21. Kind and Sexy Both
21
KIND AND SEXY BOTH
O’CONNOR
He’d hung a lantern at the tent’s apex. A heater purred near the door. The space was warm and dry and flushed red from the walls.
The handsomest man in the world sat in front of me, our knees almost touching. His face was wrinkled in frustration and confusion. He’d promised me that this would go no further.
Kissing Archer would complicate everything.
Everything.
But I really wanted to prove my point.
I really wanted to kiss him.
“All right,” I said. His eyebrows shot up; he hadn’t expected me to give in. “Prepare to receive. Do not,” I warned him, “make a grab for me. This is me kissing you, not you kissing me. Understand?”
He swallowed. “What do I do?”
“Sit there. Maybe relax a little. ”
“Huh. Not likely.”
The corner of my mouth lifted in a grin, but there was no time to tease him back. If I didn’t move now, I’d lose my nerve.
I put one hand on his shoulder—warm, strong, alive—and leaned up, bridging the gap between us.
“My lips are soft,” I said quietly, “but not so soft that I can’t protect you from my teeth. Like this.”
I inhaled his delicious scent and tipped that last precious degree until my lips met his. My pulse was slamming in my veins, but I kept the pressure light and soft against him. I pursed my lips against his and drew them back in, briefly trapping his lower lip with mine. Then I let him go, sitting back.
And immediately wanted more.
“Soft,” he whispered.
“And strong,” I replied.
“Gentle.”
“And kind?”
“Kind. Yes, kind.”
“What about sexy? Was it sexy?” I waited to hear his answer. Please like me. Don’t hurt me.
“Mm,” he purred. “Just a hint of sexy. Like, made me want more.”
I smiled, and he watched my mouth when I did. “Well, that was supposed to be a first-date kind of kiss. Just a hint of sexy feels right to me for that occasion.”
“Just a hint.” He was still watching my mouth. The heat of a flush stretched the skin of my face. My heartbeat had not yet settled. “I wonder if I could do it.”
The tiny moan of my exhale was out of me before I could control it. “Do you want to try?”
His eyes flashed from my mouth to my eyes. “Prepare to receive. Ready?”
“Go on.” I was tingling with awareness. “Give it a try.”
“Just like you did? ”
“You can modify it if you want.”
“Modify it,” he repeated. His hand appeared between us and landed lightly on my shoulder. The heat branded me, and I sighed.
He shifted his head at my reaction and slid his hand up until he partially cupped my neck. With his thumb, he gently shifted the angle of my head, tilting my mouth toward his.
“Oh, that’s nice,” I said.
“Yeah? That’s okay? Good. Try this.”
He leaned down. Why were we both sitting cross-legged? How could we get close enough in this ridiculous posture? Why was I focused on something so unimportant?
His lips grazed against mine, featherlight. My head tilted higher, unaided, trying to fit my mouth to his.
I felt the ghost of his smile against my skin before he pursed his lips and gently caught my lower lip between his. He pulled back, but it took him a few seconds to lean back. He was breathing me in, and I was drawn to him.
Still within inches of my mouth, he asked, “Was that a good first kiss?”
My eyes had closed. When had they closed? “Yeah,” I breathed. “A good first kiss. Even if it’s our third kiss.”
The warmth of his face receded. I opened my eyes to see that he’d pulled back far enough to be able to look at me. He wore that fiendish triangular grin. “Our third kiss,” he said. “That’s right. So, we’re past the first date, then.”
I looked at the scarlet tent we were in and had to chuckle. “I’d say we’re past the first date.”
“So then show me how to do kind and sexy with an open mouth. Because that’s where teeth really become a problem, right?”
He wanted more, and I wanted more. I was flushed and thrilled, and nothing seemed awkward. This could go as far as I wanted .
All I had to do was decide when I wanted to stop.
That seemed an impossible decision in the moment. “Yes, the open mouth. Tongue. And teeth. Again, we’re talking about lip strength here.” I watched him as I spoke, seeing his confidence, feeling his strength, knowing his innate and instinctive kindness.
“I have very strong lips,” he said. “I used to play the trumpet.”
That surprised me. My focus broke for a minute. “You did? The trumpet?”
“Later. Show me the open-mouthed kiss. I’m prepared to receive. It’s all you.”
He was so tempting. I’d already kissed the man. Why hold back now?
I sat back far enough to uncross my legs and throw them over his. I wriggled closer to him. All he had to do was tug my hips and I’d be on his lap, riding astride.
Better.
“All right,” I said. “Try this. Lean down a little.”
