Chapter Twelve
Echo
M Y DOORBELL PEALED, and I opened it to find Archer holding up two bags. “Hi. Come on in.”
He stepped inside and closed the door.
“What have you got?” I asked.
“Your vase, chocolate, and wine.”
“I definitely want two of those things,” I grumbled.
He set everything on my kitchen island, then pulled me in for a hug. “We’re gonna get everything sorted.”
“She stole from me, Archer. Now I feel so, I don’t know, icky.”
“Icky’s a great word, honey, but she’s going to feel a hell of a lot worse when I’m done with her.”
“You wouldn’t hurt her—”
“Baby, no, I would never hurt a woman. Not physically, anyway.”
I met his eyes. “What does that mean?”
“It means that our resident counsel is going to put together a case and we’re going to sue the fuck out of her and get all that money back.”
“Well, can I punch her vagina?” I asked, pulling plates down from my cabinets.
He laughed. “Yeah, baby, absolutely.”
“I’m going to tear that crown right off her head.”
“About that…”
I narrowed my eyes. “What?”
“Did you happen to take any pictures before and or after you made the vase?”
“Oh, yes. I do for all of them.”
His eyes widened. “You do?”
“Yes. I may not want to keep them, but I like keeping a record of actually doing them. They’re pretty.”
He grabbed me, kissing me quickly. “You just put the final nail in this bitch’s coffin.”
“I did?”
“Yeah, baby, you did.”
“How’d I do that, exactly?”
“You kept a photographic record of your pottery from beginning to end, so Mack can put a case together to prove you are this Edgar Wickens person and Annette stole from you. ”
“Oh. Right. But I don’t have the money for an attorney, Archer.”
He smiled gently. “Let me worry about that.”
And that’s when I pounced.
I practically threw myself at him and sliding my hands under his shirt and scraping my nail over his nipple.
“Bedroom,” he growled.
“End of the hall.”
“You want this?”
“Like I need air.”
I led him down to my bedroom, and we made quick work of removing our clothes.
Archer’s eyes met mine as he wove his hands into my hair and pulled my mouth to his, guiding me to my bed.
His large, rough hand so close to my breast, I felt the ghost of excitement I imagined his touch would elicit, and I raked my nails over his back.
“You’re gonna need to slow down, baby, or this isn’t gonna last,” he whispered, settling me on the mattress.
“Oh,” I whispered back.
He kept kissing me, moving his mouth down my body, finally getting me out of my head. I couldn’t stop a whimper as he rolled a nipple between his fingers, and I arched into his touch. Needing more, and silently demanding it, I was rewarded with his mouth between my legs.
I glanced down at him. His arms were like catnip to me. The veins popping against well-formed forearms, and bulging biceps as he grasped my thighs, holding me firm so he could suck, nip, and lick me until I could barely think.
Archer was what dreams were made of. He was beautiful. Paul Newman beautiful. Rugged, handsome, and all man. The stubble he’d let grow out a little was rough against my freshly waxed pussy and I cried out as an orgasm washed over me.
“Wait,” I bit out.
He sat up and met my eyes. “You okay?”
“Is this forever?”
Archer blinked. “Do you want forever?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I hadn’t really thought about it, until you just did that thing with your tongue.”
He grinned.
Wide.
“How about we start with exclusive and go from there?” he suggested.
“Do bikers do exclusive?”
He met my eyes again then hovered above me, palms flat on either side of my hips. “This biker does.”
“We live in totally different worlds.”
“So?” He slid a hand between my legs, dragging his finger hard against my clit again and burying it inside me.
Oh, god, yes!
I arched against him, my head pressing into the pillow, as I pushed into his hand and whimpered. “What was I saying?” I hissed.
“I have no idea,” he retorted, pulling his finger out and thrusting it in again. He did that several more times and I went for a breathtaking ride, writhing, and panting, then he pulled out and thrust in two fingers as his thumb went to my clit.
I shook and I grabbed his wrist to keep him right where I needed him to be. “Jesus Christ on a cracker,” I hissed. “Do. Not. Stop.”
He grinned. “Wasn’t gonna stop, beautiful.”
“Even if I come again, don’t stop,” I begged, spiraling too close to another orgasm.
“You want my fingers or my dick?”
“Both,” I panted out.
“I gave up Yoga in high school, Echo. You’re gonna have to choose.”
I let out a frustrated growl. “Dick, but hurry!”
