Chapter 22 #2
They sat in silence for a moment. The afternoon light slanted through the windows and caught in her hair, turning it gold. She was beautiful. Even exhausted, even bruised, even as stubborn as any person he'd ever met in his life.
"Okay," she said finally. "I'll bring my stuff here, and we can work it together."
An intense wave of relief flooded through him, almost making him sway. "I'll send Ryker to get the information. No need for you to go out again." There was no way he was letting her out of his sight in this condition. Not today. Possibly not for a while.
"Fine," she said, setting the ice pack on the table. "I will trust you and your people. But Archer, I'm warning you: If you try to keep anything from me or hide anything, I will come after you. You aren’t allowed to protect me by excluding me."
One look at her eyes and he knew she meant every word of it.
"Deal," he said and offered his hand.
She shook it. The contact sent a current through him that had nothing to do with the case and everything to do with the fact that she was alive and sitting here in front of him, and he was profoundly, unreasonably grateful for both of those things.
"But I will protect you." His voice came out rougher than he intended. "I told you." He paused and let the words come because they were true, and he was done fighting them. "I can't lose you."
Her breath caught. He watched her eyes darken, saw the moment the air between them changed.
"Archer—"
He leaned in and kissed her. His need to hold her had finally outrun every reservation and every careful calculation he'd been making for weeks. He needed to know she was okay. Needed to feel it.
This kiss was different from the first. Not desperate or frantic or driven by pure adrenaline. This was slower. Deeper. Claiming.
Her hands came up to frame his face, and she kissed him back with a sweetness that nearly undid him entirely. He pulled her closer, careful of her head, and she shifted to straddle him. Her weight settled in his lap, and he groaned against her mouth.
His hands slid up her sides, thumbs brushing the underside of her breasts, and she gasped. He wanted her with an intensity that had been building for weeks, and he was done pretending otherwise. "Tell me to stop," he murmured, giving her one last chance to walk away. "Tell me you don't want this."
She met his gaze. "I can't," she said simply. "I want you too much."
His control snapped.
He stood, lifting her with him, and her legs wrapped around his waist. Her arms circled his neck. He carried her toward the bedroom, his mouth never leaving hers.
He knew he should not go down this path.
She was injured, uncertain about what her future might hold.
Someone had just tried to kidnap her, for whatever purpose.
However, he found he could no more walk away from this than he could fly to the moon.
The only way he knew how to prove his intention to protect her was physical.
She’d offered him the encouragement he needed. Her mouth was hot and hungry on his as he entered her private sanctuary.
He had to offer something of himself back. His body. His desire. His—
He pushed the thought away and gave in to just the physical.
He laid her gently upon the bed, then stretched out next to her, his hand resting on her ribcage, just below her sternum.
Her heart pulsed in a steady, slightly accelerated rhythm beneath his palm.
He nuzzled his nose below her jaw, pressing kisses and nipping tender little bites on the column of her throat.
She pressed her fingers on his forearm, then wrapped her fingers around his wrist, and dragged his hand higher, until he’d settled his palm over one of her pert breasts.
Everything tightened in him. Blood flowed fast and hard to his cock.
He slung one leg over her hips and rolled enough to spread out prone on top of her.
The sweet, soft curves of her body pressed into his chest, and he quickly reclaimed her mouth, licking along the seam of her lips, probing for entrance.
The instant her lips eased open, he dipped his tongue between them and explored the sweet, moist heat.
He shifted enough to relieve some of his weight on her, rocked his pelvis against her lower body, and palmed her breast again.
He squeezed lightly each time his tongue swept through her mouth.
Her low, quiet moans and fevered kisses encouraged him to higher heights. He slipped his hand up along her chest to her shoulder and then along her neck. She wrapped one leg over his hip, the heel of her foot skimming his ass before slipping down his thigh.
Laving kisses along her jaw, her cheeks, and anywhere else he could reach, he moved his fingers into her hair and along her scalp.
The sudden gasp of pain she released hit him like a bucket of icy water. He jerked his hand away from her head and reared back from her body.
The look of chagrin on her face told a story he didn’t want to hear. Couldn’t hear. He could not hurt her. And finishing this act, taking it to its natural conclusion, would surely be painful for her.
“God, I’m so sorry. This was a mistake.” He began to roll off her.
She gripped his bicep and pinched the skin of his inner arm. “Don’t stop now, Archer. I’m not a fragile flower you can crush. I’m tougher than that.”
“I hurt you. I don’t want—”