15. You’ll Think of Me, Little Dove
CHAPTER 15
YOU’LL THINK OF ME, LITTLE DOVE
Paloma
I pick up one pillow, and then the other, tossing them both to the foot of the bed. My crystal swan is gone. The last time I saw, it was right here. I climb on the mattress and peek behind it. Did Gardenia take it just to mess with me one last time before she left? Well, now it’s too late to ask. Archer’s family left a few moments ago.
A shiver runs down my spine at the thought of being all alone with Archer. I gave up asking if I can see Dad. By now, I know he one hundred percent meant it when he said he doesn’t want to share me with the world. Early this afternoon, when I crossed the foyer to get to the kitchen, I waved hello to one of the construction workers working on the second floor of the east wing. Archer completely lost it. So what if I smiled at a stranger? It’s not a sin. He didn’t have to fire that guy over it, and then, yell at me about how he already told me that part of that house is off-limits to me. A forbidden wing—it makes no sense at all, but I can’t worry about that right now. I need to find my crystal swan.
I plop myself on the bed and try to remember if maybe I moved it somewhere else. But there’s no way I put it away and then forgot. The swan has become my home. For some reason when I hold it, I think of Archer. Sometimes when the firelight hits it just right, a few of the facets shine blue just like his eyes.
Hitting the bed with my fist, I jump to my feet, determined to find it. I head out to look for Mary Jane. Maybe she dropped it when she was making the bed and it broke. If that’s the case, it can be fixed. I just want it back. It’s mine. It’s the only thing in this whole house that is truly mine.
When I reach the foyer, I spot Mary Jane leaving the study. “Hi.” I wave at her.
She beams at me, probably because most days I never leave my room. Though every day she begs me to go out and get some fresh air. I want to, and one of these days I will, but right now I need to find the crystal.
“Good evening, Mrs. Archer. Would you be dining with Mr. Archer tonight?” she asks hopeful.
“No, thanks.” I shake my head.
For days, he’s been leaving me invitations under the door. Today, is the first day he didn’t leave one. Now that his family is gone, he’s done pretending to be a nice guy. Or what did Gardenia call him? Kind and fun? Please. He’s a beast.
“I will bring your tray up shortly then.” She smiles, then turns to leave.
“Mary Jane,” I call after her. When she turns to face me, I continue, “I’m sorry to ask. Did you by chance find a small crystal swan. It’s about the size of my hand.” I make a fist to show her. “I keep it by my bed. But it’s gone. It’s been gone for a few days actually.”
“I do know which figurine you mean. Last I saw it was on your writing desk. I can ask the girls and see if maybe they saw it when they changed the sheets,” she offers.
“Thank you. That would be great.”
“Is that all?” she asks.
“Yes. I’m sorry to bother you.” I wave my hand in dismissal.
“No bother at all.” She does a quick bow and heads for the dining room.
When I lift my gaze, Archer dips his head at me from his study. He leans on the doorframe and openly ogles me. I purse my lips and dart for the stairs. I enter my room with my heart pumping so hard, I feel like I’m going to pass out. What is wrong with me? Archer didn’t even say a word to me. In fact, he hasn’t spoken to me since the last time I ran into him in the kitchen.
He was gloriously half naked again. I swear in the month since I got here, he’s gotten bigger. The first time I saw him, he put on his T-shirt right away, so I didn’t get a good look at him. Though I have to admit, those abs and the way that v muscle disappears into his waistband are tattooed in my mind’s eye.
But this last time, I got a view of his back. It’s gorgeous, of course, but it’s also covered in scars, long tendrils that go from the nape of his neck down to his waist on his left side. What happened to him? What kind of accident leaves that kind of mark on someone his size?
A soft knock on the door brings me back to reality. I jump out of bed and go to open it.
“Your dinner.” Mary Jane beams at me.
“Already?” I turn to look at the clock over the mantle. Did I just sit in bed thinking of Archer for a whole hour? Jesus. “Um, I mean, thank you. I’m starving.”
“I’ll just leave it here.” She sets the tray on the writing desk.
