Derek was just walking by when Summer’s body pressed into his, going back against the wall with a confused expression. He was surprised by the kiss, though he could smell her attraction to him sometimes, it’s not like there wasn’t some toward her either. He just didn’t expect that. Though it didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy it. He watched her walk a few steps before striding out and catching her wrist gently, pulling her back and spinning her, kissing her again.
She arched, pressing herself into his hands. He was so patient, so cautious — it was like torture, but a good kind. Hesitantly, she brushed her fingertips over his bare chest, hazily wondering if there was a place she could touch him that would make him arch and moan.
Derek leaned gently into the hands on his chest though he was more focused on the girl under him. His hands gently cupped her and thumbs slid up to brush slowly over her nipples as his head dipped in, kissing a line down the middle of her chest.
She was too overwhelmed by the sensations, of his hands and his stubble brushing down her skin, to be aware of the faint, brief moans she was making. Summer closed her eyes, body writhing under his hands, and her pulse pounded as she reached for his hips, hands barely spanning the bone. She held on there for a moment before curling her fingertips over his waistband.