I lost his fingers but felt his weight bearing into my hip as he leaned over the bed and grabbed his jeans off the floor. I heard his belt buckle jingle, and I watched as he pulled a condom out of his wallet and tore open the packet with his teeth.
Keeping his eyes on mine, he rolled on the condom, then guided himself to me and nudged through my wetness.
God, he was big.
“Ready?” he whispered.
“Hell, yes,” I rasped.
He slid inside and I thought I might die and go to heaven. My head dropped back to the pillow again and I moaned. He started moving, suspended over me, slow, steady and so, so deep.
God, yes.
“More,” I begged.
“Hitch that leg up,” he ordered.
I did and he slammed into me, giving me more .
I grasped onto his waist and moved with him, my thighs holding me to him, my breasts pressing against his chest, and I buried my face in his neck.
“Fuck,” he growled, slamming deeper, faster.
“Archer, honey, oh, god, I can’t…”
His hand slid between us, fingering my clit as he pounded inside of me and I honestly thought I’d come off the bed as I screamed, the white, hot ecstasy of another orgasm slamming through me without warning.
“Jesus, fuck!” he whispered, as his cock throbbed inside of me.
I took a moment to look at him. His neck was bent, his head down, and he was kissing my pulse gently.
We were both breathing heavily, holding each other as the tremors of our orgasms seemed to pass through each other’s bodies, and I didn’t want to move, but all too soon, he lifted his head and smiled. “I’ll be right back.”
He slid off the bed and walked to my bathroom, his glorious ass on display as he did, then I heard the sink water as I stared at the open bathroom door.
“Where are your towels and shit?” he called.
“Under the sink.”
“Washcloths?”
“Drawer to the right of the sink,” I called back.
He returned, a washcloth in his hand, which he handed to me. “To clean up with.”
“Romantic.”
Archer grinned. “I can be romantic and do it for you, but if we’re gonna make our dinner reservation, I’m concerned I’ll get you all hot and bothered again.”
I sat up. “What dinner reservation?”
“It’s in one hour,” he said.
I raised an eyebrow. “And where are we going?”
“Pink Priest.”
I let out a squeak and scrambled off the bed, washcloth abandoned, sheets shoved aside, as I rushed into the bathroom. “When were you planning on telling me we were going to the fanciest, and hardest place to get into, in one hour, Archer?”
“I’m telling you now,” he retorted.
“No.” I let out a frustrated growl. “Obtuse is not the way to go here, bub.”
“If I’d told you earlier, would I have gotten access to that magnificent pussy?”
“Compliments aren’t going to get you out of it either,” I snapped, turning on the shower and scooping my hair into a bun on top of my head.
“You want some company?”
“We don’t have time for company,” I screeched, stepping inside. “Do you have something to change into?” I asked while I soaped up.
“I don’t need to change, honey. They won’t care.”
I choked out, “You’re joking. ”
He grinned, leaning against the counter, still buck-naked. “I’m not joking. How do you think I got a reservation? The ma?tre d’ is a friend of the club.”
“Regardless. You cannot go in jeans and a T-shirt, Archer.”
“Sure, I can. ”
I wiped the water out of my eyes and glared at him. “To the Pink Priest?”
“Yes,” he confirmed. “To the Pink Priest.”
Doing a final, quick rinse, I turned off the water, grabbed a towel, and stepped out of the shower. “Well, I’m not wearing jeans and a T-shirt.”
“Wear whatever the fuck you want to.”
“Are you going to get dressed?”
“After I shower, yes,” he said, standing there like he had nowhere to be.
I wrapped my towel around me. “Are you going to just stand there, or are you going to shower?”
“Just admiring the view.”
“We don’t have time for you to admire the view, Archer. Get in the shower,” I snapped.
He grinned, closing the distance between us and leaning down to kiss me gently. “Yes, ma’am.”
Then he got in the shower.
Once we were both dressed, Archer reached for his phone. “It’s my sister.”
“Answer it,” I said as I slid on a pair of low-heeled slingbacks.
“Hey, Ducky, you okay?” He faced me. “Ah, no, I’m taking Echo to the Priest. No, you cannot tag along.”
I frowned. “Yes, she can.”
He shook his head and whispered, “No, she can’t.”
I shrugged while he gave me a lopsided grin.
“Where’s Ruin?” he continued. “Did you call Cash, or Teagan? Yep. Mom? Dad? As I suspected. I’m the sloppy sixths. No, no, don’t deny it,” he said. “ I know where I stand. I’ve always known.”
