Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Callie
A rcher's house always feels welcoming. I've been here a million times with Rowan and every time, I think how little I'd want to change if we ever ended up together.
I wonder if his secret girlfriend is going to gut the place?
Stepping out of the shower in his master bathroom, I towel off and reach for the things he offered me to change into; a t-shirt that smells of his laundry detergent and a pair of sweatpants that are far too long for me and have to be rolled down at the waist several times.
This will be the first time I've ever slept in his house, and the first time I've ever been here without Rowan.
I didn't have to wash my hair, but it got damp despite my efforts to keep it dry. Running the towel over it vigorously, I do my best to get it as dry as possible. I doubt Archer has a hair dryer for me to borrow.
Checking my reflection in the steamy mirror, I verify that I got the make-up off. Then I hang the towel on the hook behind the door and walk into his bedroom.
It's also my first time in here.
I've seen his room before-- from the hallway, when I've poked my head through the door to spy on what his personal space looks like while everyone else has been outside, but I've never been brave enough to snoop past the doorway.
Now I take advantage of the opportunity to make my way around the room. Opening a few drawers of his dresser; socks, underwear-- the sexy boxer brief type-- mostly black, a few pairs in dark grays and navy blue, more sweat pants, no pajamas I can find.
Does he sleep naked?
Sliding the drawer closed slightly, I try not to let the idea take up too much space in my head. After all, he belongs to someone else now.
As far as I know, Archer's never dated anyone very seriously. And since I came back to Slow River, he hasn't dated anyone at all. As long as Archer was single, I felt like there was still some hope. I felt like he could be mine, at least on some level.
Now that I know he only seemed single because he was in a secret relationship, it feels wrong to be imagining him naked in the king size bed taking up most of the real estate along one side of the room.
Running my hand over the silky soft, high quality linens and leaning down to inhale his scent from the pillow feels dirty. Not that it stops me. But it still feels wrong.
Until my mind drifts to the pillow on the other side of the bed and I find myself wondering if she's spent the night here. If I sniff that pillow, will also smell of his aftershave and masculine scented hair products? Or will it smell feminine? Will it smell like a woman has slept there?
I didn't see any signs of a woman's things in his bathroom. I don't see a woman's clothes in his dresser or in the nearly empty walk-in closet that sprawls off the master bath.
But Rowan said the woman is a secret. Someone off limits that isn't ready to risk her family's ire to be claimed by Archer publicly.
Whoever she is-- she's a dumb, fucking bitch.
If Archer Dean wanted me, I'd let him tattoo his name across my forehead. I wouldn't care who had a problem with it, I'd be so proud to be his woman-- I'd even tell my brother to go to hell if he tried to get in the way.
A gentle knock against the other side of the closed bedroom door startles me out of my fantasies.
"Thought you might want a snack?" Archer's deep voice is muffled by the door. "I can make cocoa?"
Happy for the distraction from my miserable thoughts, I open the door to laugh at him face to face.
"Cocoa? It's seventy degrees outside, Arch."
Opening the door must have startled him. He stands in the hall, frozen and looking at me like he's forgotten how to talk.
"There's sweet tea in the fridge." When he finds his voice, it comes out raspy.
He seems shaken, and I wonder if the drama at the bar is starting to sink in. Things definitely got out of hand out there. We got lucky that those other guys showed up when they did.
"...and I could make popcorn. If you feel like staying up for a while longer we could...watch a movie? Or maybe you could tell me what the hell you were doing out at the Tollhouse alone and dressed like you wanted attention?"
His voice is filled with concern and curiosity, but then there's an edge to it too that sounds less like the protective big brother that he usually plays by Rowan's side, and more like-- I dunno; Archer almost sounds like he's jealous .
Weird, but whatever.
I can't tell him all of it, of course. I'd never be able to admit how fucking devastated I am that he's in love with someone else.
"Does it have anything to do with your friend staying up on the Ridge tonight?" He cocks his head sideways, one corner of his mouth pulling into a sympathetic smile, and sending his hair falling over the wrong way from how he parts it. It's longer on top, but not long enough to fall over his eyes.
Still looks sexy as hell though, and my fingers itch to right it; just for an excuse to touch him.
Yeah. That'll work. I can tell him I was feeling left out now that Ginger's found someone she's serious about. It's not exactly not true.
Following behind him, I try not to stare at his ass as we make our way down the long hallway, back to the front of the house with the big, farmhouse kitchen that I've imagined myself cooking meals for the make believe family we're never going to have.
Archer pulls a pitcher of cold, sweet tea out of the fridge and sets it next to a couple of glasses he pulls from the cabinet. Then he sorts through some boxes in the walk-in pantry, presumably in search of this popcorn he plans to make, and I find something I would change.
His pantry is a disorganized mess.
Reminding myself that that's going to be someone else's problem to remedy soon enough, I make busy work of filling the tumblers with tea.
When he pulled the sweat pants and t-shirt out for me, he grabbed a change of clothes for himself too; taking them with him before he closed the door behind him to give me privacy for my shower.
The nights are mild this time of year, and the windows are open throughout the house to take let the fresh air in. It lets a faint breeze move through the house, carrying the scents of night blooming jasmine and recently cut alfalfa in with it.
Unfortunately, it's not the cool air that's making my nipples hard.
The halter top I was wearing has a built in bra, so I don't have one to put on under the borrowed tee.
It's just the way my body reacts to the man standing just inside the pantry door, still looking through the shelves for popcorn.
I'm drifting deep into my own head again when I realize he's stopped searching the shelves and is staring at me in silence.
A packet of microwave popcorn is clutched tightly in the fingers of his right hand. Too tightly. His chest rises and falls heavily under his t-shirt.
