YAY :) I'm so glad to see people getting into the story. I'll try to keep parts coming as time allows. Thanks so much again for all your comments.
Also, due to STRONG demand, I've left a little treat for some of the reviewers in here. (You'll know it when you see it)
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9: Prelude to a Boom-shak-a-laka
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"Tell me how much you want me," Derek rasped as her head fell back against him. He breathed in as her hair brushed his face, his hands gripping her blouse and bringing her closer, "Say it for me."
Her body was burning everywhere he touched her, but she bristled, and Derek hissed as her elbow stabbed his chest. "You are so damn arrogant."
"I'm not telling you, I'm asking you; please."
She didn't answer and he turned her again, his gaze a mix of panic and a desperately forced coolness, "Do you want to do this with me or not —you can say no," he lied, his gut twisting, "It's okay."
"You know I do," she whispered almost angrily.
"Right," he said, trying to pretend this was clearly obvious to him, and not stupefyingly good to hear, "Then say it."
"I want you," she hissed.
"Thank you," he sighed and his head ducked for a moment, his eyes squeezing shut. And, when they opened again she was surprised to see them shake with vulnerability. "Thank you," he said again.
Her face softened and she let him pull her back to him, let him take her hand and press his lips to it. "We have to do this," he said, "We can do this."
"Can we?" she asked, voice catching.
"Yes."
--
"You tell him; you're his favorite."
"No, you should tell him; you knew him before me."
"No, you—Nigel," Derek squeaked, grinning awkwardly as the office door opened. He sent him a sheepish look as he continued to hold Casey from behind, "Hey, great news!"
Nigel sighed deeply. "I leave you alone for five minutes…"
--
"...so will you help us?" Casey asked.
Nigel blinked, still numb from trying to process it all. "With what, exactly?"
"We want to…" Derek shifted uncomfortably, "You know, one-ify or whatever."
"What?"
Casey huffed and clapped her hands together three times. "Boom-shak-a-laka!"
Derek squinted, baffled, and was surprised to see Nigel's eyes widen in comprehension.
"Oh…oh…oh?" The therapist answered, confused.
"I'm lost," Derek said.
"Shut up," Casey said over him and turned back to Nigel, "Can you help us? Please? We want to be together."
"And, we know there have to be boundaries," Derek said, hurrying on, "But, can't we like, I dunno, compromise…do an intersection instead of a sidewalk, or whatever the analogy would be?"
"Metaphor," Casey said, wringing her hands.
"Right, whatever."
"And, probably not an intersection," Nigel finally answered tiredly, "That's seems to have sexual connotation."
"Right, okay, no intersecting."
"I won't pretend I shouldn't have seen this coming," Nigel said wryly.
"So you'll help us? Do your wacky, unorthodox but effective therapist thing?" Casey asked.
"Right, well," Nigel sighed and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his neck, "We can try to work this in further, help you…'boombaka', or what have you. But, until we do, I truly encourage boundaries and restraint. And, that would of course include keeping intimate physical contact to a minimum."
"Right," Casey said.
Derek nodded. "Obviously."
--
"I'm just gonna give you a 'mini' kiss goodnight, okay?" Derek murmured, his lips lingering by hers as they stood at the front door.
She nodded and he pulled her closer, leaning down as she leaned up…and then his gaze shifted across the room.
"What's wrong?" Casey whispered as his mouth hovered just over hers. "Are you nervous?"
"No, but…I lied. And, I was planning on Frenching you pretty indecently; but Nigel's watching us and I feel like I'm about to French his daughter right in front of him and he has a shot gun hidden somewhere—literally, about the gun, by the way."
"Well, good," Casey said, making his eyes flicker back down to her, "I don't want our first kiss to be an 'indecent' frenchie anyway."
"Why not? We're Canadian."
"Because it should be sweet, like a Lollypop."
That sounded beyond silly.
But, her lip gloss did smell like candy—the good-tasting-only-thing-on-your-mind-all-day-is-getting-some-because-you're-a-five-your-old candy—so he decided he'd get some.
He brushed her lips and the tiny, sweet, agonizing sparks started up his spine as their mouths whispered against each other, soft, testing, teasing until she finally grasped his neck and tried to deepen—but he suddenly pulled back, eyes fluttering open.
"He's still watching," he said against her lips, "And yeah, yeah, he's glaring now."
"Okay, fine," Casey breathed, getting a little agitated, "But, I didn't want it to be that chaste."
"I'll make up for it later, I mean he's really glaring, Case."
"I thought you were supposed to be able to perform under pressure."