His voice was low and overly dramatic, and I couldn’t tell if he was teasing her or legitimately hurt. I stiffened a little, ready to do battle with his sister if need be. No one got to make Archer feel less-than in my presence, even his sister.
Then he grinned. “I will talk to Echo and if she’s cool with it, I will call Friar Chuck and see if it’s okay to move the reservation.
Then I will call you back and let you know what they both say.
Yep. Yes, Ducky, I will tell him it’s for Hatch.
I know how to drop Uncle Hatch’s name when it comes to Chuck. Okay, sissy, I’ll call you back. Bye.”
Archer slid his phone back in his pocket and I raised an eyebrow. “I’m fine with her coming.”
“I want to make her sweat a little.”
“Why?”
He chuckled. “Because I can.”
“Are you hurt that she didn’t call you first?” I challenged.
“No.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Really?”
“Really. I know my sister. Ruin’s out of town coaching right now.
Hockey,” he provided. “And he’ll be gone for a few days.
Teagan’s her best friend, so she’ll always be called first. Teagan and Cash are probably off doing something, so that takes him out.
Mom’ll be next, then Dad, then me. I would have been shocked if she’d called me first, honestly.
Cash and I are always last on the pecking order after Mom or Dad. ”
“That’s kind of sweet she calls either of you at all actually.”
“Well, I guess you could look at it that way,” he said. “Daisy does not like to be alone.”
“I can’t tell if you’re making fun of her right now.”
“No, baby,” he said, wrapping an arm around her.
“I would never do that. I’m just making note of something about her.
One of those things is that she doesn’t like to be alone, so she knows to call one of us if she wants company.
I just like to give her shit when she calls me last because we like to tease each other. ”
I relaxed a little and leaned against him. “And you’re sure it doesn’t hurt her feelings?”
“She would tell me if it did. I promise you.”
“I really am okay with her joining us.”
He kissed the top of my head. “I’ll call the restaurant.”
Once Archer moved the reservation, he called his sister and then we headed into Portland to pick her up.
Daisy Wilton was what could only be described as magnificent. Pretty, blonde, smart, sassy, and did not take any shit off her brother.
I loved her instantly.
When she’d opened her door, she’d looked me up and down, then rolled her eyes. “How the hell did you manage to pull her, Arch?”
“I know, right?” he’d said.
Daisy focused on me again. “You are stunning. Can I hug you?”
“Sure,” I said, feeling instantly at ease with her .
“You can say no,” Archer said.
“I know that,” I said just as Daisy pulled me in for a gentle hug.
“Come in,” Daisy said. “I just have to grab my purse.”
We followed her inside and I glanced around. “This place is gorgeous.”
“Right?” Daisy breathed out. “It’s our parents’. With Huck coaching for the Winterhawks, they graciously let us move in here until we find something to buy.”
“Translation,” Archer said. “Closer to them in Vancouver.”
“Exactly,” Daisy said. “But I like it here and we’re waiting for a bit to have kids, so it suits us for the moment.”
“It’s perfect,” I said.
“You’re not wearing that, are you?” Daisy asked her brother.
I raised an eyebrow in an ‘I told you so,’ expression and Archer sighed. “I am wearing this.”
“Charles will have a coronary.”
“Hatch wears shit like this all the time,” Archer countered.
“Hatch could walk in naked and Chuck would… well, never mind, I’m going to leave that there,” Daisy murmured. “Let me just say that Hatch can do a lot of things that mortal folks can’t.”
Archer chuckled.
“Huck probably has a few things—”
“No,” Archer growled. “I’m not wearin’ your man’s clothes .
“What if they throw us out?” Daisy asked, worrying her bottom lip.
“They’re not going to throw us out, Ducky,” he assured her.
“But what if they try?”
“Then I’ll invoke the name of Uncle Hatch.”
“Does that usually work?” I asked.
Daisy’s head bobbed up and down. “Oh, yeah. All the time.”
“Are we ready?” Archer asked.
“Am I bringing my credit card?” Daisy asked.
“What do you think?” Archer challenged.
“Yay,” she squeaked. “Thank you. I love you.”
“I’m aware. Love you, too.” He laughed, hugging her quickly. “And you’re welcome.”
We headed out and just as Archer predicted, no one said shit about his attire and dinner was awesome with our little threesome, helping to distract me from the Annette shit.