Chapter 39
39
LAYLA
A rcher and I both reach for the same puzzle piece at the same time. Our fingertips brush.
We glance at each other across the table. We share a smile.
“Go ahead,” he says gently, and I pick up the little wooden tab, fitting it right into the perfect slot.
The two of us are sitting face to face in the library, sipping on hot cocoa and working on his jigsaw puzzle. A roaring fire keeps the room warm and casts an orange glow against the walls.
Past the frosty window panes, snow falls in the dark forest. The air is quiet and companionable, and despite the screaming tension between us, this feels so nice.
“Today was so much fun, Archer.” I speak softly. “Thank you for making it happen. Sky had an amazing time.”
“My pleasure,” he says. “I just want to see the two of you happy. You know that, right?”
I nod, feeling special. Important. Cared for. Archer always makes me feel this way.
"I think I may have enjoyed the party a little more than Sky did.” He chuckles.
“I believe you. And I saw you getting teary-eyed when he asked you to help him blow out his candles.” I smile.
“Teary-eyed? That , I’ll never admit to,” Archer mumbles peevishly and I laugh.
“Oh, come on,” I prod him. “You’re a man who’s in touch with your emotional side. It’s cute.” I take the last sip of my hot cocoa and set the empty mug on the window sill beside me.
“Cute?” He scoffs. “I don’t think I’ve been called that since I was a kid. Most people just call me grumpy.”
I lean back in my chair and observe him for a moment. His ‘big, scowly bear’ thing is a persona. Can’t people see that? Anyone could see it if they’d only take a moment to pay attention instead of judging him.
He’s always the first to jump in and help his siblings with their home improvement projects. Whenever a friend needs help moving furniture, he shows up with his truck. He’s hired more staff than he even needs at the hardware store, just to give some of the teenaged guys around town their first jobs. And I won’t even get into all the ways he’s helped Sky and me.
A confession softly drifts from my mouth. “Y’know—I don’t like when people call you grumpy. I’d call you something else.”
He raises a bushy eyebrow at me, finishing his hot cocoa and sitting his mug on the window sill next to mine. “Something like what?”
I scan his handsome face until the butterflies in my tummy become too much. When I can no longer bear the nervous feeling, I get up and grab his thesaurus from the bookshelf.
“Sulky…?” I mumble a few moments later, spinning back to him with the book open in my hand. “Nah. That’s not it,” I decide, flipping through the pages. “Moody…? Petulant…? Broodish…?”
I turn each synonym over in my mind. None of those word choices feels quite right. I scan through the book again.
“Wait—introspective. Yeah, I like that one. Introspective. It suits you.” I lower back into my chair, smiling to myself. I continue reading through the options in the thesaurus. “Thoughtful…Grounded…Steady… Protective …”
Oh, that one hits hard. Protective. I feel it in my chest.
I look up and catch Archer staring. My mind goes blank. With those dark, fervent eyes, the man puts me under a spell.
My gaze drifts around his face, appreciating every one of his features. I love his thick, dark hair. His wide, soft mouth. And his beard. Oh, I love his beard.
“Handsome…” I hear myself say quietly. “So handsome…and sexy…and perfect…”
I’ve never been brave enough to say these words aloud, but I’ve been thinking them for years. And now that they’re finally out in the open, I feel lighter somehow.
Archer’s stare goes even darker as he looks at me. “Is that what you think of me, Belle?” he grits out, his voice so low and rough it makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention.
I catch my bottom lip between my teeth as I nod. “Yes. You’re the most handsome man I know.”
For a long quiet beat, Archer drinks in every inch of my face. “There are a few things I’d like to call you, too,” he rumbles, reaching a large, calloused hand across the table.
“Oh, yeah?” I pause. I stare at his hand before setting my palm in his and letting our fingers intertwine.
“Dazzling…Stunning…Ethereal…” Archer gazes at me, seemingly captivated. “But more than anything, I’d like to call you mine .”
