginning he’d intimidated her. She’d felt his concern and disapproval over how fast her relationship had progressed with Clement. But once he’d become convinced that she was the right woman for his best friend, his loyalty to her was sealed.

But his words still rang in her ears. That brusque vow. She shivered under the intensity of his gaze, those dark eyes eating her up, exposing her, making her feel vulnerable.

“I d-don’t understand,” she said helplessly, her hand lifting and then fluttering downward again as she tried to make sense of the entire evening.

And then his next words tilted her universe even further off its axis.

“I’ve waited a long damn time for you, Sandra. I thought I’d never have you, and I was okay with that because you made Clement happy and I know he made you happy. But as you said, he’s gone now, and I’ve waited. For what seems like an eternity I’ve waited for the right moment. For when you were ready. Maybe I waited too long, or perhaps now is the perfect time. But if you think I’m going to stand by and allow another man to touch what I consider mine, you’re very mistaken.”

She shook her head, overwhelmed by it all. He spoke as if he wanted her. Had wanted her for a long time. But no. That wasn’t possible. He’d never betray his best friend. Had Derrick developed feelings for her after Clement’s death? Was he simply stepping in for his best friend, wanting to take care of Clement’s widow?

She didn’t want to be an obligation to Derrick. She’d been one for far too long. Today had been about letting go. Not only of Clement but of her dependence on Derrick.

What flabbergasted her more was that Derrick was everything she’d said she wanted, if she was to believe his impassioned statement. Dominant. He liked submissive women. And he wanted to introduce her to the lifestyle. He wanted to possess—to own—her.

“I don’t know what to say,” she said honestly. “I never imagined. I didn’t realize . . .”

“No, I suppose you didn’t,” Derrick murmured. “It’s not something I could just come out and say. But Sandra, you’ve made the first move. Now it’s my turn to make all the others. You’ve laid out what you want. What you need. What you desire. And I’m going to be the man who gives you those things.”

She stared back at him, still utterly overwhelmed by the day, the moment, this. How had so much changed so quickly? Then she shook her head in automatic denial even though a part of her, the part that had gone for so long unfulfilled, screamed at her that this was it. This was what she’d been looking for. But him?

No, they were just friends. He had been her husband’s best friend. How would it look to others? How would her friends, his family, Sophia take the shift from them being friends to becoming lovers? More than lovers. Much more. She couldn’t even fathom just how much more this kind of relationship he proposed entailed. It wouldn’t be a one-night stand. Two people hooking up in the heat of the moment. What Derrick proposed was . . . permanent?

“Stop overanalyzing this, Sandra,” Derrick said in a patient tone. But his jaw was still tight. His eyes still glittered with unshakable resolve. God, was he serious? How could she even question that when every single part of him screamed of his absolute certainty?

And Derrick was not impulsive or remotely flighty. That wasn’t who or what he was. She’d known him long enough to know that his every movement, whether in business or in his personal life, was carefully thought out. But the idea that he’d obviously given them such careful consideration blew her mind.

“But Derrick. We can’t.”

She said it emphatically even as she questioned why they couldn’t. But of course they couldn’t, could they? There was more than just him and her to consider. There were their friends. Sophia. His family. It was all making her head ache with the speed at which her world had been irrevocably altered. She hadn’t experienced such a tailspin since the day she’d learned her husband was gone.

“Why not?” he asked simply, calmly. As if he hadn’t just upended her carefully ordered existence.

Well, but that would be a lie. Her world had been upended on the day Clement had died, and it had never been set to rights. Until now? Was this what she needed to get her life back? To reclaim herself? Was Derrick what she needed or would any man do? Even as she thought it, she knew it wasn’t so. She wouldn’t feel this way—this uncertain—with another man because it wouldn’t be personal. She wouldn’t have feelings she couldn’t sort out for another man.

“What does this mean, Derrick? I don’t understand any of it. You said you’ve waited. What are we talking here? How long have you waited? You act as though you want me—have wanted me. But I had no idea. How could I have? You are—were—my husband’s best friend.”

“Be careful of what you ask, Sandra,” Derrick warned. “You may not be prepared for the answer.”

She blinked, not knowing what to make of that particular statement. Was she blind? Was she a complete idiot for not seeing this before? She mentally went back over all the times Derrick had been with her over the last years. But all she saw was unwavering support. Emotional support. All the times he’d picked up the pieces when she was certain that she’d fallen apart.

