“It was your first time.” Anger infused his tone. “You deserved more than a quick fuck against my bathroom door.”
How dare he tell her what she deserved? He didn’t know what growing up with Valerie had been like. Watching her mother’s self-worth wither or thrive, depending on who occupied her bed. She’d made the decision at a young age never to give anyone the power to destroy her ability to reason. That included the man standing in front of her.
Ginger leaned forward, getting right in his face. “I decided when, where, and with whom my first time happened. No one made that decision for me. And I don’t regret it. I’m sorry if you do. Won’t let it happen again.”
“Don’t put words in my mouth. I don’t regret it. I’ll never regret it. I just wish you would have told me.” He brushed the hair off her shoulder, his fingers lingering against her skin. “I could have hurt you, baby.”
The Derek who hadn’t called her for two days then started a bar brawl vanished, replaced by the gentle, caring Derek who scared her so much more. Recognizing the shift in his demeanor, she pushed his hand away in panic and tried to slide off the table.
He gripped her legs until she stopped struggling, then knelt down in front of her with the first-aid kit.
She stared at the top of his head, dumbfounded. “What is this? What are you doing?”
Derek began cleaning the wound on her leg with peroxide and cotton. “I’m taking care of your cut before it gets infected.”
“No. That’s not what I meant. I don’t need this from you, Derek. Do you have some misplaced sense of guilt because you bagged a virgin? Because you shouldn’t.” She banged her fist on the table to get his attention. He ignored her, produced a bandage, and applied it on top of her injury. “Stop this bullshit! I don’t need you to pretend you want me for more than sex.”
Derek shot to his feet, looming furiously above her. “You have no idea what I want.”
Except, she did. And, oh God, he really meant it. He wanted her. And not just for her body. She could see it in his face, hear it in his words. How had she gotten here?
Push him away.
“What if I don’t want more with you? Did you even consider that?”
“If you didn’t want more with me, Ginger, you wouldn’t have made me your first.”
Her laughter came out sounding hysterical. “God, you’re so fucking arrogant. You think I want to be your girlfriend or something?”
Jaw clenched, Derek rose from the floor to toss the bandage wrapper in the trash can. “I don’t care what you call yourself. Titles are irrelevant to what I want with you.”
Ginger stared at his retreating back, trying to stop his words from sinking in, from taking hold. What I want with you. Everything she thought she’d known an hour ago had been tossed out the window. He wanted more from her than a one-night stand, but what did more entail? A month? A year? Once it ended and he moved on, Ginger imagined it would be like taking the way his noncommunication had made her feel over one weekend and multiplying it by a hundred.
No, thank you.
One little problem remained, however.
She still wanted him.
Ginger watched Derek move around the kitchen, unstrapping his shoulder holster and removing his gun. Her heart kicked up the pace as he untucked his shirt, giving her a glimpse of his tight stomach. Oh God, she needed him inside her. Once hadn’t been nearly enough to extinguish the fires he’d stoked.
Could she have it both ways? Sex without commitment? Men were supposed to be the ones who wanted that, right? Perhaps as long as their relationship remained physical, Ginger could resist developing any kind of feelings for him. Eventually, she would work Derek out of her system for good. He’d probably need very little convincing to see things her way. She still wasn’t entirely convinced his guilt over taking her virginity didn’t drive the argument.
He just needs a little convincing that this relationship business isn’t necessary.
She tugged down the neckline of her top, then slipped off the table to sway toward Derek. His head whipped around, as if sensing the shift in her attitude, and watched her approach through wary eyes.
She paused in front of him, hoping the look she gave him was contrite. “I’m sorry, Derek. I don’t want to fight.” She ran a finger down the row of buttons on his shirt, playing with the final one against his lower stomach. “Not when we could be doing something else.”
When he could no longer resist looking down at her cleavage, Ginger felt a jolt of satisfaction at the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. “I know what you’re doing. It’s not going to work.”