11. Archer
11
Archer
I swear, if I wasn’t one hundred percent certain she didn’t know about the cameras throughout the house, I would think this woman was trying to kill me. I have been locked in my office for most of the day, trying to get some work done, while a certain redhead has been busy driving me out of my mind.
Maggie is on the back porch twisted up in some crazy yoga move that shows off her flexibility but doesn’t look the least bit natural.
I mean, seriously, how can a person bend that way?
I watch as she moves into another position. This time, her perfect ass is high in the air, back arched as she looks towards the sky. The brilliant afternoon sun shines from behind her, illuminating her silhouette and highlighting all her gentle curves as she moves fluidly through her poses.
She is wearing one of those spandex workout tops that look more like a bra than a shirt and skintight yoga pants that leave little to the imagination.
I palm my hardening cock through my slacks as images flood my mind of her on her hands and knees, back arched in pleasure while I fuck her from behind.
I open the top drawer of my desk, taking out the light blue panties I held onto weeks ago. I should have thrown them out with the rest of her soiled clothes but like a fucking creep, I kept them.
Undoing my belt and zipper, I reach in, pulling out my straining cock before wrapping the soft silky material around it. Watching as she moves her limber body through a series of stretches, I slowly glide the silk up and down my length, groaning aloud as I imagine it’s Maggie’s tight little pussy.
She turns, her breasts now thrust forward towards the camera, and all it takes is a few hard tugs before I erupt, coming so hard I see fucking stars.
Disgusted, I clean myself up before reaching over and ripping the plug from the wall, effectively closing down the feed.
Enough. I have to stop torturing myself this way, because everything I told her last night was true. I’m not a good man. I’m a monster. It was because of me that my family has been ripped apart. My greed and lust for power was what led to my sister’s demise.
Growing up we didn’t have a lot of money. We weren’t dirt poor, but I know my parents struggled. My stepdad was a great husband and father but a shitty businessman, and when he passed, he left us with nothing but a mountain of debt.
At the ripe old age of eighteen, I was thrust into becoming the man of the house, and I blame the stupidity of my youth for what I did next—turn to the one person I never should have trusted: my biological father.
Walter Rhodes came from a wealthy family, and as owner and CEO of Rhodes Corp., a large investment firm, he had the means and the responsibility to help our family. In my eighteen years of life, my mother had never taken a dime from him, and I felt he owed us.
Although our relationship had always been strained, I figured he’d give me some low-level position where I could work my way up, all while still being able to provide for my family. Little did I know that while Rhodes Corp. appeared squeaky clean from the outside, under the surface, corruption reigned.
It started off small, money laundering, running drugs, weapons...that kind of thing.
He tried to ease me in slow. It wasn’t until two years later that he gave me my first hit: one of his old business partners that had a penchant for little girls.
My father may not be morally sound, but there are a few lines even he would not cross.
I always thought taking a life would be hard, but as I stood over that spineless piece of shit while he begged for his life, I found it surprisingly easy. No…I had no qualms about ridding the Earth of men like him.
I felt unstoppable, like a God. I became drunk with power—that is until my sister paid the ultimate price for my hubris.
Suddenly needing to get out of here, I snatch my keys and wallet off my desk, only to run smack into the one person I am trying to avoid.
“Hey.” Maggie stands in the center of the living room, her soft creamy skin flushed with sweat and looking so goddamn sweet, it makes my guilt over what I just did increase tenfold.
She gives me that shy smile, looking up at me through her thick lashes, the rosy color staining her cheeks darkening, as if thinking about our encounter from last night.
Oh, I noticed the desire in her eyes, how needy she looked when I backed her against the wall, the way she trembled under my touch. It took every ounce of willpower I possessed to walk away and not take her right then and there, to not get lost in her tight heat and allow her to chase away the ghosts that haunt me—but that wouldn’t be fair to her.
I have nothing to offer beyond one night of pleasure and she is worth more than that.
Plus, something tells me one night with Maggie would never be enough.
“You’re leaving?” Her smile slips when she spies the keys in my hand, and something in my chest squeezes at the way her face falls when she realizes I’m going out.
“Yes. I do have to work at some point. Not all of us can just laze around all day.” My voice comes out much harsher than I mean for it to, the anger bleeding through .
A look of shock mixed with hurt flashes in those green eyes, making me feel like the bastard I am, but I don’t apologize, and I don’t take it back. It’s better this way. It’s better if she hates me.
I watch as that hurt slowly morphs into anger as she glares at me, her eyes turned into narrow slits.
“Right,” she says coolly. “Well then, can you check on my apartment while you’re out? That is—if you’re not too busy working . As much as I enjoy this Dr. Jekyll, Mr Hyde routine you have going on, I would like to go home at some point.”
I fight back a smirk at her biting tone. That’s it, baby. Show me those thorns.
