Warm hands sliding up her bare back, his breath hot in her ear.

"We'll have to cancel the deposition," a voice says, bringing Casey back to the present.

"Which?"

"The Tremblay case," Alice says, consulting the file in her hand. "We haven't been able to get a hold of the client, so we can't schedule the depo."

She nods, frowning a little. The deposition is essential. It is what's keeping the case from moving forward, and this is the second time they've had to cancel it. She should be focusing on this, thinking of a solution.

Her fingers tangled in his hair; back arched, grip tight.

"Casey, honey, are you listening?" Nora's voice raises in the phone, calling for her attention.

She blinks, staring at the pencil she'd been twirling in her fingers. "Yes. Pick up the cake at four."

"At three," Nora sighs. "Where is your head these days?"

A little offended, Casey pulls the phone away from her ear to stare at it. "What do you mean?"

"Last weekend, when you came for dinner, you washed the same plate for twenty minutes until Edwin burst in through the back door, and then it was like you realized what you'd been doing."

"I'm just a little distracted." As if that isn't the understatement of the century.

Concern laces itself in her mother's words. "Maybe you should go see a doctor. It seems like your mind is floating away more and more."

"Maybe," Casey allows, gaze drifting back to the pencil twirling. "I'll pick up the cake at three."

Soft moans echo in the room, his grip bruising on her hips.

"-birthday dear Marti, happy birthday to you." Somehow she's missed out on the entire song. Ashamed and guilty, her face flushes pink. Instead of paying attention and celebrating her sister, Casey's been too busy thinking about him, about their last encounter… or the one before that… or even the one before that. She can't get her mind to focus.

It doesn't help that he's standing right beside her, hand brushing against the outside of her thigh. His cologne is subtle, but it reaches her, reminding her of the last time they were together. She feels hot all over, an aching feeling in the pit of her stomach and between her legs.

Before she can think it through, Casey grabs Derek's arm. "I need to talk to you."

Leaning in, his scent, the soft undertone of his body wash, the feel of his leather jacket in her hand, the warmth of his hand on her leg, Derek floods her senses.

His hands grabbing her ass, his lips pressing against hers in near desperation.

She shakes away the memory, catching the flash of anxiety in his eyes. Ever since they started… whatever this is between them, she knows that he waits. Waits for the moment where Casey will do what Casey does and try to make more out of it than there is. While she hasn't told him that she wouldn't, Casey has no intention of doing so.

In fact, there's nothing more to make of it. Casey knew precisely (sort of) what she was getting into when she started this. This is a no strings attached, friends-with-benefits arrangement. Whatever she feels in addition to that… well, that gets shoved into a box, locked, wrapped in a chain with a second lock, and pushed far back into the deepest recesses of her mind.

Sex with Derek is dangerous for many reasons. The first being what could happen to their family if anyone found out. The second won't happen because Casey refuses to feel anything more for him; she will not fall in love. Simply won't happen; no ifs, ands, or buts about it. She can handle casual sex. The third, well, that's a problem she hasn't found a solution for yet.

The third problem is that Casey is addicted.

Addicted to his touch, his laugh, his smile, his kiss, having him inside of her, the way his tongue feels when she's sat upon his face…

Some days it's all she can do to function, to do anything that doesn't involve thinking about him, fucking him, or touching herself to the thought of him.

Frankly, it's a problem she's willing to live with.

"Now?" He asks, brows furrowed.

"Yes." Casey doesn't wait for an answer, immediately nudging her way through the gathered crowd. There aren't many people, but there are enough guests that no one will notice if they go missing for a few minutes.

Derek joins her in the hallway of the venue hall shortly after. She doesn't give him a chance to say anything, grabbing his arm and dragging him into the women's restroom and a large stall. "Here?"

"This is not the strangest place we've-"

"Oh." Understanding dawns, and her knees go weak at his mischievous expression. She loves that look. "So, when you said talk…"

"Yeah," she shakes her head, pulling him by the lapels of his leather jacket. Casey would never have guessed the smell of leather would be such a turn on for her. "I didn't mean talk."

He doesn't get an opportunity to respond because she's pressing her lips against his, hungry.

Why is this the only thing she can focus on in the last few months? Why is the feel of his hands, his fingers, his mouth, and his tongue the only thing that makes her feel alive?

Derek lifts her, shoving her against the cool tile of the bathroom. Immediately, her legs wrap around his waist. "You can say it," he murmurs against her lips.

"You wish."

He shrugs one shoulder, lazily dragging his hand up her thigh. Pinned beneath him and the bathroom wall, Casey squirms. "Someone is going to notice that we're gone if we aren't quick."

"Then be quick." There's a slight whine in her voice, but she can't find it in her to be ashamed, not right now.

"I don't have a problem taking my time."