He grimaced as she pulled back, determined to keep his cheeks from pinking.
"Hey," he said with manufactured, yet well-practiced bravado, "There's enough of me to go around 'til later, 'kay, babe?"
"Don't call me 'babe', I hate that; you called all those other girls 'babe'," Casey snapped and they were officially no longer whispering sweet nothings or being romantic at all.
"Fine," he snapped back, "Would you prefer 'honey bunches of difficult', then?"
"That's not funny."
He sighed as she moved away from him, and he wanted to grab her, but—once again—his eyes fell on the legally registered rifle owner; so he resisted.
For a moment.
And, then he braced himself and hurried past Nigel, following her down the hall and into the office.
"Okay, so I was a little nervous, alright?"
"Please. Yeah, right, 'Romeo'."
"I'm serious, it's a lot of pressure to kiss someone you actually care about and that you've wanted for so long. I mean, I used to torture myself fantasizing about what it would feel like; and in some of those, you'd pretty much just diss me or slap me or laugh or all of the above. And, Nigel standing there like an ex-marine father fresh off parole didn't exactly help, okay?"
"Well, you calling me 'babe', and drudging up your sleazily magnificent past wasn't very helpful either. I can't even…" she shook her head, sighing, "I'm so out of the mood right now, it's not even funny."
"Yeah, it's really not," he rolled his eyes, "I'll just 'call you' then, or whatever."
"Why would you say that?" Casey said, glowering at him, "Why do you keep saying these stupid, insulting things? Do you think you're witty or something?"
"See, this has got to be one of those trick questions; because yes, in general, I do find myself witty—and I thought you did, too," he answered, squinting, "But, you don't look amused, so…?" He shrugged and trailed off.
"Is this really the best you've got, 'Rico Suave'? Because I'm not impressed."
"Stop calling me those ridiculous names. I'm not some sort of mythical sex god…"
She snorted.
"…And, yeah, sometimes I screw up, especially when I'm nervous, I already said that," he finished, his voice climbing now, "And, you keep getting angrier and more turned off from me; what the hell do you want me to say? Do you want me to not say something? Do you want me to leave? Do you want me stand on my head and juggle flaming bowling pins?"
Her face softened, and then she stepped back, her eyes clouded with guilt.
He didn't say anything, but sensing her shift, he walked to her and did the last thing she'd expected: lowered to his knees. His hands settled on her waist and he pressed his head to her stomach. "I just want to make you feel good."
Her stomach warmed where he touched her, and she threaded her fingers through his hair, tugging gently so they could look at each other. "Mission accomplished, Romeo."
--
"You are aware I think of Casey almost as a daughter...and that I own a gun, correct?"
Derek swallowed and nodded slowly as Nigel confronted him at his desk. "Oh, yeah, I sorta remembered that…a little…a lot..."
"Derek," Nigel sighed, "You have to learn to contain yourself, even when I'm not around to watch you."
"And, when are you not gonna be around, watching, again? Just out of curiosity."
Nigel scowled at him and Derek slid down in his chair.
"Do you want my assistance or not?"
"Yes," Derek said quietly.
"And, do you want your relationship with Casey to be as healthy and successful as possible?"
"Yes, Nigel," Derek mumbled.
"Then please: Listen to me. And, absolutely no French kissing; I don't care if we are in Canada."
--
"What do you think about my beard?"
"Honestly? It's kind of growing on me," Casey said softly, this time more sincere.
"Yeah?"
"Still no; for god's sake, please shave it."
Derek frowned slightly and rubbed his beard as Nigel rejoined them in his kitchen.
"I really want to win the contest though."
"Yeah, and I really want a real from kiss you, but—and you can quote me on this—those things are not gonna happen simultaneously."
"I think it makes you look charming," Nigel said cheekily.
But, Derek ignored him and spoke directly to Casey, "Consider it gone."
A pleased smile curved her lips and Derek watched them lazily, before his eyes moved to Nigel's form.
"Oh, gee, and have I mentioned how much I miss you when you're not here to chaperone us?" Derek said, batting his eyelashes.
"Hey, that's my move," Casey hissed.
"It looks better on me."
"Pfft. As if. Nothing looks better on you."
"Except you. Ha!" Derek guffawed, but soon stopped when he noticed Casey's and Nigel's stone cold expressions. "Um, mmm," he cleared his throat, "That was um…Did you make this pudding, Case, it's great."
--
"Hey…?" Casey was surprised, yet not unpleased when Derek arrived at the door early the next morning, a small bag in his hands, "You're up really early."