My eyes take in the full scene while my brain scrambles to make sense of it.
I know what men look like when they're turned on. I know how they look at me when I'm the one they're thinking about-- just because I've never dated, doesn't mean I haven't had offers. Especially in college when my brother wasn't around to run them all off.
It's just that seeing the hunger in Archer Dean's eyes right now is all out of context.
The way his jaw clenches in a way that makes the muscle beside his ear twitch, the hyper-focused stare, unmistakenly centered on me-- the enormous erection proudly tenting the front of the black sweat pants hanging from his hips.
"Is that because of me?"
Stupid question. Of course not. Or maybe? What the hell am I doing?
Because he only answers me by closing his eyes tightly and saying my name in a pained whisper as I close the distance between us, too confused to think better of it.
Archer
This is bad. All bad.
But I'm trapped, with nowhere to go but into the dead end of the pantry, because Callie's standing in front of me now and I can't remember how to breathe, let alone move my fucking feet.
I thought I was keeping it together. I thought I'd make it through the rest of the night; stand in the kitchen with the island between us while I let her tell me what had her thinking it'd be a good idea to go out to Keller's Ferry on her own.
My plan was to listen, maybe scold her for doing something that could have ended so badly. Play my part as her over protective big brother's concerned sidekick.
Then she'd sleep in my room and I'd crash in one of the spare bedrooms. In the morning, we'd go get her car and go our separate ways.
She'd go back to living her life and I'd torture myself knowing that she'd been in my bed-- without me.
One of these days, I need to organize the pantry. I tend to just shove boxes in here without thinking. But the real reason it took me so long to find popcorn was because I kept sneaking glances at Callie.
She's so beautiful. Standing in my kitchen, wearing my clothes, bits of her hair still damp from being in my shower. Looking like every fucking fantasy I've been trying to get out of my head for the last two years.
Those curves of hers fill out my sweats where they hug her round ass and those thick thighs, but they're so fucking big everywhere else that she's got the legs rolled up and the waist rolled down. My old t-shirt hangs on her everywhere but where it's stretched across those full breasts.
It's obvious she's not wearing a bra. The house has cooled down from the open windows and the night air moving through has her nipples mouthwateringly hard. The way her tits sway gently with the movements of her raising and lowering the pitcher of tea to fill the glasses is hypnotic.
That's what got me caught. I couldn't stop looking. Couldn't stop thinking about how they'd feel filling up my hands, wondering how much harder I could get those nipples if my mouth was on them.
I got carried away; thinking about slipping my hand down the front of those sweats, wondering if she put her panties back on or if I'd find her mound bare against my fingers and whether it'd be covered with a patch of soft hair or if she keeps herself smooth.
If she let me touch her like that...how wet would she be for me? What kind of noises would she make for me when I lift her onto the counter and replace my hand with my mouth?
Hiding my hard-on in the sweats I changed into is impossible. I almost had it under control, using my search for snacks as an excuse to keep my back to her long enough for my damn cock to settle down.
Then I looked up. My fingers tightened on the packet of microwaveable popcorn, the loud crinkle of plastic wrapping not enough to break me out of my daze.
Callie was looking at me. Looking at me like she wanted me every bit as badly as I want her. My dick immediately jumped back to the ready, springing up painfully hard, and utterly impossible to hide from her.
"Cal..." I whisper her name through gritted teeth in a warning. Or a surrender. Because she doesn't stop moving until she's so close to me that I can feel the heat radiating off her body.
"Oh God..." I barely register that I've spoken again as her touch steals the breath from my lungs.
My hand drops the popcorn packet and grips the pantry doorjamb. My eyes shut tightly, and there's no fighting it anymore.
Callie's hand presses against my cock, making me see stars.
"Should I stop?"
Her hand eases the pressure against me until I barely feel it there anymore.
"No."
Opening my eyes, I dare to look down at her only to find those bright hazel eyes looking back at me, filled with what looks like hope.
Callie presses her hand against me again and I suck in a sharp breath at the contact. Her fingers wrap around my girth through the cotton fleece of my sweats.
"I don't understand," she murmurs softly as she tentatively explores my cock like it's the first one she's ever touched.
"Rowan said you're in love...That you wouldn't tell him who she is, but you seemed really serious about her. Why would..."
Her fingers slip upward, leaving my dick wanting, but then she finds her way under the hem of my shirt and her touch on my bare skin is enough to make me stumble backwards, landing against the rear shelves of the pantry.
I'm still struggling to understand what's happening here, and some part of my brain is holding on to reason, keeping me from putting my hands on her. If I do, I won't be able to stop, and I don't understand why Callie's hands are still on me. I just know I don't want her to stop.
"Why would what?"
My lips are dry and I lick them as I fight through the buzzing inside my brain, but it's Callie that I really want to wet them with.
"Why would I do this to you? You've never even noticed me. Not like this. Why now?"
Her hand slides higher under my shirt and over my chest. I wonder if she notices how fast my heart is beating. But her other hand has joined the delicious torture, drawing light trails down my abs till the muscles twitch under her touch, then exploring beneath the waistband of my sweats but remaining agonizingly clear of my weeping cock.
Something breaks loose inside me. Whatever was left of my resolve shatters and my paralysis gives way to blinding, desperate need.
My back is still against the back pantry wall, one of my feet tangled between a couple of packs of bottled water, one wrong move and I'll lose my balance and end up on the floor but none of it matters.
With both my hands bracing the sides of Callie's face, I bring her lips to meet mine and get my first taste of what I've been thirsting for.
" You , Cal..." I breathe the words urgently between gulps of air before I kiss her again. "I'm in love with you ."