Chapter 9
AN: Had five minutes before I have to go to a birthday party. So...Surprise... Saturday post!...
They had their first argument since this whole thing started early in the third week of their affair. It was really innocuous, which was the strange part of it. She barely saw Derek on Monday, only talked to him on the phone. She wasn't avoiding him, quite the opposite. She wanted to be near him more than anything. Regardless, it was almost better to keep her distance; her mind wandered when he was near.
Besides, she was really busy training in a new Tech. Marc Houston was a fantastic looking brainiac with a thousand watt smile almost like a certain fantastic profiler she was making love to on a regular basis. Derek blew him out of the water in looks and charm; still, this guy was cute. He resembled Brad Pitt; all the women in the bureau noticed. Even Mindy Hastings slunk her skanky butt over to see him.
The funny part was, Marc was more interested in diagramming analog databases than dating. He had the social graces of Spencer Reid. He didn't even notice half the women of the FBI were prowling after him. He was awkward, so clueless, but so nice; Penelope grew to like him immediately. She felt kind of sorry for him, and tried to make him feel comfortable.
It was Tuesday, Penelope was returning from her lunch break with Marc. They were nearly back to her lair, when the shit hit the fan. They were laughing over the new design of the latest laser printer, when Marc slid his arm around her shoulders.
She stiffened immediately and stepped away from his arm. "Marc, what-"
"You are so special, Penelope," he gushed, reaching for her shoulders with both hands. "You understand me, understand my sense of humor. I could grow to love you."
She shook her head; she didn't want this. "Marc, I-," she began to say.
"I am going to say this once, asshole, so you better listen," a deadly low, very familiar voice growled from behind her. "Get your hands off my baby girl."
The other man, rightfully fearing for his life, removed his hands quickly. "I didn't..I...," he sputtered, his handsome face alternating shades of red and white.
Derek clamped a hand on her wrist, dragged her into her lair, and slammed the door. "What the fuck was that?"
"I don't know what you-"
"You know exactly what I'm talking about," he spat, glaring at her. "Didn't he know you're taken?"
Her eyes went wide. Taken? She looked at him with disbelief and confusion. "I didn't want.....But I'm not, really."
"Oh, yes, you are," he said with a grave intensity. " For two months, one week, and four more days, you're mine."
Her heart panged in her chest at the first part, then she realized with the second part, he was only angry because he thought she'd broken rule number three. "I wasn't doing anything with him, Derek; you need to end the caveman mentality."
"Who the hell is he, then?"
"He's someone I'm training, that's all." She took a deep breath and looked at him. He was so angry, she'd never seen him that angry. Under the anger was something else she couldn't exactly pinpoint…she thought it might be hurt.
That broke her heart. She would never want to hurt him; he'd been nothing but wonderful to her. She walked up to him and wrapped her arms around him. "I didn't break rule number three. I wouldn't."
It took a moment before he put his arms around her, but then he held her in a fierce embrace against his chest. He kissed the top of her head. "I saw him touching you and I saw red."
"It was nothing," she said, looking up at him.
"I still didn't like it." He chuckled a little. "I'm sorry, baby girl. I'm not used to being so damn jealous, you know."
Her heart panged again, but then she put it in the context of their relationship and let it fly away. "Don't be. I'm yours until we finish that list."
He grinned, and opened her door. "Then I'm going to keep adding to it." He left, but not before he shot another warning look at Marc, who was waiting outside the door.
It was a long rest of the week. The weekends couldn't come fast enough for her. Every day, Derek stopped in her office, shut the door, and gave her a scorching kiss. By the time he pulled away, she was breathless and frustrated. She wanted him with everything in her.
Friday finally arrived. She thought it would be nice to have dinner at a nice restaurant, so she made them reservations. "It's a cozy little French place."
He made a face. "That's a terrible idea."
She looked at him questioningly. "Don't like French food?"
"Going out to dinner is a bad idea."
She was hurt. He didn't want to go out with her. It sounded stupid, they went out last weekend. She didn't mean to pout, but she did anyway. "Well. Fine."
He released her out of his arms and ran a hand over his face. "Okay. We'll go, but it's a bad idea."
She had just enough time to change into her little black cocktail dress before he picked her up. She opened her door, and he stepped in. He looked at her from head to toe and back up. When his eyes met hers, she gasped at the amount of heat she saw in them. She knew he liked what he saw.
She barely had time to shut the door before he pulled her into his arms and started to kiss her. It was obvious he was absolutely famished for her. His tongue invaded, his hands gripped her bottom, pulling her hard against him, the thick ridge of his erection pushing against her belly.
Her head fell back with the pressure of his all consuming kiss, and she started to feel dizzy. She was almost ready to start kissing him back when he raised his head and stepped away. He held her upright, at arm's length, so she didn't sway.
When she finally stood on her own, he dropped his hands and muttered, "Alright, damn it. Let's go." He was scowling with a definite pout, his eyes glittering narrow slits. He looked like he was being walked to his execution!
Her eyes widened, and then she started to laugh. "Derek, you didn't want to go out because you wanted me?"
"I've wanted you so fucking badly for an entire week, I'm absolutely aching with it. Now that I have you, I don't want to share you with the general public," he said, his voice growing lower. "But I can compromise."
She was trying to hide her smile, but it was very hard. Inside, she felt like dancing. Never in her life did she ever feel so desirable. She looked at him, looked down at the unmistakable bulge behind his fly, and then looked back up, before smiling. "Promise me you'll take me out tomorrow."
He lifted her up, carrying her quickly to her bedroom. "Sunday. Let me have a couple of days. Sunday, I'll take you out to breakfast, lunch and dinner."
That night, and the entire weekend, he made love to her like every moment was the last. It wasn't hot and kinky, it was sweet and tender. It was obvious he missed her like she missed him. He would hold her afterward, playing with her hair, not wanting her to be more than a breath away.
Penelope couldn't decide what she thought was better, or if she could even compare the two. Kinky, teasing, wicked Derek brought her to fulfillment quick and dirty. Soft, tender Derek was slow and gentle, nearly bringing her to tears with how much he seemed to care.
He did take her to that French restaurant Sunday night before she had to leave. It was bittersweet; the food was great, Derek was wonderful, but she was sad because she had to go home. He was wonderful the whole weekend, making her feel cherished, in and out of bed. It was so important for her just to be with him, such a driving need, her heart was becoming confused. She tried not to think about that.
All Penelope knew for sure: at the end of this weekend, it was even harder than the last to leave him.