My pulse beats urgently at the base of my throat and my mouth goes dry. Archer wants me. It’s obvious. And I want him just as much. I know it’s wrong, but the hesitancy I’m supposed to feel just isn’t there right now.
Only talking, Layla. We promised each other, only talking tonight . I know we’re entering dangerous territory but deep down, I don’t care.
Yet still, I make one last attempt at being mindful of the line we’ve drawn in the sand. “Maybe…just for tonight…?” I question.
Understanding passes across Archer’s eyes. I’m offering him a compromise of sorts. A halfway point between his convictions and mine.
Conflict burns in his stare—values versus desire—but his lust quickly wins the battle.
“Just for tonight…” he responds with resignation, giving in to the pull between us.
Archer gives my hand a soft tug and I go to him willingly, straddling him in his recliner, my knees bracketing his strong thighs.
He takes my cheeks into his palms and stares into my eyes. I grab unto his wrists like I never want him to let go.
“Irresistible. That’s another good one. Do you know how irresistible you are to me?” His breath is warm as it fans across my jaw. “Right and wrong don’t matter when it comes to you.”
“Oh, Archer…” is all I can whisper.
Gazing into that handsome face, I abandon any lingering bits of hesitancy. We’re adults and if we both agree to tear up the rulebook we’ve written, who’s to stop us?
We both lean in until our lips are touching. I gasp at the electricity the contact generates. Archer growls quietly, hooking one powerful arm around my lower back to drag me closer.
He teases and explores my lips with soft pecks and brushes of his mouth against mine. His kisses quickly manage to get me all worked up. I plaster my body against his and loop my arms around his neck.
When I feel a subtle twitch from inside his pants, I begin to rock my core against his lap. He responds by working his pelvis against my center. It’s not long before he’s as hard as concrete beneath me.
“Fuck…” I hiss out, already turned on beyond reason. “We said ‘just talking’ tonight.” My teeth clamp down on his supple bottom lip, tugging the slightest bit.
Archer’s hips halt on an upward thrust. He cranes his neck backward to catch my eyes. “Do you…” he groans in pain. “Do you want me to stop?”
The look on his face tells me he’d stop in a heartbeat if I asked him to. But he’s praying I don’t ask him to.
I sink down urgently, rubbing my aching core back and forth on his erection as I rake my fingers through his hair. “Keep going, Archer. I want you to keep going.” I angle my pelvis against the seam of his jeans, giving my clit the friction I need.
His shoulders sag with relief. His cheek grazes against mine, the roughness of his beard sending shivers down my spine. “Y’know what? I do wanna talk.”
Surprised, I pull back slightly to stare into his face. “You do?” We’ve already established that Archer isn’t exactly the chatty type.
He nods, a boyish smile on his lips as his hand slips across my ass and under the hem of my sweater dress. “Tell me again what you like about me.” His palm strokes up my back.
I can’t help the wide grin that breaks free when he makes the vulnerable request. My attention bounces around his face and upper body. I like his muscles and his scent and his hard-won smiles. I like his strong hands and his kind heart. I like his intimidating aura as well as the gentle soul hidden beneath. There’s so much I like about this man, I don’t even know where to start.
“I like how big you are.” I drape my arms over his wide shoulders. “You’re friggin’ gigantic. I like wrapping myself around you. You’re like a tree I want to climb.”
There’s laughter in his voice as he lightly scratches his fingernails down my sides, causing the signals to momentarily cross inside my brain. “You can climb me any day, baby. Whenever you want.”
I giggle at the ticklish sensation of his fingernails traveling over my ribs. “I like your eyes, too,” I continue, my tone growing more serious. “They’re so dark and intense. Your stare has always been kind of intimidating to me. But now that I’m finally brave enough to look deeper…” I pause, trying to find the right way to explain the way his stare makes me feel. “You know how they say the eyes are the windows to the soul? A little bit cheesy, I know.”
He chuckles. “Just a little bit cheesy.”
