Chapter 31 #2
With shallow breaths and shaky hands, I tentatively trail my fingers up his arms until I reach his neck. A small sob breaks out of me when I close the last inch and touch his small hoop earrings.
“Archer,” I say in a raspy voice.
“Yes, fuck,” he growls and presses in closer to me. “It’s me. Just me.”
Trying to shake my head, I want to tell him it’s never just been him.
It has always been him.
Even when I had never seen his face or heard his voice, it was still him.
Not able to find my voice through the tumultuous emotions, I opt for what feels like the best option at this moment.
My grip around his neck tightens, and I close the small distance between us, slamming our lips together. It’s a clumsy attempt, bumping our noses together and clashing teeth.
But it’s real—it’s Archer.
I hang on to every sensation of him until I’m drowning in his presence.
The taste of his tongue as it slips into my mouth, dancing with my own.
His strong hands are on me, one still tangled in my hair, the other slowly moving from my waist down to my hip and gripping tightly.
His familiar musky scent is so much stronger when my body is tangled around him.
Even the short, coarse texture of his beard rubbing against my palms anchors me to this moment.
Anything that isn’t my vision to depend on.
One of my legs lifts, cautiously finding purchase around his hip.
With a deep, masculine groan, his hand holding my hip slides down to the back of my thigh as he pulls me closer, demanding more.
The kiss grows in intensity as he roughly bites my bottom lip before softly licking where his teeth were moments before.
There’s a faint warning blaring in the back of my mind.
For once, I ignore it and don’t let guilt eat me.
I fall into the moment, enjoying each swipe of his tongue and flex of his hands on my body.
We kiss with reckless abandon, and it’s more liberating than any adventure to the city or motorcycle ride could ever be.
Archer pulls away from my mouth, taking a needy moan with him. He moves his lips down my throat, leaving a burning trail in their wake.
I take the opportunity to wrap myself further around him. With one hand holding onto the shelf above me and the other clinging tightly to his shoulders, I lift my other leg. Immediately, his hand untangles from my hair and roughly pulls my thigh up to settle on his waist.
“Archer,” I whimper as he sucks on my neck and trails his fingers up my bare leg and silk-covered side.
He uses his nose to nudge my sweater down my shoulder before his hand grabs my small breast. I’ve never been insecure about my body, but I never thought it was something to write home about either. He changes that in a second.
The moment his fingers find my peaked nipple and give it a hard, dominating squeeze, both of our hips buck. Another moan breaks out when he’s so close to where I need him, but not quite there either.
“You’re fucking perfect,” he says between kisses along my collarbone. “I’ve thought about what you would look like wrapped around me a million times. Exactly like this, desperate and agreeable.”
I can feel his smirk on my skin. He’s made me practically delirious that a soft chuckle slips out of me.
It’s short-lived, fading to the back of my mind as he bites my lower neck and kneads my breast harder. My wanton hips thrust, but with my limited range of motion, I’m desperate for more.
“Archer, please,” I beg. “I need…”
The words are right there but I can’t bring myself to say them. It will change everything for me once I admit how I feel about him. How I can’t imagine losing him after a decade of believing I’d never have him to begin with.
Now I’ll know what it’s like to have had him and lost him—and this already hurts immensely more than anything before.
He pulls back swiftly and looks me in the eye. One of his hands moves to hold mine in place where it’s holding the shelf, and the other pushes my hips back until there’s only a ghost of a touch between my legs.
“Say it,” he huskily demands. “Don’t fight this, Renata. Just for tonight—let us have this.”
Taking a few deep breaths, I watch the desperation cloud his features.
“I need more,” I whisper and tilt my chin up, trying to catch his lips again. “I need you, Archer.”
My words are his undoing, reminding me of what he called me the night on Gale’s porch.
My great undoing, he mused.
It’s only raw desire between us after that moment.
My legs tighten around his waist, and I use the hand on the shelf to get a better angle as I move along his thick length. Even covered by his jeans, it’s enough to send me into another dimension. One where it really is only the two of us and my growing orgasm.
Both of his hands are on my hips now, keeping them in rhythm with his own carnal thrusts. His groans are as feral and desperate as the sounds falling from my own lips.