I drew his head down to me and saw that he was biting his lip in anticipation. Oh yeah. I knew the feeling.
One hand cupping his neck, the other at last brushing through that golden hair, I tugged and shifted until I could bring my mouth to his. I inhaled sharply and then ended the distance between us, bringing my mouth to his.
He held still, allowing me to lead, but he was thrumming with vitality, with greedy eagerness. It was hot sauce on my soul, sharpening my desire. I nibbled at his bottom lip again and then gently opened my mouth, asking him to follow.
He did, languid and slow, and I slipped my tongue in to find his. He hissed at the touch, and I licked the strange, smooth, alien surfaces within. So strange. So exciting.
He groaned, and I sat back. “Was it . . . sexy?” My voice was halting, working to catch up with my panting breaths .
“Jesus,” he said in reply. “So is the secret to go slow? Because that was . . . god, that was delicious.”
“Slow?” I still had my hands on his head, stroking through that hair. “Slow is good. But also, um, lip strength. No mashing. You can kiss quite hard as long as your lips are firm enough to protect from teeth.”
“Kiss hard, huh? Can I try?”
“Oh, try.”
I’d unleashed him. He pulled me forward until my ass was cradled between his thighs and he could lean his chest into mine. “I won’t forget,” he murmured. “Even if you’re driving me crazy. Lip strength. I won’t forget.”
Then he was kissing me.
It was a deep, drugging kiss of languid strokes that rippled through me to my core, snugged up to the bulge in his jeans.
Our teeth actually did clink together, and he cursed and pulled back long enough to apologize. I laughed and pulled his head back to mine. “Keep going,” I said. “More practice. Practice makes . . . oh, perfect.”
“O’Connor,” he breathed, one hand finally making it to my breast. “O’Connor, how far are we going here? Because oh my god?—”
“I don’t know,” I gasped.
He pulled back, and I missed the feel of him. “You don’t know? Okay. Let’s cool this down a little.”
“But—I don’t mean?—”
He shook his head as he set me from him. “I have a rule, O’Connor. Nobody is unsure. If anyone has a doubt, then we stop.”
“But—but I don’t?—”
He smiled at me. A true, kind, generous smile. “O’Connor, do you want to get fucked tonight?”
Oh my. A flash of heat sizzled through me and my crotch tingled . . . but a shot of nervous adrenaline also zapped a line of ice along my spine. “Well, I-I’m not?—”
“Say no more, my beauty. We’re going to sit apart for a little while, if you don’t mind.”
“I was really liking the kissing part, though,” I said wistfully.
“Me too.” He grinned, and my insides quivered. “But it’s been a while for me, and I think I’d be better at exhibiting some control if we dialed it back a little.”
I blushed at the thought that he was hard, wanted more, and was giving me an out anyway. “I understand,” I said, turning away.
“Don’t go too far, though,” he said, running his hand down my arm. “I like having you around.”
Which was how I ended up curled with him on his mattress, my head on his shoulder and his arms wrapped around me. My frantic heat dissipated, and the warmth of affection grew inside me.
Confusing, yes. But so damned comfortable.
He’d forgotten to turn off the lantern, but the sun was coming up anyway. I closed my eyes to enjoy the heat, the scent, the feel of him.
“How come you won’t tell me about your first kiss?” His voice rumbled in his chest when he spoke, an intimacy I now knew.
But the topic was an unhappy one. “Because it wasn’t a very nice experience.”
He craned his head to try to catch my eye. “Not violent, was it?”
I shook my head. “No, nothing like that.”
“Will you tell me?”
I bit my lip and thought about it. Why not?
“When I was a freshman in high school, Danny Shepherd was the big dog. A senior. Football player. The real deal. Like you.” I nudged Archer, and he grunted companionably .
“I like him already.”
“No, you don’t. I was really proud to be on the school newspaper, and I started writing a column about local businesses. Places I liked, places I thought were badly managed. God, I was so young and so clueless.”
“A baby Opinionated O’Connor . I wish I could have seen you.”
“No, you really don’t. I was a mess. But I will say that the columns tended to be funny, so I developed a surprising readership.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. All your posts are witty as hell.”
I frowned. “You haven’t read my posts. You just watch the YouTube channel and listen to the podcasts.”
“Beg your pardon, I’ve read a long way into your back catalog. I love the way you write. The article about getting pool chlorine out of your hair totally changed my exercise plan.”
Huh. Think of that. Archer Armstrong read my back posts. How surprising.
And charming.
“Go on,” he said, nudging me.
“Well, the local newspaper thought it would be fun to reprint my articles.”