Sometimes, she thinks that Derek enjoys it as much as she does, that he lies awake at night stroking himself while reliving one of their many (many, many, so many) trysts the way that she does. Most days, she knows better, but some days she thinks that he needs her the way she needs him.

"I need you," she pants.

Casey, however, is the only one who ever says it.

It gets the result she wants, though, because Derek's mouth is back on hers, his fingers threading through her hair, ruining the updo she'd painstakingly pinned. She doesn't care, can't care, not with his other hand gripping her thigh, digging in almost (but not quite) painfully.

Carefully (she could almost believe it's tenderly), he puts her feet back on the ground so he can unbutton his pants. The lack of contact, though short-lived, leaves her feeling cold and empty. It isn't until he's hitched up one leg and buried himself in her that the feeling fades. She wraps her arms around his shoulders, pulling on his hair as he buries his face in her neck with every thrust.

Sometimes Derek gets this intensity about him when they make love fuck; she feels almost-but-not-quite suffocated by him, like being covered in a weighted blanket. "Harder," she insists, not quite knowing why she feels so desperately needy for him today. More so than usual.

It's not like Casey doesn't understand that this isn't healthy, that she's probably borderline obsessed, and she's putting way more thought and attention into hooking up with Derek than he probably is.

The thing is, she doesn't care. One day she might, but for now, she just wants to keep him in whatever capacity she can have him.

"So fucking…" Derek trails off with a grunt. He's getting close, and he reaches between them, his finger circling her clit. It doesn't take much for her to shudder between him and the bathroom wall, biting onto his shoulder to keep from crying out. He doesn't stop, even after she's spent. Not even when the bathroom door opens and someone goes into the stall next to theirs.

Casey bursts out into shaky laughter when they leave, clutching Derek for support. "We're going to get caught."

"You dragged me in here," he reminds her.

Rather than worry about semantics, she pulls him in for a kiss, holding his mouth hostage there until he's finished.

When they're done, and he's caught his breath, he helps her adjust her skirt, and she fixes his jacket. Derek leaves first, giving her a moment to fix her hair. There's no way she'll get it back to the way it was, but she can at least make it presentable.

Once her hair has been fixed, Casey meets her eye in the mirror and promptly bursts into tears. It's a while before she makes it back out to the party.

His tongue swirling against her clit, his eyes sparkling up at her.

His arm around her shoulders, his head pressed against her temple.

"I don't know why you're still here?" Derek's saying, waving a potato chip around her office. She shouldn't be thinking about convincing him to eat her out on the desk, but when has that stopped her? Eight months into this thing, and she's still addicted to the thought of him.

She shrugs, swiveling in her chair, delighted when his gaze rests along the inside of her thigh. "It's my job?"

"You hate it here."

That's not entirely true, but it isn't wrong, either. Maybe if Casey were doing a job she loved, Derek's touch wouldn't be the only thing to make her feel like she was living right now. "I do not."

"You do."

She rocked her hand side-to-side. "What should I be doing, then, oh wise one?"

"Me," he says, smirking at her. It's dumb how her breath hitches. "Or working for a firm that does something you believe in?"

"Let me know when that second one becomes an option," she says, throwing a pistachio shell at him. "In the meantime…" Casey stands, crossing around the desk to nudge the door closed. "Might as well put that mouth to use elsewhere."

Being a neat freak has its advantages. Unless she's knee-deep in an active case and preparing for trial, Casey's desk remains mostly clear of clutter. There's nothing to shove out of the way (and later put to rights) when she sits on her desk, leaning back on her hands and spreading her legs.

Wasting no time, Derek sets his lunch aside on one of the other chairs. He rolls up the pencil skirt until it's up on her hips. Chuckling a little, he leans back to look at her. "You plan for this?"

"Nah." She shakes her head, pleased at the expression on his face upon finding her without underwear. "But I had considered we might leave the office for lunch."

"Not that it's stopping us."

"Not that it's stopping us," Casey agrees, setting the toe of her high heels on the arm of each guest chair. Derek dives right in, and the feel of his tongue… she whispers out his name, tilting her hips up to meet him. He tries to pull away, trying to tease, but she's not having it today; Casey locks her legs behind him, holding his hair. She can feel his smile as he returns to work, his tongue making small circles. His eyes never leave her face, as far as she can tell.

When she's done, nearly about to fall off the desk, Derek tugs her onto her feet, turns her around, bending her over the desk to slide his finger between her legs, pumping inside of her. "God, I love this," he mutters against her hip, pressing a kiss there.

She's on top, her hands pressed against his chest, taking her time. He's cuffed to the bed, bucking his hips to get her to go faster.

"So, then I stripped down to nothing and got out of the ticket."

Casey hums. "That's nice." It's only when Emily rolls her eyes and falls back against her seat that Casey realizes what happened. "I'm sorry, Em. My mind has been all over the place, lately." She buries her face in her hands.