But he’d kept her strong. Pushed her when she hadn’t always wanted to be pushed, but he’d never taken her anger or rage personally. It was a wonder he hadn’t walked away from her a long time ago. But if what he suggested was true . . .

Oh dear God. What was she supposed to do? What she wanted was being placed squarely in her lap. But Derrick?

She looked up at him again, this time without the blinders. Without the knowledge that he was untouchable, a friend. Her husband’s best friend. Someone she could never even look at with anything more than the bonds of friendship.

And what she saw took her breath away.

This was a living, breathing, gorgeous specimen of alpha male. The promise of dominance and a whole lot more shone in his dark eyes. She shivered as she took in the way he looked at her. Had he always looked at her as he was looking now? Had she been completely oblivious to the strong current of attraction that arced between them as strongly as any electrical surge?

Her gaze wandered over his face, down his body, took in the broad set of his shoulders, his muscled chest, even the thickness of his muscular thighs. Not an inch of spare flesh to be found on his body.

Then heat consumed her cheeks and she looked away, embarrassed to be caught checking him out in such an obvious manner.

But he wasn’t bothered. Indeed, he looked . . . pleased.

“That’s it, Sandra. See me,” he breathed out. “Finally. See me. Who I am. What I am. And that I want you with my every breath.”

“How long?” she whispered, remembering his admonishment that perhaps she wouldn’t want the answer to her question. But now she had to know. She had to know how long he’d gone unnoticed by her.

“Forever?” he said with a casual shrug. He tried to play it off lightly, but she could see the shadows that suddenly entered his eyes. The . . . pain. And the longing. Oh dear God. It couldn’t be true. It simply couldn’t.

“Forever?” she croaked out. “You mean before . . . When Clement and I were together?”

He gave a clipped nod and all the wind left Sandra in a sudden whoosh, leaving her sagging on the couch. He made a sudden grab for her, steadying her before she could topple sideways.

“I didn’t know,” she murmured faintly.

“Of course not. I didn’t want you to know,” he bit out. “I wouldn’t have laid that on you, Sandra. What could you have done? You were in love with another man. Married to another man. My best friend. You knowing would have solved nothing and would have put a strain on our relationship. On the three of us.”

She raised her gaze to him, haunted, she was sure, because what she had to ask next . . .

“And Clement?” she whispered. “Did he know?”

Derrick hesitated only a moment, as if he were deciding just how blunt to be with her. Then he gave a quick shake of his head, almost as if he were deciding that she should have it all. That maybe he thought she was finally ready to hear what she’d been ignorant of for so long.

“He knew,” Derrick said grimly.

“Oh my God,” Sandra said shakily. “He knew? And you were friends? Derrick, I don’t understand any of this!”

Derrick sighed and then gently pulled her forward until she was nestled into his chest. He laid her head against his shoulder and pecked the top of her hair as one hand glided downward, separating and stroking the tresses that had now tumbled down from the clip that had secured them earlier.

There was so much more in his embrace than the comfort he’d offered for the last three years. She knew it now, but hadn’t known it then. Her entire body was on high alert. Her pulse raced and thudded in her veins. Her mammary glands tingled and the tip beaded and tightened against the dress. She hadn’t worn a bra and she knew that Derrick could feel the imprint of her nips through their clothing.

“Clement understood,” Derrick said in a low voice. “And yes, we were friends and we remained friends because he knew I would never betray him and he knew you would never betray him. He knew that I would never act on my attraction. But yes, he knew. And I think it gave him a measure of comfort to know that if anything ever happened to him I’d step in. That I’d be here and that I’d give you everything you could possibly want or need.”

She pushed off his chest to look him in the eye. “But Derrick, that had to have been . . .”

She trailed off, seeing the fire in his eyes. As if he’d suppressed his need and want for so long and now it was unleashed, vibrant and blazing in his eyes.

“It was hell,” Derrick quietly confirmed. “It was heaven and it was hell. Heaven when I got to spend time with you. When I simply got to look at you or see you smile. It was hell going home at night knowing you were in Clement’s arms and not my own.”

“I didn’t know,” she choked out. “I didn’t know, Derrick!”

His expression gentled and he put his hand up to stroke her cheek, rubbing downward in a tender caress.