"Yeah, I didn't think you'd want to miss this."
"Miss wha—ahhh!"
She shrieked and literally bounced in front him as he held out the shaving kit.
"Are you serious?" she squeaked, "Are you teasing me? Because if you're teasing I'm gonna kick your ass-"
"No, no, I'm not teasing you. I want to do this for you. Plus…" He smiled crookedly, "It's really awkward never knowing if there's food in your beard or not."
--
"That's it," Derek murmured, staring at himself in the mirror, "You can come in."
The door opened and Casey's breath hitched as he turned to her.
"I probably look like a twelve year old," he said uncomfortably when she didn't respond.
"No," Casey answered softly.
"No?"
He shifted anxiously as she came toward him, her eyes clouding as she took in his smooth, bare face. She studied it, stared at it, memorized, and decided she'd missed every single dimple and crinkle of his cheeks.
"You look so..." She breathed out, head shaking, "Handsome."
She could see his eyes warm as they fell on her.
"It's been a long time since anyone's said that to me," he whispered, lips quirking wryly.
"Well what? Has everyone been legally blind or something?"
He blinked, wordless as she slipped her arms around his torso and whispered to him, "You used to think you were the shit back in high school, that you were just so hot. And you were," she admitted, "But, being in the army's only made you hotter, so why can't you see that?"
"I don't know," he said quietly.
"You're so hot," she said, reaching up and stroking his cheek, his chin, his jaw, "And, you have to know I notice that."
He nodded dumbly. "Right."
His face scrunched slightly and he tilted his head so she could touch him more.
"What am I, a piece of meat?"
When he smirked, that cocky tilt that used to so infuriate her, she felt her stomach flutter, just like it used to.
"Ass," she whispered.
"Are you offering?"
Her eyes narrowed and then she smacked his ass, before winking, and leaving the room.
--
When he entered the spare room about a half hour later, he almost swaggered. And Casey couldn't keep the gentle smile from her lips, satisfied. She never thought she'd enjoy pumping Derek Venturi's ego so much, that she could pump Derek Venturi's ego.
His smirk dropped a little when he asked her, "Casey?"
"Yeah, Der?"
"First; don't call me that. And, second…does this go together?" He looked sheepish as he gestured to his outfit. "I can't remember."
Casey glanced over his dark brown pants, his blue shirt, and then up to his eager face.
"Yes," she lied instantly.
"Oh." He smiled. "Good."
He turned and she could only take it for another two seconds before her face twisted and she called after him. "No, no, actually, it really doesn't."
"Oh," he said again, face falling.
"No, but you still look good," she sprinted, "You just…you need…take off your pants."
His eyebrows spiked, and she rolled her eyes. "You know that's not what I meant. Just change them when you get back."
"Why?" he asked seriously.
"Because they don't go. You should try khaki's or even just jeans."
"Oh...okay," he said slowly, "But, I don't look stupid?"
"No. And, it doesn't have holes in it, so that's a good start."
He nodded, eyes registering relief, but still a little bewildered as he turned from her. "Right. I'll let you change if you need to."
"Actually, wait," she said, moving to her bed, where several tops were spread out, "Since you're here and I usually spend a ridiculous amount of time trying to figure out what you want anyway…can you tell me what you like?"
Derek's eyes widened, unsure whether to be more shocked that she actually cared about his preferences, or that she was trusting his fashion judgment.
"I um…"
"I was thinking this one because it brings out my eyes," Casey said, lifting a blue tank to her chest, "Or maybe this one because it shows cleavage—which I know you like, but would probably make Nigel feel uncomfortable…or maybe even…"
She reached for another one, but Derek shook his head as he walked over to her, and then knocked the clothes from her grasp.
"Hey."
"You look sexy in everything," he whispered to her, his hand grazing her shoulder. He let it run down her back and wet his lips. "And, when you wore that outfit the other day..."
"Yeah?"
"I…"
"You what?" she asked.
"I…"
She reached up and yanked the necklace. "Say it for me," she ordered with a smirk.
"I…thought you looked very lovely and ladylike."
She squinted at him and then turned to see Nigel entering the room.
"Hopefully not interrupting anything," he greeted dryly.
They both sighed and Casey released Derek from her.
"Don't worry Nigel," she answered, annoyed, "We weren't having wild, kinky sex in your guestroom."
She rolled her eyes and the two men exchanged uncomfortable glances.
"Yeah, gross," Derek said. He cleared his throat, "You, um, wanted something Nigel?"
"I was just letting you know that everything's prepared," he explained, "So if you're ready…we can begin."
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