Meredith can feel the pressure from Derek's hand on her lower back. It fits perfectly into the small of her back. Like that is exactly where his hand belong. She leans into his body slightly as they walk down the crowded street, a slight breeze sending chills through her body as it comes into contact with the dewy perspiration on her forehead. It is a chilly night in Madrid, but the crowds that surround them are producing so much body heat that they both find themselves sweating. At least they both claim that it is from crowds. It has nothing to do with the fact that they shared a searing kiss before the game began or the fact that a bolt of electricity seems to originate at each point of contact made between their skin. No. It is the crowds.
Derek leans down next to her, his hot breath caressing her ear before his words do so. "I was thinking that we could go back to the hotel for the rest of the evening…" he says loud enough for her to hear.
Meredith stops in her tracks and stares up at him, wondering exactly what he has in mind. He feels her stop and immediately turns to face her, a questioning look wrinkling his brow. He grips her elbow in his arm and pulls her closer to him. "What's wrong?" he yells over the chaos surrounding the still pair.
Meredith arches her eyebrow as she stares into his blue eyes. "What exactly did you have in mind for when we get back to the hotel room?" she asks in a somewhat saucy voice.
He swears that he can see a twinkle in her eye as she stares up at him. He smirks down at her before bringing his lips down near to hers. Near enough to feel the essence of his lips, but not the lips themselves. "Meredith," he says in a soft voice that causes her to squeeze her legs tightly together in an effort to quell the storm that threatens to rage there, "I'm not going to have sex with you tonight."
A hurt look spreads across her face as she attempts to yank free from his grasp. He tightens his grip on her elbow before gripping her chin between his thumb and forefinger and forcing her to look him in the eye. "I'm not going to have sex with you tonight. I don't want to have sex with you," she attempts to jerk away again, but his grip remains firm. "I want to make love to you," he whispers in a soft voice filled with passion.
Derek releases his grip on her chin, running his thumb along her jutting jaw line. Tears build in her green eyes as she stares into his, his words so fresh and new to her. He leans forward and presses his lips against her forehead, tasting the salty remnants of sweat. He pulls back and looks into her eyes once again. "I want to get to know you. I want to know everything about you. The good. The bad. The ugly. The beautiful. I want to be the one to cause you to laugh through your tears. I want to be woken in the middle of the night because you are scared and find that safety in my arms. I want to be able to look deep into your eyes and see your soul. I want to whisper I love you in your ear as we both tumble over the precipice together," he says with a smile and tilt of the head.
He reaches up and brushes a stray strand of hair out of her face. "So no, Meredith, I don't want to have sex with you. Not tonight. Tonight. Tonight I want to spend time with you. Tonight I want to spend time with you so that later we can have a lifetime of making love," he finishes with the tears in his eyes mirroring those in Meredith's.
She is rendered speechless. She doesn't know how to respond to his dreamy speech. So, she does the only thing that she can think of. She lifts her hand to his face, cupping his cheek. He leans into her touch. Her fingertips dance across the whiskered skin with the grace and nimbleness of a ballerina dancing across the stage. Her fingers touch every single hair, caress every millimeter of skin.
She sets out to memorize every single detail about his face, as if an artist preparing to paint a portrait from memory. Or a sculptor. Perhaps that is the better metaphor for Meredith as her fingers traipse across his forehead, down the bridge of his nose, and along the edges of his lips. Derek's lips part slightly at her airy touch, her fingers brushing against his skin like butterfly wings.
Their intimate moment is suddenly interrupted when someone bumps into Meredith, sending her forehead crashing against Derek's lip. He wraps his arms protectively around Meredith to stop her forward tumble, ignoring the pain in his mouth created from the collision. He looks down at her. "You okay?" he asks with genuine concern in his voice.
She glances up at him. "Oh, Derek!" she gasps. "You're bleeding!" she shrieks in a somewhat panicked voice.
Derek reaches up and touches his lip with his hand and is met by the warm, sticky feeling of blood as a stinging sensation resonates where he touches the small cut. He chuckles as he looks down at her, amusement in his eyes as he watched her panic. He grabs her wrists to still her nervous movements. "Mer," he says calmly, "it's okay. It's just a little cut. It doesn't even hurt," he says with a smile.
She looks up at him, her bottom lip protruding slightly as she pouts. "But you're bleeding," she says, almost as if to say "you're bleeding, so you must feel pain" but she doesn't finish that thought. After all, isn't bleeding the one thing that always reminds Meredith that she is alive by feeling the pain so closely associated with that deep red liquid.
Derek wraps his arm around Meredith's waist, pulling her side plush against his. He leans down close to her ear. "Let's go back to the hotel and I will let you take care of my lip and then we can watch a movie," he says in amusement.
This does the trick as he feels Meredith's previously tense body slacken and lean further against him. Her giggle dances through the air like raindrops on an otherwise clear day, welcome and refreshing. "Let me take care of you, eh?" she asks with raised eyebrow as soon as she stops giggling.
Derek chuckles a deep, hearty laugh. "Well, yeah. You're my woman. You're supposed to take care of your man," Derek says, drawing out the last syllable in mockery of a strong Southern drawl. He elicits the response he was hoping for as another shower of giggles falls around him, quenching a thirst only recently created by Meredith.
"Your woman, eh?" she asks while giggling. "I can be your woman I guess, but if you tell me to get in the kitchen and make a sandwich…I will kick your ass," Meredith finishes in a somewhat serious tone.
Derek chuckles as he pulls her close and leans down to plant a kiss on her hair. "Does that mean I get to be your man?" he asks while laughing.
She stops and looks up at him, pretending to regard him seriously. "I don't' know," she says seriously as she brings her finger to her chin, suggesting deep thought.
Derek's mouth falls slack at her as his eyes widen in mock shock. He knows that they are only partaking in a bout of playful banter, but can't help but be intrigued by her answers. "What do you mean you don't know?" he asks in a whiney voice.
Meredith crosses her arms over her chest as she smirks at him. "I'm just not sure if you bring enough…meat…to the table," she says, struggling to keep the laughter at bay as her eyes travel from his perfect hair to his perfect feet, lingering momentarily at his belt buckle.
He tilts his head back and chuckles before taking a step forward and closing the abyss that arose between them during the banter. He wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her chest plush against his. He dips his head down, consciously bathing her long neck with waves of his hot breath. "Oh," he starts in a husky voice, "I bring plenty of…meat…to the table," he says as he begins to suck on her earlobe, effectively sending chills down her spine. "Trust me, I've never had any complaints," he finishes in a cocky tone.
He feels Meredith's body stiffen in his arms and immediately wonders what he has said wrong. He pulls back and looks at her. He can see a certain sadness beginning to form in her eyes. "What is it, Mer?" he asks in a concerned voice.
She shakes her head, saying "Nothing," quickly before pulling away from him. "We should really get back to the hotel and take care of your lip." Her voice is different. It's not as light and gay as it was earlier. It seems to be weighted down with something. He just has no idea what it is.
He wraps his arm around her shoulders to show her that he isn't going anywhere. She can try to pull away. She can try to run. But he isn't going to let her. Meredith Grey is really something. He knows that. He knows that just from the short amount of time they have spent together. He knows from that short amount of time that he wants to spend a lifetime getting to know the little firefly in his arms.