“Careful, Little Rose,” I say, pushing into her personal space, unable to help myself. The smell of her cherry almond shampoo, mixed with her sweat, and something that is all Maggie, doing dangerous things to my control.
I need to get out of here before I do something foolish. Hearing her talk of leaving makes me feel feral.
“You’ll leave when I say you can…and only when I say you can.”
With that, I step back leaving her standing with her mouth gaping open before walking away.
I’m sitting in my office at Port, when Jayce barges in. He walks right in like he owns the fucking place—which I guess, technically, he does own half—before he plops down on the leather sofa opposite my desk .
“What the hell do you want?” I say, not even bothering to look up from my desk.
“So…” he drawls. “Given your bitchy attitude, I take it your date didn’t go well?”
“What are you going on about?” I ask, not in the mood to deal with his crap today.
He just gives me a shit eating grin.
“Oh, I think you know exactly what I’m talking about. The girl from last night. The one with those pouty pink lips.”
“Jayce…” I growl low under my breath, and the fucker just laughs, which only serves to irritate me further.
“What was her name again?” He taps his chin as if he’s thinking. “Oh right—Maggie. Smoking hot too. It’s too bad she obviously didn’t put out?—”
“Don’t you fucking dare talk about her like that,” I say, raising my voice, the rolling chair slamming against the wall as I stand abruptly.
My body is vibrating with the itch to smash something. I’ve been needing an outlet to work off my frustrations, and it seems my dumbass brother just provided me with the perfect opportunity.
“Dude, calm down. I was only messing with you. It was a joke,” he says holding his hands out in front of him, eyes wide with shock at my sudden outburst.
I exhale deeply before sagging back into my chair. He’s right; I do need to get a grip.
I’ve never been quick to anger, always managing to keep a tight leash on my emotions. When Jayce found me after Celia’s death, it was the only way I was able to keep going, to become numb to it all, never allowing myself to feel.
My heart became encased in ice so thick no one could penetrate— until her .
“Sorry,” I say, my hands running through my hair. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”
“It’s her, isn’t it? The girl.” At my nod he whistles low under his breath.
“And…she’s living with you?” he asks in disbelief.
“It’s only temporary. Someone broke in, trashed her apartment. She didn’t have any other place to go,” I say in response, though technically, that’s not true. Of course, as always, my brother sees through the bullshit and calls me out on it.
“Sure. Cause you know, it’s not like she couldn’t stay with her mom, or at a hotel, maybe? Or hell, even a friend’s house. No, her only choice was you. A practical stranger. Sounds reasonable,” he says dryly.
Something about how he says it rubs me the wrong way. It’s not like I kidnapped her. She got into my car willingly and for some reason, it seems important for him to know that.
“I didn't force her to come with me. I gave her the option, and she chose to come home with me.”
“Ah—but that’s just it. Why did you do that? You never let people into your space. Hell, you barely tolerate me in your house.”
“That’s not true,” I scoff, but he just gives me a bland look.
“Look, all I’m saying is she must be special to you, and I’m glad. It’s about time someone knocked down those walls of yours.”
“I don’t have a clue what you are talking about. I barely know her,” I lie.
“You obviously like her enough to live with her, albeit temporarily, and what’s not to like? She is a beautiful woman, who, by the way she was looking at you, is clearly interested. You would be an idiot not to go for it.”
Standing, he stalks towards the door, turning back to me before opening it, his face serious, giving me a look I can’t quite interpret.
“I know you feel responsible for Celia’s death, but that shit’s on them and not you. At some point, you have to stop punishing yourself. You deserve to be happy too, Arch.” And with that, he leaves.
Jayce’s words echo in my mind the whole drive home. Is that what I’m doing? Punishing myself? I don’t know.
What I do know is that despite what he says, it was my fault. Even our mother blames me.
Yet…he never has, though he has every right to.
While I don’t agree with him, hearing him say those words, knowing he doesn’t hold me responsible, makes me feel a bit…lighter, slightly more hopeful.
Trudging up the stairs to my room, I freeze at the top of the landing, my blood turning to ice in my veins.
Maggie stands in the open doorway to my room, arms wrapped around her middle as she curls in on herself. Her face screws up as she winces in pain, and it feels as if someone has sliced me open, my blood and guts spilling out onto the floor .
Fuck—is she sick?
She was sick or hurting and came looking for me, and I wasn’t here.
I curse myself for leaving her here alone. I didn’t even think to give her my number. Evidently, I wasn’t fucking thinking at all.
“Maggie,” I say, reaching out, cupping her face in my palms. She doesn’t feel clammy or feverish, so that’s good, right?
“Hey, Baby look at me. What’s wrong?”
“Thank God you’re back.” She breathes out a sigh of relief.
The look on her face when she gazes up at me like I am the answer to all her prayers, is my absolute undoing, and with that, my heart tumbles from my chest to join the puddle of gore at my feet.