I stand back as she goes through the process of laying out a place setting. I’ve taken most of my meals in this room for a month, while Mary Jane watches me eat like I’m some kind of willful child. I don’t blame her for it. She has strict orders from the all-powerful Archer not to leave my room until I’ve eaten.
“You don’t have to stay,” I tell her when she pulls out the desk chair. “Please.”
“He’s worried about you.” She clasps her hands in front of her.
“Do you agree that he should be? I’m not starving myself.” I brace my hands on my hips. “I feel like a prisoner when you stand there watching me like that.”
She glances up for a beat. “Alright. But please do eat.”
“I will.” I walk past her and open the door. “You can come get the tray in forty minutes.”
“Okay.” She does her usual subtle nod and leaves.
“Take that Mr. Archer,” I say to the closed door.
If he wants to know if I ate or not, he’s going to have to come here in person and ask me himself. At least before, he was talking to me. Now he just pretends like I don’t exist. He doesn’t even send me dinner invitations anymore. Oddly enough, rejecting him quickly became the highlight of my day.
I sit down to eat. By the third bite of chicken and veggies, my mind goes back to trying to figure out what happened to my swan. As I chew, an idea forms in my head. Mary Jane won’t return for another forty minutes. She’ll be downstairs handling Archer’s usual three-course meal. I quickly finish the rest of my dinner and finish in five minutes flat. I hop to my feet and head out before I lose my resolve.
With my heart drumming in my throat, I stop at the landing and glance up to the third floor, Archer’s floor. If he took my swan, I’m sure he would keep it in his room. And I have to know. Being here all alone, I feel like I’m going insane. I can’t be misplacing my things.
With another look toward the main floor, I dart upstairs. I’m still looking behind me, with the odd feeling that I’m being chased, that I don’t see Archer until I run head on into his chest. He grips both my arms. And I swear I can taste the danger in the air.
“Why are you here?” His voice echoes across the wide hall. “I told you you’re not allowed on this floor. What are you doing?” he asks as if I’m his worst enemy and not his wife.
“Let me go.” I yank my arm free.
In my trepidation, I can’t even think of an answer. I bolt without looking back. His laugh makes me stop in my tracks. Slowly, as my stomach drops, I figure out what he finds so amusing. I ran straight into his suite.
The room is easily twice the size of mine with a balcony that stretches the length of the wall. Instead of double French doors like the ones I have, he has floor-to-ceiling windows that frame the snow-covered grounds beautifully.
Behind me, a fire roars in a massive fireplace that casts a glow over the huge four poster bed. It has to be custom-made to be bigger than a California king size mattress. The door slams. I startle and turn to face him.
He stalks toward me, and I don’t miss the hunger in his eyes. “Well, Little Dove, what exactly are you looking for in my suite?”
I shake my head. He takes another step, and his whiskey-scented breath lingers between us.
“You’re supposed to be eating dinner.” I take in deep breaths.
“I wasn’t hungry.” He picks up a strand of my hair off my shoulder, letting the curl tip wrap around his finger. “Not for food anyway.”
“You’re drunk.” I slap his hand away.
“So?” He furrows his brows as his meets my gaze. “Last I checked, this is my fucking house. And since my wife...” He points at me. “...won’t even eat dinner with me, what’s the point? Food or booze is all the same.”
“Go to bed, Archer,” I say with all the bravado I can muster and side-step him.
But even as inebriated as he is, he’s too fast for me. He wraps his arms around me and picks me off the floor. Burying his nose in my hair, he asks, “Maybe this is what you came for, hmmm? Wife?”
“No.” I shake my head and blurt out, “I came looking for my crystal swan.”
He tenses behind me, but he doesn’t let me go. “Your swan,” he says through gritted teeth. “You miss your swan.” He lets my body slide down his front.
When my feet touch the cold floor, I immediately turn to face him, putting my chin in the air in defiance. I refuse to fear him. He can’t bully me like this. I scan the room as I consider what would be the best way to get away from him. I know better than to run at this point. The way he’s looking at me, like a wounded animal, I have no doubt he would give chase.
“If you have it, give it back.” I steel my back. “Why would you take it?”