“I’ll bet they did.”
“And I was pretty excited about it too. I began getting requests to review places. Restaurants, sure, but also places that no fifteen-year-old would possibly care about, like dry cleaners and car dealerships.”
“That sounds kind of fun.”
“Well, it was. And I got pretty cocky about it too. Really, I was unbearable. But it did net me some attention at school.”
“Ah. Hottie McFootball noticed you.”
“Danny Shepherd. And he was so beautiful and a senior, and I was just this little nothing of a freshman.”
“You were never a nothing. Never in your life.”
“Oh, I was. Thanks, but I was. And Danny was like a god. ”
“And he was your first kiss.”
“Yes, he was. And I was so in love. He took me out to the bleachers at the football field, and we sat on them and talked, and then he turned to me and just kissed the hell out of me.”
“In front of everyone? He had balls.”
“Oh, hell no. We were absolutely alone. Not that I cared. All I could see was him.”
Maybe Archer heard the reluctance in my voice. He nudged me again. “Not good?”
“Well.” I smiled. “No teeth. That I remembered.”
He revenged himself on me by tickling me, which I subverted by tickling him back. He turned out to be more ticklish than I was. He had to pin me flat to the stupid air mattress and then kiss me until heat began to build again.
I’d lost any interest in tickling by that point. He rolled off me with a sigh and settled next to me, both of us on our sides, facing each other. “What happened with Danny on the bleachers?”
I blew out a breath of combined frustration and nostalgia. “He didn’t wait for the second kiss before telling me he wanted me to review his father’s pizza parlors and tell everyone it was the best pepperoni I’d ever tasted.”
“Oh, the idiot.”
“Who—him? Or me? I told him I’d have to try the pizza first, and he didn’t even say he’d take me there on a date. He just said to make sure it got into the papers by Saturday, and then he left.”
“He left? Just like that?”
“Left me sitting all alone and stupid on the empty benches, watching him jog back to his friends.”
“Let’s go beat him up.”
I smiled at his loyalty. “Here’s the worst part.”
“What?”
“His father’s pizza was terrible. I mean, just the worst. ”
Archer made a manful attempt to control his laughter. “You tried it?”
“I did.” Shame and laughter overwhelmed me. “I was so young, and so desperately in love. I really wanted to make him happy.”
“ I really want to make him a soprano.”
“Thank you. But the pepperoni was cheap and totally greasy. Plus, the place was disgusting. The table I was at—all by myself—was sticky with grime, and the napkin dispensers were empty.”
“Off with his head.”
“Exactly. But I really did write up a glowing review.”
“You didn’t!”
“I did. For love. But then I couldn’t bring myself to hand it in. And Danny Shepherd never spoke to me again.”
“That fuck. Bet we could find him now. And I bet he follows Opinionated O’Connor online.”
“Maybe he brags about how he was my first kiss.”
“I will nut that man, I swear to god. Doing that to an innocent little girl?”
I rested my hand on the warm, naked skin where his neck became his shoulder. “You’re getting the ‘kind’ part down really well.”
“I’m beginning to get the ‘protective’ part too.”
I smiled, and he yawned. “You didn’t get the sleep I did. Close your eyes. Get some rest.”
He regarded me with those blue, blue eyes and then tucked me up against his chest again. “O’Connor,” he whispered as I closed my eyes.
“Hmm?”
“What’s your first name?”
I shook my head. “I’m not going to tell you.”
The silence that followed was broken when he spoke again. “O’Connor. ”
“What?”
“My middle name is Chaucer.”
I opened my eyes, laughter bubbling up in me. “Archer Chaucer Armstrong?”
“Don’t tell anyone.”
“Who am I going to tell?”
“I don’t know. Twenty-four million followers?”
“Oh, hush. That name is not for public consumption.” Except of course it would be. It wouldn’t be so bad—just mildly embarrassing, as opposed to scandalous—to share it in my book, along with the live link to his raw singing of “Freedom,” already texted to my home server.
Still, he had reason to expect a privacy that I was going to ruthlessly violate, and that plucked at my conscience.
“Rebecca,” I whispered.
“Archer,” he murmured. “You got my name wrong. I’m Archer.”
“I know. I’m Rebecca. But don’t tell a soul.”
“Your secret dies with me, Becky.”
Fuck, I hated that name. The guy, though? That was more confusing.
He’d mentioned that Ian and Mal thought he ought to get over his drought by getting with me. Was that what was changing his personality?
What was I willing to do to create a great book?
And if I was honest with myself, the biggest question was: Would it really be such a sacrifice to have a one-night stand with this guy?