The Boy Who Has No Hope (Soulless #6) - Victoria Quinn Page 0,8
a deep breath, he’d returned to the state of calm he’d exuded before I’d provoked him. But he continued to hold on to me, like affection was so rare for him that he wanted to soak it all in.
It was the first time we ever embraced, so it was the first time I’d smelled his cologne on his clothing, felt his t-shirt while he was actually wearing it instead of when I was removing it from the hamper in his closet. It was the first time I felt his hard chest, the one I’d seen in the flesh once before, and now it felt like my tits were pressed against a solid steel door. He was warm, but my nipples hardened like he was cold. Feeling him hug me in return made me feel like nothing bad had ever happened to me, like nothing bad would ever happen while I was in those strong arms. It gave me a sense of peace, like swallowing a Valium.
I’d done this for him, to give him the comfort of a friend, but it gave me just as much satisfaction.
It broke my heart to see him that way. It was like I felt the pain myself, all the guilt that would never go away. I could feel his heartbeat as well as listen to it, notice the way it slowed down as his body and mind recalibrated into a state of serenity.
It made me feel good knowing I’d helped him achieve that.
But it made me feel good…for other reasons.
I loved novels so much because fictitious characters gave us something to strive for, to show us how to be better people, because in the real world, they were so shitty. But Derek didn’t feel real. He felt like a character in a book because he was so different…so special.
I felt lucky to have him in my life…as my friend.
After he took a deep breath, he slowly pulled his arms away and stepped back.
I let him go…even though I didn’t want to.
He directed his gaze elsewhere as he stood there, as if direct eye contact was too intimate right now. But then his gaze flicked back to mine, his brown eyes guarded but also soft, vulnerable. “I’m sorry I got carried away…”
“Don’t apologize, Derek. I should have been more understanding.”
He rubbed the back of his neck then cleared his throat. “I’ll think about what you said.”
“Okay…”
He left the office and walked out, getting back to work like nothing happened.
Three
Derek
“So, anything going on between you two?” Pierre stepped to the table and leaned over it as he looked at the schematic I was examining.
“Who’s us two?”
Pierre nodded into the office, where Emerson was in view.
I ignored his look. “No.”
“That was quite a hug you had yesterday…”
I lifted my gaze and looked at him.
“What?” Pierre straightened. “You did it right in front of the window. We weren’t spying.”
Jerome stood at the other table, working on the laptop. “Thanks for bringing me down with you, man.”
I wished they hadn’t seen that, not that I had anything to hide. But I didn’t want to share what had prompted the embrace. “It was a hug. Nothing more.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Every time you hug someone, it means something?” I countered.
“Uh, when I hug like that, yes. And when I hug a woman who looks like that…” He looked through the window again to see her walk to the desk. “Yeah, it definitely means something.”
“Don’t look at her like that.” I knew how men were, dogs in a locker room. It didn’t bother me outside the office because I was the biggest dog there was, but in a professional setting, it was wrong. And she was someone who deserved more respect than that, regardless.
He straightened. “Derek, you aren’t helping your case, man…”
“I was having a hard time, and she comforted me. That’s it.”
“Right…” Pierre continued to stare at me.
“Can we get back to work now?”
“Sure. But…can I say something?”
I sighed and put down my paper, since this wasn’t going to stop until Pierre finished his point.
“She’s really something, man. And I’m not talking about the way she looks. She’s not stuck-up even though she’s gorgeous. It’s like she has no idea or something, like she doesn’t own a mirror. And she’s smart, considerate, thoughtful… She seems like the real deal to me.”
“She’s not my type.” Pierre and Jerome knew exactly what my type was.
“Yeah, she’s not your type for a one-night stand and a weekend fuck-a-thon. But she’s definitely your type for something more.”