With each drag of his cock along my wet heat, I’m positive I’m making a mess on the front of his pants. I can’t find it in myself to care.
Not when I’m so close.
“Fuck,” he grunts and stares at us, watching the way my panties stretch along my center with each thrust. “Fuck.”
In a swift motion, he slips one of his arms under my thigh and grabs onto the shelf behind me. It’s a completely different angle now, one that presses him directly on my clit.
“Oh, oh,” I pant, nearly feral as I’m brought to the precipice of my pleasure.
“That’s it, love,” he groans and picks up speed. Each thrust is clumsier than the last. “Come for me. I want to see how pretty you look when you do.”
All inhibitions gone, I give him what he wants, rubbing myself against him while his name falls from my lips.
It goes on for minutes, but as I’m about to come down, he leans down and takes my covered nipple into his mouth and bites hard.
Another smaller orgasm rolls through me as he lightly sucks, turning the pain into pleasure.
My hand drops from the shelf and I wrap fully around him, relaxed in his arms as he uses me to find his own pleasure.
When he tenses against me and lets out the deepest, sexiest groan I’ve ever heard, I know he’s coming. I watch with fascination, imagining what it would be like if there weren’t layers of clothes between us.
It takes both of us a couple of minutes to catch our breaths, not bothering to untangle from each other. Eventually, he reluctantly lowers the leg he’s holding and makes sure I’m balanced before I release the one around his hips.
Silently, he fixes my nightgown and sweater before grabbing a few tissues off the nearby desk.
He’s soft and hesitant when he reaches toward my center, wiping me off, but turns away from me to clean his own mess.
There aren’t any more words spoken between us, and I’m thankful he doesn’t push to talk about what happened.
He holds my hand as we walk out of the aisle toward the stairs.
Remembering why we came, I’m about to ask about the books when the loud smack of a book hitting the cement rings out from behind me.
Flinching out of Archer’s hold, I quickly turn and look around the low lit room.
“Hey,” he murmurs and steps into my field of vision. “Whatever you’re seeing, it’s not real.”
“I didn’t see anything. I thought I heard a book fall,” I say quietly.
“Nothing fell.” The amount of patience in his voice is comforting because I’m beginning to feel annoyed with myself now.
“Can we leave?” I ask.
He nods and takes my hand, not letting go again.
I’d never admit this to him, but the ride home made me feel better. The cold air seeped through the heat charm, but I found comfort in the sharp bite of it.
It gave me a moment to let the tears fall and float away. Even if Archer suspected I was crying, I would be able to blame it on the slap of the freezing wind.
Aware that it could be the last time I did a lot of things, like riding on the back of his motorcycle, I didn’t want to end the night with him having to comfort me.
It is clear to me now: as selfish as it may be, having this one night with him would be worth the pain that is to come with the curse.
Now that we’re standing outside my bedroom door, my teeth are lightly chattering and I’m still biting back tears.
He’s watching me, unsure of what to do now that we’re back in the confines of the inn.
Breaking the silence, I ask, “Was there anything you actually wanted to show me?”
He bites back a smile and shrugs. “There were books I could have shown you.”
Rolling my eyes, I shake my head and look away, not wanting him to see the amusement in my eyes. Feeling his gaze on me, I avoid meeting his eye and stare down the dark, long hallway.
“Can we talk tomorrow?” he asks in a low whisper.
I open my mouth, trying to find the words, before closing it again. My shoulders drop and I wrap my arms around myself, defeated.
He lets out a sigh and shakes his head in disappointment, but there’s not an ounce of surprise.
Without another word, I turn on my heel and lock myself in my room.
Quickly, I make sure the window is open for Hexate, and I crawl into bed.
Sleep begins to tug at me as the full moon begins to lower but I don’t let myself succumb to it. Finding Archer in my dreams would be the best outcome after tonight but I don’t expect him to find me after I left him in the hallway.
I lay in bed, silent tears periodically slipping down my cheeks. My mind bounces between the memory of Archer’s body against mine and the worrying fact that Petra had an emotional, maybe intimate, moment with someone in that very room a hundred years ago.
Someone who was not her husband.