Chapter 15
15
LILY
I ’m too wired to even consider sleep. My lips still tingle from Hunter’s kiss, and my mind keeps replaying the confrontation with James. What a damn mess. I’ve somehow managed to get entangled with not one but three impossibly attractive men in the span of two days. And the storm outside keeps howling like it’s enjoying my predicament.
A soft knock at my door freezes me mid-step. My heart performs an Olympic-level gymnastics routine in my chest. Hunter? After our kiss. Or James? Has he come to explain himself further? To apologize for the deception? I’m not ready for round two of that emotional roller coaster—not when I’m still sorting through the complicated feelings his revelation stirred up.
Thor’s head pops up, sniffs the air, then plops back down, confirming it’s not a danger.
I don’t answer the knock, hoping whoever it is will assume I’m asleep and go away. I’ve hit my quota of drama for one night, thank you very much.
“Lily? You still breathing in there, or did Hunter’s kiss actually kill you?” Archer’s voice, playful yet somehow concerned, filters through the door.
I smirk to myself, warmth curling in my chest. Archer always makes things feel lighter, as though I’m not drowning in the mess of my own emotions. With him, it’s easy to breathe—even when my world is anything but.
I don’t hesitate and move quickly toward the door, cracking it open just enough to peek through.
“If I say I’m dead, will you go away?” I tease.
My breath locks in my lungs at the sight of him. Archer stands with one hand propped against the doorframe, his tall frame backlit by the dim hallway lights. The shadows dance across the sharp angles of his face, highlighting those ridiculous cheekbones. His brown hair, which looks like it would be silk between my fingers, falls even more messily around his face.
I’ve dated attractive men before, but Archer belongs in another category entirely—the kind of beauty that’s almost painful to look at directly, like staring at the sun after being in a cave. His black V-neck stretches across broad shoulders, and even in the dim light, I can see the definition of muscle under the fabric. A silver chain glints at his throat, disappearing beneath his collar.
“Hi,” I manage.
“Just making sure you didn’t spontaneously combust from all that... tension downstairs,” he says, the corners of his mouth lifting. “You bolted out of there like your ass was on fire.”
“Yeah, well, finding out your texting buddy was in prison while you were spilling your guts to him, followed by straddling and making out with his friend... let’s just say my night’s been more eventful than my entire last year,” I reply, leaning against the frame. “I should start charging admission to the disaster that is my life.”
Archer’s eyebrow quirks up. “I’d pay to watch. Seriously though, you okay? James can be a real piece of work sometimes.”
“Define okay .” I laugh, the sound slightly unhinged even to my own ears. “I’m trapped in a snowstorm with three men who look like they walked out of some romance novel cover shoot. I mean, do you guys moisturize with unicorn tears or something? One of whom I’ve been secretly crushing on for weeks despite never having met him, another whose kiss nearly made me forget my own name, and then there’s you—” I cut myself off, realizing I’m rambling like a lunatic.
“There’s me,” he repeats, taking a small step closer. “What about me, Lily?”
The bourbon is still humming in my veins, making me bolder than I should be. “You’re the one who insisted Hunter and I kiss. Was that your twisted plan all along? Or do you just enjoy watching?”
“My plan?” He raises an eyebrow. “I assure you, I don’t usually play matchmaker for Hunter. Man gets plenty of action without my help.” He leans in slightly, close enough that I can smell his cologne—something woodsy with a hint of spice. “And for the record, I much prefer participating to watching.”
“Could have fooled me,” I retort, but I’m smiling now, too, despite myself. There’s something about Archer that lures me to him, even as he sets my nerves on fire. “And what was with the impromptu strip show? A warning would have been nice. I wasn’t prepared to see... all of that.”
He laughs, the sound rich and warm, spreading through me like honey. “You dared me to take off my pants. I took off my pants. I’m a man of simple logic.” His gaze glitters with unrepentant devilry. “And I never pass up an opportunity to make a memorable impression. Judging by how red you turned, mission accomplished.”
“Mission traumatized,” I mutter, fighting a grin. “I’ll need therapy for years. Possibly decades.”
“Liar,” he states softly, leaning in just slightly. “You liked what you saw. Your eyes did this thing,”—he widens his own eyes in an exaggerated expression of shock that morphs into appreciation—“before you pretended to be horrified.”
Heat floods my cheeks, but I refuse to back down. “You seem very confident for someone who might have caused me psychological damage.”
“Oh, I’m always confident,” he says with a grin that should come with a warning label. “It’s part of my charm. That, and my big?—”
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” I interrupt, holding up a finger.
“—heart,” he finishes innocently. “What did you think I was going to say?”
“Nothing gentlemanly, that’s for sure.”