I grin. “When I look deep into your eyes, all I see is the kindness that’s hiding out in the corners of your soul.”
Archer’s eyebrows furrow slightly, but he says nothing. Instead, he leans in for a kiss. Our tongues find each other, engaging in a sensual dance that feels natural.
His hand travels around to the front of my torso. He cups my left breast, flicking his thumb over the thin lace covering my nipple as we kiss.
This. I’ve been missing this. I’ve been needing this . Been fantasizing about it every single night since the first time our lips touched.
The passion. The urgency. The desperation in the way he kisses me.
Soon I’m drowning, my lungs begging for air. My lips break free from his bruising kiss.
I trail a fingertip across his bottom lip as I grind down on his erection. “I really like your lips.”
“Oh, do you?” He gathers the hem of my sweater dress in his hands, slowly pulling the fabric up to expose my torso.
“Yes,” I whimper, lifting my arms and allowing him to rip the garment over my head. “I love the way your lips feel on me.”
Archer unhooks my bra and peels the straps down my arms, letting my breasts bounce free. “Noted.” He cradles my aching globes in his palms, squeezing them together and momentarily burying his face in the valley. “More of my lips on your body, coming right up.”
He begins dotting kisses all over my cleavage before sucking each pointed peak into his mouth in turn.
“Yes, Archer. That feels so good,” I rasp out mindlessly, rolling my hips as my eyeballs spin back in my skull. “I like that thing you’re doing with your tongue. And—ooh!—with your lips. Oh my…Oh…”
Archer just chuckles as his mouth slowly makes its way around my breasts.
“Do you think I’m crazy?” My cheeks flame with a hot blush. “With the way I’m rambling, you probably think I’m crazy.”
“I don’t think you’re crazy. I think you’re fucking incredible, Layla,” he mutters, locking his arms around my back like he’s afraid I might chicken out and run away. “Keep talking to me. Let it all out.”
But now, I’m feeling sort of embarrassed. No matter how turned on I am, spilling the contents of my guts to Archer like this isn’t very ladylike or demure. I bite down on my bottom lip to keep my mouth from running off again.
I’ve never been so vocal about my feelings for a man. But with Archer, this feels safe.
It could be that I’m drunk over the way he’s worshipping my breasts. Or maybe it’s because of the way he’s been showering me with positive affirmations lately.
He flicks his tongue at the seam of my lips. “Don’t go all shy on me, baby. I want your words. Tell me everything.”
From the way his chest is shaking with each ragged breath, I know he needs to hear my praise. He needs every single word of encouragement I have to offer. But my pride and anxiety have taken over, tying my throat into a knot.
Dark irises locked on my face, Archer reaches down and slips a finger under the cotton of my soaking panties, grazing a knuckle over my clit in the process. The touch is so startling—so good—that I can’t help but curve into him.
The corner of his mouth upturns wickedly. “How about my fingers? Do you like my fingers, Belle?” His calloused touch slips through my folds, easily finding my entrance. “Do you like the way it feels when I’m fucking you with my hand?”
“Yes,” I moan.
He thrusts two long, thick digits inside me, and my spine bows sharply, almost snapping in two.
“Yes, Archer,” I say again as he probes deeper, faster. “I like it so much.”
Sparks of pleasure fire through me as he pumps his fingers, his pace increasing.
My body is writhing erratically and I’m making a mess all over his hand. Yet still, my shame has got me in a chokehold. I tuck my face into the curve of his neck so I don’t have to look into his eyes when I begin to come apart.
“Don’t hide from me, Belle.” With his free hand clasping the back of my head, he lifts my face and brings our mouths together. His tongue undulates with mine, creating a rhythm that quickly overpowers my intrusive thoughts.
All of it is so dirty. So delicious. And I already feel the storm gathering low in my belly. My pussy throbs in hot, frantic waves.
Archer breathes against my lips. “Fuck. You’re about to come on my fingers, aren’t you?”
“Yes. Shit. Yes,” I pant, wriggling against his hand.