"Lately? It's like all the time. Over a year, every time I've talked to you, you've been distracted. Have I done something?"

"What? No! No." Casey shakes her head, flinching as her phone buzzes. It's Derek's text tone, and she can see the preview. "You haven't done anything. I'm just-it's complicated, but it isn't you. I'm just terrible. I'm sorry, Emily, really."

And she should be paying more attention to the conversation, but Derek's question about her availability has prompted her back into fantasy land.

"What is going on, then? Don't tell me that it's complicated. I'm a big girl. I can handle it."

The phone buzzes again. Casey breaks down, and she fills Emily in on everything that's been happening the last thirteen months.

It all comes pouring out: how she hates her job, how she thought she'd be living a different life by now, how Casey can't seem to focus when she's on dates because all Casey can think about is how they're not Derek.

"I can't imagine sleeping with someone I love for that long."

"Love?" Casey scoffs, nearly choking, practically hyperventilating. "I don't-no." She shakes her head. "No, I don't."

"Casey? Babe, It's okay."

Emily pulls her into a hug, one of those good ones that can stitch together the broken pieces of you, even if just for a moment. With that one act, she unlocks the secret box hidden in the back of Casey's mind. And then she's crying.

They make a plan.

Step 1: Casey finds a new job.

Step 2: Casey breaks it off with Derek.

Step 3: Casey gets a makeover or treats herself to a spa.

Step 4: Casey goes on vacation and spends some time focusing on herself and her career.

She's almost asleep, unable to open her eyes, and in her almost-not-quite-a-dream, he says, "I love you."

He beams when he opens the door, stepping aside to let her in. "Hey, you. Congrats on the new job."

"Hey, thanks." Casey doesn't move to go in.

Thinking it's a game (it wouldn't be the first time), he raises an eyebrow at her. "Not coming inside?"

"Derek-" something in her tone catches his attention because he immediately grows serious, frowning at her- "I can't do this anymore."

"Oh." The frown deepens, and the space he had created for her to come inside grows smaller until she'd have to shove past him to get inside. It wouldn't be the first time, but she's not going to. "You didn't have to come all the way here to tell me that," he snarks.

She closes her eyes, taking a deep breath. "I'm sorry."

"No need to be apologetic on my account."

"Right." Her eyes snap open, and Casey folds her arms across her chest, hugging herself. "God forbid you feel something for once."

"Feel something? Case, I-" He shakes his head, palming his face. "That's fucking rich. You want me to beg on my knees for you to stay?"

Yes. "Of course not."

"Of course not." He echoes her, but the way he says it cuts into her so deep that she's surprised there aren't wounds in her flesh.

"How long did you think this could go on?"

"I don't know." He spread his arms wide. "You tell me. You won't talk about it!"

"There was no need. I know you. I know what you wanted!"

It's silent for a moment as Derek studies her. Then, very quietly, he says, "I just wanted you."

"I know, and you had me, and that was great… but people-I'm not meant to last like that."

He straightens up, leaning on the frame. "What was the point of all this, then? You use me until Prince Charming comes along?"

"Use you?" Casey reels back, staring at him. "I loved you. I love you now. I love you every single fucking day, and it hurts." She's sobbing, deep and guttural, it's embarrassing, and she knows that Derek doesn't do tears, but there's nothing she can do to reign it in. Somewhere in her sob, a laugh escapes. "It hurts because I know that you could never-" Squeezing her eyes shut, she presses the heels of her palms to her eyes.

Warm arms encircle her, and she can feel Derek press a kiss to her temple. "Casey," he murmurs, and it shouldn't make her feel better, because of course, he would let her down gently. He tugs her inside, and she lets him, too tired to fight against it. "You crazy, crazy woman." When he laughs, she can feel the deep rumble in his chest. "I've loved you for years. How have you not realized?"

"What?" She tries to pull away, and he lets her just far enough that she can look at him but not so far that she's out of his grasp. "Don't fucking toy with me, Venturi."

He shakes his head, smiling a little. "Yes, all this time… I've just been with you, Casey. This has never been some hookup. I kept waiting and waiting for you to have the Big Relationship Talk, and when you never did, I just assumed… sex was all you wanted."

"I thought that's all you wanted."

Grimacing a little, Derek shrugs. "I can see why you might have…" He'd never been too keen on a relationship in the past. He lets her go so that he can cup her face, kissing her forehead. "I love you. I always have, and I always will."

That night, when they're naked, and she's wrapped around him, Casey feels warm and content. While Derek had most certainly fucked her just as well as he usually did, this time, she didn't question if she imagined the loving gaze or the tenderness in the way he touched her. There had been love, too.

Gentle fingers tickling up her sides, a loving kiss to her forehead.