My pulse stumbles, betraying me. The teasing should be easy to brush off—I’ve handled his shameless flirting before—but there’s something different this time. Fire lingers in his gaze, a challenge, a promise. My breath catches for half a second before I force myself to roll my eyes, pretending I’m not affected. But my body knows the truth. And so does he.
“Guilty as charged.” His gaze drops to my lips momentarily. “It was hard, you know.”
“What was?” I ask, embarrassingly breathy.
“Watching you kiss Hunter,” he admits, his playful tone giving way to something more serious. “When it’s all I’ve been thinking about since our almost-moment in the study earlier.” He shifts his weight, moving imperceptibly closer. “You know, when you were practically undressing me with your eyes while we used the radio.”
“I was not,” I sputter, then see the gleam in his expression. “You’re insufferable.”
“So, I’ve been told. Usually right before I’m told how irresistible I am.”
“Don’t hold your breath for that second part,” I say.
“Well,” I say lightly. “Maybe it wasn’t meant to be. Me and Hunter, I mean.”
“I doubt that,” Archer murmurs, and suddenly, he seems much closer, though I don’t recall him moving. “I don’t believe in coincidences, Lily. You showing up here, during this storm... it feels like fate with us three. Like the universe was tired of watching us stumble around separately and decided to lock us all in together until we figured it out.”
“Fate?” I gnaw on my lower lip, trying to maintain my composure despite the heat building low in my belly. “That’s quite the line. Do you practice these in front of a mirror, or do they just come to you in the moment?”
“Not a line,” he says, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers brush my cheek, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. “Just a feeling I’ve had since you walked through the door. Like you were meant to be here.” His voice drops to a near whisper. “With us.”
I should step back. I should close the door and get my head on straight. Instead, I ask, “And what else do you feel?”
His eyes darken, pupils expanding to nearly swallow the blue. “That if I don’t kiss you soon, I might go a little insane.” He traces the curve of my jaw with his thumb. “Or a lot insane. I’m already halfway there just looking at you.”
My body betrays me, a rush of warmth flooding through me at his words. It’s complete madness—I’ve known this man for all of two days, just kissed his friend less than an hour ago, and am nursing a broken heart over another man’s deception. Yet I’m drawn to him like a moth to the flame, unable to resist the gravitational pull of his presence.
“That would be a terrible idea,” I whisper, even as I shift my weight slightly forward.
“The worst,” he agrees, his gaze locked on my lips. “Completely irresponsible.”
“Reckless,” I add.
“Absolutely.” His hand comes up to cup my cheek, thumb brushing across my lower lip. “May I come in, Lily? Or would you prefer to give the hallway a show?”
The simple question, asked with such restraint when everything about his body language screams desire, breaks something loose in me. I step back, grabbing a fistful of his shirt, and pull him into my room.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he murmurs as he kicks the door closed behind him.
In an instant, I’m pressed against the wall beside the door, Archer’s body a solid wall of heat against mine. His hands frame my face as he studies me for one breathless moment.
“You’re stunning,” he murmurs, his thumbs tracing my cheekbones. “Like, unreasonably beautiful, a scent that fogs my brain, and a wit that challenges me. It’s actually annoying. Do you have any idea what you do to me?”
Before I can respond with something appropriately snarky, his lips are on mine, and whatever witty retort I might have made dissolves into a soft gasp. If Hunter’s kiss was a tide pulling me under, Archer’s is like being struck by lightning—sudden, electric, and consuming.
His lips are firm and insistent, claiming rather than asking. One hand slides into my hair, tugging just enough to tilt my head back farther, deepening the kiss with a groan that vibrates through both our bodies. My hands clutch at his shoulders, feeling the coiled strength under the fabric of his shirt.
When his tongue sweeps across my lower lip, I open to him without hesitation. He tastes of whiskey and something darker, something uniquely him that makes me crave more.
His hands move from my face to my waist, then lower, gripping my hips and pulling me tighter against him. He holds me harshly, possessively, and the realization of him longing for me draws a soft moan from my throat.
In one fluid motion, Archer lifts me, hands gripping the backs of my thighs as he presses me more firmly against the wall. My legs wrap around his waist instinctively. I roll my hips against him, drawing a sharp inhale from him.
“Fuck, Lily,” he breathes against my lips. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
“At least you’ll die happy,” I quip, breathless and dizzy with desire.
He chuckles, the sound dark and promising, before capturing my lips again in a kiss that’s somehow even more intense than before. His hands knead my thighs, fingers digging in just enough to make me gasp, and I grind shamelessly against him, chasing the delicious friction.
His lips leave mine to trail along my jaw, then down my neck, finding a spot just below my ear that makes me whimper. He lingers there, alternating between gentle bites and soothing swipes of his tongue that have me arching against him, fingers tangled in his hair.