He leans forward, sucking my nipple between his lips, twirling the bud with his skilled tongue.
And just like that—it’s over for me.
My orgasm arrives in an unexpected rush. My body is squirming erratically and I’m making a mess all over his hand. I lose track of what I’m saying, rambling my praise to Archer as I fall apart on his fingers. He switches to my other breast, letting his lips work my neglected nipple.
I slap my forearm across my mouth, biting into my flesh as I cling to my peak. I hold on for as long as I can.
Then I’m shaking, cold sweat prickling my skin as I recover. Archer holds me patiently, petting the length of my back with soft strokes of his hand.
He tucks his head against my chest, licking at my sternum and breathing me in. “Fucking perfect, these tits.” His warm breath fans across my wet nipple. He strokes his cheek against one sensitive globe and then the next. I nearly go crazy at the friction.
I grasp at the nape of his neck, keeping his face against my tits. “By the way, I really like your beard, too,” I chuckle raspily, stroking the backs of my fingers over his facial hair.
I fully intend to take my time, recovering from the sizzling bolt of electricity that just rocked through me. But Archer has other plans. He’s busy, sliding from his recliner to the carpeted floor, arms banded tightly around my back as he goes.
“What are you doing?” I grin as we land on the floor.
“Since you like my beard so much, how about you ride it for me?” Gripping my hips with his strong hands, Archer maneuvers us so he’s stretched out on his back and I’m hovering over his grinning mouth. “Come here and ride my face.”
“Holy shit.” I tumble forward, my elbows landing on the cushioned seat of the recliner. Archer navigates my panties down my legs and flings them halfway across the room.
Then he lies there, staring up at my exposed pussy, hooded eyes twinkling like the world’s happiest man. “Come on, Belle. Show me why you like my beard so much.”
I’m completely naked, practically squatting above his face. I feel exposed, on display, somewhat defenseless. Yet, I’ve never felt this safe, this free. There’s no one in this world I would feel comfortable doing this with besides Archer.
With two of his fingers, he traces a line over my pussy lips, gathering my dripping arousal. He greedily stuffs his fingers into his mouth, groaning as he sucks off my juices. “Damn, Belle. You look so good right now, and somehow, you taste even better.”
I watch as his tongue reaches out to swipe at my clit. Then he grabs my hips, forcing me to lower onto his mouth.
I shudder and groan his name. “Archer…” A warm burst of my wetness gushes out onto his lips.
I squeak in embarrassment, trying to slam my legs shut. Archer hums gutturally. His fingers squeezing my hips, pulling me closer. His elbows pushing my thighs wider apart. His beard tickling my skin as he licks me once more.
Fuck.
I squirt on his face again.
It’s a wrap for me. Right this minute, I could die of embarrassment. Wiggling my hips, I try to squirm away.
Archer’s eyes lift to mine in warning. Don’t you fucking dare , his heated glare seems to be saying to me.
Flattening his tongue and applying more pressure, he licks me again and again and again. My head is light and dizzy as my arousal gushes out like it never has before.
I stop trying to fight my body’s reaction. My attraction to this man defies all limits and my body won’t let me hide it. So, I hunch forward, burying my face in the seat of the recliner to muffle my moans and pleas as I rock against his eager mouth.
When I hear the sound of a zipper sliding down its track, I glance over my shoulder. Archer eases his erection over the waistband of his boxers, clenching his fingers around the shaft.
Oh my god—the thing is so engorged it looks like it’s going to burst. Long and throbbing, with raging veins and moisture leaking from the tip.
His hips buck subtly as he finds friction in the tight clasp of his fist. It’s so fucking hot, watching him touch himself, turned on like this. For me. For me, of all people.
Archer releases his cock and his hand comes to my throat, sliding up to grip my jaw. He gently guides my focus back to his face. “Eyes on me, beautiful. I need to see your gorgeous face while I eat your gorgeous pussy.”