“Why?” He closes the spaces between us. “Because I know he gave it to you. Because I can’t stand that you want to take it to your bed. Why? So you can pretend he’s there with you?”
“What?” I squint at him. “He? Who are you talking about?”
“Your ex-boyfriend,” he says with murder in his tone.
“Don’t tell me you’re jealous of Hunter.” I scoff. “You barely look at me. Or talk to me. You treat me like a prisoner one minute and your worst enemy the next.”
“Maybe I am jealous.” He reaches into the pocket of his trousers and produces the crystal swan. “You cherish this figurine simply because he gave it to you.”
He’s right. I do cherish it. But not for the reasons he thinks. I hadn’t thought of that swan until the day it showed up in my dressing room. That night, Archer paid for me. In my mind, the swan is my only link to Archer.
“Give it back. I’ll promise never to set foot on your floor again.” I put out my hand.
Slowly, he places it in my hand and then proceeds to loosen his tie. He pulls on the silk fabric until the whole knot unravels. I stand there transfixed by his features and that smug smile of his. Watching him get undressed is like an erotic dream. He undoes the first three buttons of his dress-shirt, then shoulders his suit jacket off.
“I’m sorry. I’ll go now.” I swallow and wait for him to tell me to get out.
But instead, he rolls up his sleeves, his hungry gaze never leaving mine. He slides the tie off his neck next and runs a loop with it over his wrist. I should be leaving, but I’m too enthralled with his calculated moves to do the smart thing and run. In a swift motion, he pulls at the fabric and ends up with two loops resembling a set of cuffs.
I let him grab my hand. My head swims at his touch. I don’t object, even when he walks me back toward his four-poster bed, places my wrists around the post, and secures me to it with his tie.
“You got what you wanted.” His gaze burns into mine. “Now it’s my turn.”
“What?” I pant a breath.
“If I can’t have you, at least I’d like to see what I paid for.” He brushes the back of his fingers to my cheek, and my eyes flutter closed. “I think that’s fair. Don’t you think, Wife?”
“Don’t.” I move my face away from him.
He easily tears through the buttons of my silk blouse. What little fabric remains, he leaves it to hang over my shoulders. My whole-body quavers as he devours me with his eyes, taking in every inch of me. He undoes the button and zipper on my jeans and slides his hand inside my panties.
“Fuck.” He sucks in a breath. “You’re so wet.”
A second later, his mouth covers mine in a desperate kiss. I want him so badly. But he’s made it so I can’t move or run my hands over his body. All I’m allowed to do is yield to his demanding tongue.
I don’t know what he wants from me. And I hate that my body is ready to give him whatever he wants.
“Archer,” I plea when he pulls away.
“I want to see what I paid for.” With a quick snap of his fingers, he undoes my strapless bra and I fall to the floor. His gaze hovers over my puckered nipples for several beats before he hooks his thumbs over the waistband of my jeans and pulls them down to my thighs. In this position, I’m completely vulnerable and exposed. I can’t fight him. Even if I wanted to.
“So beautiful.” He fondles my breasts, rolling my taut buds with his thumb. “All mine.”
“Please.” I mean to say let me go , but the words die on my lips.
A smirk pulls on his lips as he slides the head of the swan over my mouth. “Suck,” he orders.
“What?” I start to say, but he pushes the head and the long neck past my teeth. I fasten my mouth around it and suck tentatively. I stare at him with big eyes, but I don’t stop.
“Good girl.” He slowly pulls it out, then rubs the wet head over my nipples.
I let my head fall back until it hits the bed post. My body trembles in anticipation. This is not how it’s supposed to be. Why should he bend me to his will, keep me here exposed for him to do as he pleases, while he stands there fully dressed and absolutely one hundred percent in control?
Any minute now, he’ll change his mind and leave me hanging like all those other times. He’ll insist that our marriage isn’t real, and then, he’ll go back to ignoring me while I have to live with the sting of his rejection.
“Please stop,” I beg him.
“Not until I get what I want.” He steps in and slides the wet head of the swan into my folds.
“Hmm.” I squeeze my eyes shut, pressing my lips together.
“Now every time you see his gift, you’ll think of me, Little Dove.” He sucks on the cord of my neck. “I want to see you come. You’re not leaving my room, until I watch you fall to pieces in front of me.”