“I need to taste more of you. Need to know if you’re this delicious everywhere.”
The words send a fresh wave of heat through me, pooling low in my belly and making me throb with want. When our mouths meet again, the kiss is hungry, almost desperate. His tongue strokes against mine in a way that replicates what he wants to do to me, and I tighten my legs around him involuntarily.
Archer carries me from the wall to the bed, never breaking the kiss. He lowers me gently onto the mattress, following me down until he’s hovering above me, his weight supported on his forearms. His hair falls around my face like a curtain.
Thor hops off the bed and trots right next to the door, where he flops down and falls back asleep..
Archer’s body fits perfectly against mine, his hips nestled between my thighs. He rocks against me, slow and deliberate, creating a friction that has me gasping into his mouth. One of his hands slides beneath the hem of my tank top, fingers splaying across my ribs, his thumb brushing the underside of my breast.
I arch into his touch, moaning, eager for more, but some last shred of sanity manages to break through the fog of desire. This is too much, too fast, too complicated. I place a hand on his chest, gently pushing.
“Wait,” I say softly, my breathing still uneven.
He freezes instantly, then pulls back enough to look into my face. “Everything okay?” There’s genuine concern in his gaze, no hint of frustration or disappointment.
“I just… I can’t do this. Not tonight. Not with everything...” I gesture vaguely, unable to articulate the chaotic tangle of emotions I’m feeling.
For a moment, I think he might try to persuade me, but instead he presses a last, gentle kiss to my lips before sitting back on his heels.
“Rejection,” he sighs dramatically, hand to his chest as if mortally wounded. “My one weakness.”
Despite everything, I laugh. “You’ll survive, I’m sure.”
“Will I, though?” he asks, giving me an exaggerated pout. “I may need medical attention. CPR at the very least.” He leans closer. “I’ve heard mouth-to-mouth is most effective.”
I laugh, pointing to the door, but I’m smiling too hard for my action to have any bite.
He stands, smoothing his rumpled shirt, and gives me an exaggerated bow. “Whatever my lady desires.” As he straightens, his expression softens into something more genuine. “Lily, I haven’t felt like this for anyone else in... well, ever.”
The simple honesty in his voice catches me off guard, making my heart flutter.
“That’s just the whiskey talking,” I deflect, suddenly uncomfortable with the vulnerability between us.
“Nope,” he says, popping the p sound. “It’s all you. The whiskey just gave me the balls to admit it.” He moves backward toward the door, grinning. “Well, the drink and the knowledge that you’ve now kissed two-thirds of the household. I’m just evening the playing field.”
Is he actually keeping score? The thought should be ridiculous, but with Archer, I can never be too sure. His smirk is lazy, all effortless confidence, but there’s something sharp in his gaze, like he’s testing the waters, waiting to see how I’ll react.
I narrow my eyes, refusing to give him the satisfaction. Dangerous territory.
“Goodnight, Archer,” I say, throwing a pillow at him that he snatches into his hand with infuriating grace.
“Sweet dreams.” He grabs the doorknob. “I know mine will be starring you in various states of undress.” With a last wink, he slips out, closing the door quietly behind him.
I flop back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling, my lips tender from his kisses, my body still humming with unfulfilled desire. What the actual hell am I doing?
It’s like I’ve stepped into some alternate reality where I’m suddenly the kind of woman who does these things. The kind who straddles a near-stranger during a drinking game, who pulls another into her bedroom at the first hint of attraction. The kind who attracts god-like Alphas. I barely recognize myself.
And yet... I can’t bring myself to regret it. Not Hunter’s kiss that ruins me. Not confronting James about his deception. And certainly not how perfectly Archer’s body felt pressed against mine.
I press my fingers to my lips, remembering the different ways they kissed me—Hunter’s kiss starting gentle and building to something overwhelming, Archer’s kiss immediately desperate and consuming—and I wonder, against all better judgment, what James’s kiss would be like. Would it be calculated and controlled, like the man himself? Or would there be an unexpected wildness under that composed exterior?
The fact that I’m even thinking about this has me groaning and yanking a pillow over my face. This storm needs to break soon—before I do something truly reckless. As if falling for all three of them at once isn’t already dangerous enough.
My best friend, Ruby, ended up with three men, and I won’t lie—I was jealous when I found out. But what happens when the storm passes, the heat of the moment fades… and these mountain men I’m stuck with decide I was never meant to be theirs?
With the taste of Archer still on my lips and the memory of Hunter’s hands on my body, I know sleep is a lost cause tonight. I might as well start planning how I’m going to face them all at breakfast without spontaneously combusting from embarrassment.
Or worse, desire.