One languid stroke after another, he licks me, tastes me, drives me crazy. His lips wrap around my clit and he gives a hard suck. It feels so good, my spine snaps straight and I almost fly to the ceiling.
But Archer grabs my ass and seats me fully on his face, holding me there. He sucks on my clit again.
“I can’t…Oh, Archer, I can’t…It’s too much…”
Instead of slowing down, he only adds to the sensation overload. “You can take it, Belle. Take it like a good girl.” Shock flies through my system when he stuffs his two thick fingers back into my quivering hole.
A cry rips from my throat, echoing around the room.
His tongue plays with my clit as his fingers thrust in and out of my entrance. “Ride me, Layla,” Archer practically begs me. “Rub that sweet pussy on my mouth.”
I obey, rolling my hips in a jerky, unsteady motion. The coarse threads of the carpet dig into my knees as my movements grow more and more erratic. The whole time, I’m staring at his handsome face in awe, trying to understand how he’s making all this magic happen between my thighs.
“Come for me, baby. Don’t hold back,” he orders me. His fingertips curl against my G-spot, his tongue undulates against my clit, and I’m done .
My vision goes white as everything inside me contracts. Pleasure catapults through my body, every single nerve ending catching on fire. My lips fall open but not a sound comes out as the violent vibrations of my orgasm move through me.
Archer wipes his face against the sleeve of his shirt. But that doesn’t wipe away his smile.
I slump into his arms, legs straddling his middle, face tucked into his neck, pounding chest plastered to his pounding chest. I’m a mess and so is he.
One strong bicep banded around my back, he presses kisses to the side of my head as his other hand continues to stroke his erection.
“You did so good, Belle. You came so hard on my face. Such a good girl you are.” I hear the pride in his labored breaths. Holy shit—he’s proud of me.
I’m pretty impressed with him as well. Two orgasms. This man gave me two orgasms that blew my mind tonight. Now, I want to make him feel good, too.
I reach down, sliding my fingers over his, guiding his shaft to lay against my core. “I still need you, Archer,” I whine, clenching my upper thighs and engulfing his erection in the wetness and heat of my pussy lips. “I want you naked…” I whisper against his mouth.
I begin undoing all the buttons of his shirt, needing desperately to touch his skin.
“Oh, yeah?” I feel his lips curve into a grin. “Why do you want me naked, Layla?”
I writhe against him, hating that he’s toying with me.
“Tell me, Belle. Use your words. Why do you want me to take off my clothes?” he insists.
“I want your cock,” I breathe out, molars gritted with frustration as I peel his shirt off his shoulders.
“And what do you plan to do once you get my cock?” he prods further.
“Ride it,” I say, delirious at the mere idea of having him inside me. “I want to ride it.”
My god—his body is glorious. Thick shoulders, golden skin, a dusting of dark chest hair. How lucky am I?!
“Fuck, baby. That sounds like a good plan. A really, really good plan.” He groans regretfully. “But we can’t…”
My head shoots up and I stare at him in question.
“I don’t have any condoms in this house,” he explains. “I haven’t needed condoms in, well, years.”
My eyes widen as I hold his gaze. “Y ears ?”
Razor used to tell me that a man couldn’t control himself for more than a few days without sex. That was how he’d justify constantly cheating on me. And now, here’s Archer, telling me a very different story.
He nods, stroking my chin. “Don’t you understand? I haven’t wanted anybody but you, and I haven’t even tried.”
Hearing that only makes me more feral for him. I feel the need to assure him, too. “I haven’t let a man touch me since—”
He cuts me off with an urgent kiss. “Don’t say it. Don’t say his name when you’re naked in my arms. Don’t even think about that asshole right now.”
That’s a request I gladly comply with. I let myself get lost in Archer’s kiss.
“Do you trust me to fuck you bare?” he asks me pointedly when we pull apart. I appreciate his bluntness.
I nod in consent because there’s a boulder sitting on my vocal cords.
“I’ll be careful,” he promises me earnestly.