I shake my head.
I start to explain to him that I can’t just orgasm because he says so, but then he grinds the slick crystal up and down my slit, drawing circles around my needy bud, and I want to come for him.
“Stop it.” I jerk my hips away from him. “You’re only doing this to humiliate me. Why do you hate me?”
“I don’t hate you.” He grips the hair at the nape of my neck and pulls down, so I’m forced to look up at him. “I should. But I don’t.”
He swipes the figurine along my pussy again. My hips betray me and meet his hand halfway. I catch on to his rhythm. And then I’m chasing the release he offers. Closing my eyes, I surrender to him. He rewards me by sucking hard on my nipples. My desire mounts, and mounts, until it reaches a crescendo that’s both unbearable and pure ecstasy.
“Finish it,” he commands.
“Archer?” My eyes fly open.
He shuffles back only an inch so I can see where his hand holds the swan. He wants me to do this to myself. Sure, I’ve done exactly this many times before. But never in front of anyone. Especially never in front of him.
I stand there, panting a breath, knowing my choices are to rub myself until I come. Or spend the night tied to his bed. Because one thing is for sure, he won’t let me go until, like he said, he watches me fall to pieces.
Lust sparks at my core and shoots into my chest, making my pebbled nipples tingle. I want his mouth on me again. But he’s done with me. He’s in control and determined not to let things go too far between us. But I have to finish. My clit screams in agony, egging me on to give it just a little of what it wants.
I stand on my tiptoes and rub against his hand.
“That’s my girl.” He rewards me by squeezing both my breasts.
Sweat beads down my back while I awkwardly give it another try. It feels too good. My chest lifts with every frayed breath. I roll my hips, carefully writhing against it.
“You’re so fucking perfect.” He kisses my cheek.
By now, he holds most of my weight as I ride his hand gripping the swan. He doesn’t interfere in any way, no more kissing or touching. He simply watches with absolute reverence as if me coming right here, right now is the most important thing in the world. As if I am the most important thing.
“Let it go, Little Dove.”
I do.
Stars burst into a kaleidoscope of shapes and colors behind my eyelids. The orgasm burns through me, leaving nothing but devastation in its path. It’s relentless as it cuts through all my defenses and bit by bit, I fall apart in his arms.
“So good.” He releases me from my binding.
My legs are jelly at this point. I drop, but he catches me before I hit the floor. A wave of ecstasy lingers at my core as he scoops me into his arms. My cheek lands on the bit of his exposed skin, and I melt into him. I’m floating, still riding the high even though he already took the swan away.
I lift my head as he takes the stairs down to the second level. He’s taking me back to my room. I should object. But what can I expect? That just because I let him do all those things to me, he would change his mind about what I am to him?
Wife.
His word echoes in my head.
I want to fight him, push him away, and tell him I don’t need his help. But there’s no point. The all-powerful Mr. Archer get whatever he wants. I let him carry me to my bed. Once I’m on top of the covers, he removes my shoes and my jeans. And then it hits me. He brought me here without my top.
“Get under the covers.” He lifts the duvet. “I want you to sleep like this. Naked. Do you understand?”
I nod and do as he says, too tired to argue with him. As soon as my head lands on the soft pillow, I doze off. My eyes flutter open, then they close, and then, I’m in my favorite dream—the one where Archer guards my sleep, filling all the empty spaces in my room with his raw energy.
“Stay away from me, Little Dove.” His hand hovers over my cheek. “I’m exactly the monster you think I am.”
“You’re not a monster.” I turn on my side, curling my body toward the edge of the mattress. When I glance up at him, he’s gone.
I sit up, my heart racing.
I look to every corner, but all I find are shadows that don’t match his. Did I dream the whole thing? I squeeze my legs together, and my overly sensitive bud reacts as if it’s ready for another round. I peek at the nightstand and all the colors dancing on the facets of the crystal swan. Tears roll down my cheeks.
Archer is real. Just like his resolution to stay away from me.
“I’m your wife, you idiot.” I punch the pillow next to me. “I’m not your enemy.”