“I didn’t want you to know, Sandra. I was in an impossible position and I never wanted that for you. For Clement. I loved you both and I would have never done anything to destroy your marriage or cause trouble. So I waited. But I’m done waiting and you need to know that.”

Her breath caught again at the sincerity emblazoned on his features.

His hand trailed downward until his fingers brushed ever so lightly across her lips. She was tempted to lick them, wanting to taste him on her mouth.

“But now I feel as though I’ve been handed a gift I never dreamed of receiving. I was prepared to deny everything about myself. For you. I never imagined you’d want what it is I can give you. So I would have suppressed that need to dominate. I would have never demanded anything of you that you weren’t prepared to offer freely. But now that I know what you want? Brace yourself, Sandra, because now that I know, I’m not going to hold back any longer. I can give you all that you want and need and so much more. So very much more. You just have to decide whether you trust me to give that to you. And whether you think you can possibly come to care for me as much as I care for you.”

She did lick her lips then. Nervous. Anticipation tingling up her spine. And hope. Slowly unfurling like the petals of a flower at the first brush of spring. Warming in the sunshine after a long winter, waiting to bloom and burst free of constraints.

“I don’t know where to start,” she said honestly. “Tonight . . . It went nothing as I had planned.”

“Thank goodness for that,” Derrick muttered. “God, when I think of what could have happened had I not been there. It’s fate. She’s a fickle and at long last she’s smiled on me.”

“What happens now?” she asked quietly, her gaze never leaving his.

He leaned in, cupping her face with exquisite tenderness and reverence. His lips hovered precariously close to hers, his breath warming her skin. And then he placed his lips on hers.

Heat exploded through her veins, rushing until she could hear the roar in her ears. It was like an electric shock, something so unexpected and yet wonderful. Desire, long dormant, rose like a fury, curling through her womb and spreading outward like a wildfire.

Her skin prickled, chill bumps rising and dancing across her skin until she shivered uncontrollably against him.

He deepened the kiss, swiping his tongue warmly over the seam of her lips until she parted them breathlessly and he swept in, colliding with her tongue. He exclaimed softly against her mouth. She swallowed up the sound, suddenly hungry, so very hungry for more.

Never had she imagined feeling this way again. Of experiencing the intense craving, of having desire grab hold and completely overtake her. She’d been cold, so very cold, for so very long, and now she was warm. Bathed in fire. His heat consumed her. His smell, his taste, the very essence of him. How could she have never known? How could she have never imagined? How could she have never seen him as the desirable, alpha male who was currently driving her senseless?

When he pulled away, his eyes were hooded and flush with answering desire.

“What happens now, Sandra, is that you are mine. At long last, you are mine. And if all you said is true, if what you want and need is my dominance, then be assured. I will possess you. I will own you. And you will never know another man than me.”

He watched the myriad of emotions washing through her eyes. She was so expressive. She’d always been so. It was one of the things he’d enjoyed most about her. One only had to look into her eyes to know her mood. Happiness, sadness, excitement.

Arousal.

The last, he found, was extremely satisfying. Never had she looked at him as she did right at this moment. Triumph surged, even as he tempered his reaction. This wasn’t in the bag. Not by a long shot. Her next words confirmed that for him.

“I need time to think . . . About this—us,” she said in a shaky voice. “This was so unexpected, Derrick. I don’t want to make a hasty decision that I—we—will later regret.”

Her honesty was another thing he’d always admired about her.

“Of course,” he murmured. “There’s no rush.” Even as his mind screamed that there was every need to rush. He didn’t want her to think about it. Didn’t want her talking herself out of it. But he couldn’t blow this. Not when he was so close to getting what he’d wanted for so very long.

“I don’t know how long . . .”

She trailed off, lifting her hand to her temple as if it ached before letting it flutter back down to her lap. He took her hand, rubbing the pad of his thumb over her silky skin. Such slender, delicate fingers. Like the rest of her. He couldn’t get enough of touching her. He’d certainly touched her in the past, but always in the capacity of a friend. Affectionate. Nothing even resembling intimacy. They both knew his touch was intimate now, and it was a thrill he wouldn’t soon get over.

“Take your time, honey. But I want you to promise me something, okay?”

When she didn’t immediately look up, he lifted his free hand and cupped her chin, his touch as delicate as her skin.