Sailor Proof by Annabeth Albert
Chapter Twelve
Arthur
The first time I kissed Derrick had been for show. Memorable though the kiss was, I’d spent days convincing myself that the audience had heightened my responses. Nothing could live up to that kind of playacting for real.
Or so I’d thought.
Then I kissed him because I wanted to, without a damn soul around, both of us sober and not caught up in anything other than firelight and good conversation, the sort where I felt truly seen and appreciated. I kissed him out of gratitude, but also because I couldn’t resist. All the temptation had built up to the point that the kiss seemed almost predestined.
And I discovered how very wrong I’d been. Kissing Derrick behind closed doors was better. After I gave him a soft, chaste first kiss, I paused, lips millimeters apart. No audience whooping. No cameras. No friends shouting encouragement. If Derrick wanted to keep the kiss going, he’d have to make the move on his own.
He moaned low, a sound of surrender, then kissed me in earnest. And lord, the man could kiss. On a dock in full sunlight or in the world’s most uncomfortable chairs, he could kiss. He kissed like he ate—slow and deliberate, like he wanted to taste each individual ingredient and like I was the feast he’d been waiting months for. Or rather, he kissed the same way I made music, like nuance mattered and no amount of time was too much to invest if it meant getting it right.
More pressure. Less. Soft. Hard. Teasing. He’d try something, then me, then him again, as easy as if we’d negotiated turns weeks in advance. He tangled his hand in my hair, pulling me closer, and I braced a hand against the table to keep it from toppling, and still we kissed. Derrick tasted like beer, which I’d never liked, but on him, the malty flavor mellowed to something sweeter I couldn’t get enough of.
“Damn. I could do that all night.” Breathing hard, Derrick groaned against my lips.
“Let’s.” I didn’t even finish my laugh before he was on me again, another kiss, hungrier now, more insistent, his tongue delving deeply as his grip on my head tightened. “For real, though, how about moving to the bed before we either roast valuable parts or become one with these awful chairs?”
“The bed.” Derrick sounded stricken and he slumped back in his chair, releasing his hold on me and taking the moment with him. “We shouldn’t.”
“Why not?” I wasn’t giving up so easily. We’d been on the verge of something transcendent, and every neuron in my body still vibrated with awareness. “Everyone already thinks we’re doing it. Why not have sex for real?”
“Because it would complicate everything.” Derrick scrubbed at his short hair. “Make a messier ending.”
“We already have our breakup plan.” Leaning forward, I stopped short of touching him again, hand hovering then returning to my lap, my body as indecisive as Derrick’s brain. “This doesn’t have to change that. Whether we hook up or not, we’re still toast next week.”
“That’s just it. I like you too much as it is.” Derrick’s pained expression canceled out any bump to my ego. He might like me, but he wasn’t happy about it. “You’re too nice for a casual one-off.”
Too nice. Fuck my life. I’d heard that a time or twelve before. I flopped back in my chair, head hitting the high back. “So I’m too likable to fuck? Sabrina’s right. I’m gonna die a virgin.”
Derrick’s eyes went wide and his face faded to several shades paler. “You’re a virgin?”
Hell. Me and my big mouth. He couldn’t have sounded more horrified than the way his voice tilted up on the word virgin.
“Oops. Hadn’t meant to say that part aloud.”
“Well, you did. And now we absolutely can’t have sex.” Pushing up out of his chair, Derrick paced away from me. “You can’t wait until twenty-five then lose your virginity as part of a fake-boyfriend scheme. That’s just wrong. You wait that long and it should be...special.”
“First off, the twenty-five part was not intentional.” I held up a hand. My stomach churned, not liking how easily Derrick had ruled out sex. “Waiting just kind of happened. I have a tendency to get distracted and caught up in work. And as you’ve noted, I’m geeky even by music geek standards. It turns out that rambling about ancient instruments doesn’t count as foreplay to most dudes. And being the RA in charge of enforcing dorm rules didn’t do my social life any favors either.”