“I know you will.” I suck in a sharp breath. “I trust you.” Oh, I trust him so much.
Archer eases his hips off the floor and, with me still sitting on his lap, he somehow wrestles his pants and underwear past his ankles. His erection bobs free in the space between our bodies. It’s thick and long and rock-hard, pronounced veins snaking up the length. The mushroom-shaped tip beads with moisture.
I look down at it, my mouth watering. I don’t know how that thing is ever going to fit in my pussy. All I know is, I’m willing to sprain a muscle or displace an organ trying tonight.
Archer grips my waist in one hand, lifting me slightly off his lap. He clutches his shaft in the other.
“You sure about this, right?” he asks me, giving me one last chance to back out.
His words from a few weeks ago return to my mind. Once I kiss these lips, you’re mine, Layla. There’s no going back .
He was right all along. We’ve gone way past kissing, way past the point of return. Who am I kidding? I already belong to Archer Brighton. The sad part is, I don’t know if I’ll ever bring myself to admit it.
I grasp his scruffy cheeks in my hands, looking him directly in the eyes. “I’m sure, Archer. I want you.”
Eyes on me, he angles his erection in the space between my thighs. Breathing hard, I position myself, allowing his crown to notch against my entrance.
With that, Archer’s hips slowly push up off the floor, his crown nudging between my pussy lips and barely breaching my entrance.
His cock is so big, it’s intimidating. I wonder again if my pussy will be able to accommodate him. I hesitate.
Archer seems to notice my trepidation. “I’ll take my time,” he promises me. “I’ll go slow for you. And you’ll tell me if it’s too much.” He lays out a very reasonable game plan.
But then the past however many years flash through my mind. The stolen glances. The restrained smiles. The forced distance. The pent-up longing. It was all building up to this moment. I have no intention of chickening out.
I clench my teeth and sink all the way down in one quick swoop. My eyes bulge in shock as my walls stretch to mold perfectly to his shape and size. A shock of pain floods in from impaling myself too quickly.
But just as quickly, the sensation is swept away by a wave of pleasure. My head falls forward and my ears fill with the sound of Archer’s sensual groan.
He howls with pleasure as his back shoots up off the floor, a concerned expression on his face. “Good god, Layla. Are you okay? Are you trying to hurt yourself?” He cups my cheek in his hand.
I begin to move, slowly sliding my pussy up and down his length.
“Oh my god, Archer. You feel so good.” I hold onto his shoulders as I gingerly gyrate my hips, trying to find my rhythm on his giant cock.
He releases a grunt and I watch as he begins to relax, lying back against the carpet once more. “You look so beautiful on top of me like this.”
My fingertips travel over his broad, strong chest, enjoying his firm muscles and the smattering of hair dusted across his pecs. “Damn, you’re the beautiful one,” I giggle breathlessly.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” He stares at me adoringly as he reaches up to flick a thumb over my nipple. “You’re a fucking masterpiece, Layla. You have no idea how perfect you look on my cock right now.”
I move my hips, gradually picking up speed, clawing at the fibers of the carpet as the pressure between my thighs mounts.
“This feels so good.” I lean forward. When my teeth grate the column of his throat, his arms tighten around me.
“Layla. Fuck.” he breathes out reverently.
My pussy throbs. “Say my name again,” I beg.
He turns his head to look at me, his eyes drunk. His hand cradles my cheek. “Layla,” he repeats. It’s a guttural plea.
I release a moan. “Yeah. The way you say my name. Let’s add that to the list of things I like about you.”
He grins breathlessly. “Dammit—Layla, Layla, Layla. You have no fucking idea what you’re doing to me, pretty girl.”
Continuing to work my hips, I lean in to kiss and lick his throat. I’m on a bit of a power trip. I’ll admit it. I love wielding my tiny bit of newfound power over this powerful man.
Archer’s head drops against the carpet and he groans. “You’re so fucking tight, Layla. Squeezing on me. Keep squeezing my cock, baby. You’re riding me so good. I love how you’re taking all of it in that tight pussy. Fuck.”
His big hands come under my ass, roughly moving me up and down on his cock. My entire body shudders each time he slams me down on his lap. His pelvis works in sync with mine, meeting my every roll with a hard, determined, perfectly-timed thrust.
Just when I think I’m about to lose my mind, Archer flips me over. Without warning, I’m beneath him on the floor. Once he’s in control, he’s effortlessly rising to his feet, my body clutched in his arms like a helpless rag doll.
I knew this man was strong. But the unmistakable display of power in this maneuver is beyond sexy.
His thrusting hips don’t miss a beat as he takes a few steps across the room. He practically throws me on the table and puzzle pieces rain to the floor.
I screech out loud. “But Archer. The puzzle!” I lean over to peek at the wooden jigsaw pieces now scattered at his feet.
Archer hunches over me, face buried in my neck, a pleading tone in his voice as his hips pump relentlessly. “My god, Belle, I’m buried inside you. After all this time. You can’t possibly expect me to give a fuck about the puzzle.”
He steals my attention, hooking my leg over his shoulder and hitting deep inside me, discovering a spot that’s never been touched before.
I groan in pleasure as heat rains through me. I cling to his neck, wondering when the hell I got so flexible and whether I’ll be able to walk tomorrow.
Archer’s fingers grip the edge of the table and he fucks me mercilessly. The old antique rocks and creaks precariously beneath the power of his thrusts.
“Christ—you have to come for me, Layla.” His dark irises flash wildly as we both struggle to maintain eye contact. “You need to come right now. I won’t be able to hold on much longer.”
“Yes. Yes, yes, yes.”
He reaches between us. The pad of his thumb strikes my clit like a match.
And explosions go off inside my body.
I cry out his name, my fingernails digging into his shoulders as I fall apart yet again. As the shudders of my orgasm pulse through me, Archer urgently removes his steely manhood from the grip of my pussy. With an animalistic growl, his release washes over my skin, painting my torso with warm, thick ropes of come.
When he’s finally done emptying all over me, Archer falls forward, his forearms braced on the table and his mouth hovering over mine. Our lips are only inches apart. I lean up and close the distance in a breathless kiss.
“My god, Layla,” he mutters, fighting for air.
I lie there beneath him, depleted, exposed, blissfully happy as I kiss him again and again.
My mind eases into a satiated state I’m not used to. My knuckles tenderly stroke his cheek as we make out. “Fuck it—I like everything about you, Archer Brighton.” I love you.
Startled by the thought, I jerk backward.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his finger chasing a bead of sweat down my temple.
All I can do is nod because my brain is too overwhelmed for words right now.
I love him.
I’m in love with him.
It’s too late to do one damn thing about it.
Archer is backing away from me, one unsure footstep at a time. “Give me a minute.”
Too worn-out to move, I crane my neck to watch his muscular ass as he turns and disappears into the bathroom.
I hear water running in the sink and I do my best to take deep breaths instead of letting my anxiety take over. A moment later, he’s back with a warm rag, wordlessly sponging his release off my belly and toweling me clean between the legs. Then he snatches his discarded shirt off the floor, draping it around my shoulders.
The worried expression lingers on Archer’s face as he silently scoops me off the table and carries me over to the couch, jigsaw pieces stuck to my ass. He wedges his body behind mine, pulling a quilt over us and a wobbly sort of relief settles over me. At least he’s not running, right?
I lie there, lips sealed, shocked still by everything that just transpired. Archer tucks his chin into the curve of my neck, staring into the fireplace. I can feel the frantic energy of his buzzing thoughts as they race through his brain.
“I’ve never felt anything like that in my entire fucking life,” he mutters into the air, and I hear the slight note of worry in his voice.
A sick feeling of panic rises within me. “Neither have I.”
That’s concerning. Because didn’t we just agree that this would be a one-time thing? So why does this connection feel like something I’ll need every day for the rest of my life?
What the hell have we gotten ourselves into?