“You’re not that geeky.” Derrick offered a half smile that didn’t make me feel any better.
“High praise.”
“I mean, you’re hot. Very hot. And likable. You could pull on any hookup app, but you chose not to go that route. Wait for someone who counts. Please.”
Oh God. The only thing worse than Derrick’s weak-sauce argument that I was too nice was him being patronizing with the advice.
“You could count.” My voice was surly, but I was fast running out of fucks to give about my tone.
“I can’t—”
“I don’t mean romantically.” Neither of us wanted to go catching feelings, but I strongly believed we could screw around without forming a lifetime attachment. “I meant that I need practice before it’s the real deal. Because guys tend to react exactly like you did with pearl-clutching horror when they hear the word virgin.”
Derrick made a sour face but didn’t deny his reaction. “Looking to get it over with is a shitty reason to have sex.”
“That’s not what I’m saying. I didn’t go the anonymous route because I didn’t want my first time to suck. But we’ve got mad chemistry.” Surely he couldn’t deny that. The sizzle when our lips met was real. “And you’re nice. You’re not going to be a jerk about it. It’s not going to suck, at least not the bad kind. The other kind of suck—”
He cut me off with a frustrated noise. “Arthur.”
“See what I mean? I ramble. Guess it’s not that surprising that I’ve scared off more than one potential hookup.” I grinned at him as he sat on the edge of the bed. “Can we get back to the kissing? In bed maybe. I think we’re both better at that than talking. We could just do things I’ve done before if you really hate the idea of being my first.”
“I don’t hate...” Raking a hand through his hair again, Derrick scrunched up his face. “Jesus, Calder would waterboard me if he knew I was even considering being your practice sex.”
“Calder never has to know.” Fucking brothers. Ruining my love life even when they weren’t in the room. “And fuck that noise even if he did find out. I’m twenty-five as you just pointed out. I’m not some innocent who needs protecting.”
“No, but you are a good guy who deserves a good first time. Not everyone gets that. Mine wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t particularly memorable either.”
“So make mine memorable.” Leaving my chair, I went to stand in front of him by the bed.
“Arthur.” Derrick gave me a hard stare.
“Okay, okay, I’m not going to keep begging. I’d rather you were enthusiastically on board than having to talk you into this. All I’m saying is that it could be good.”
“It could.” He groaned again. “And for the record, I’m not saying never. Because you are tempting as hell. But I need to think before we go further. I don’t want regrets—from either of us.”
“Damn. Way to make sure I can’t argue with that. All mature and reasonable.”
“Not feeling particularly reasonable right now.” Falling backward onto the bed, Derrick gave the pillow a hard punch.
“So what? We’re supposed to simply go to sleep now?” With nothing better to do, I went around to the other side of the bed.
“No. Yes. Fuck if I know.” Voice muffled by the pillow, he rolled away from me.
“You’re cute when you’re flustered.” Careful to not touch him, I stretched out next to him. We were both fully clothed. This promised to be a long, uncomfortable night.
“Good night, Arthur.” Derrick reached up to flick off the light, leaving us with only the faint glow of the gas fireplace. It was almost romantic, if one could ignore the acres of tension between us.
The only way I knew how to make that tension recede was with a joke. So I pretended I wasn’t wide awake and being strangled by my jeans and laughed lightly. “Bet we’d both sleep better with a goodnight kiss...”
That got a growl from Derrick. “If I kiss you, we’re not stopping till morning.”
“That’s hardly a deterrent.” I talked to the ceiling and resisted any urge to reach for him. I’d said I wasn’t going to beg, and I needed to stick to that.
“Go to sleep,” he demanded in a pained whisper. “Please.”
“Trying,” I lied, knowing full well that it would be hours before I slept and that I’d spend the whole damn night hoping that his thinking led him to the same conclusion as me. Time was wasting and there was a lot of fun we could be having if he’d simply stop being so stubbornly noble and kiss me again.
