Chapter 64
Elle
I am fury and embarrassment personified.
“Excuse me.” I say before getting up. I make my way to the ladies room. Stepping inside I feel Archer’s presence before I see it.
I twist my body to look at him, my hurt and betrayal lacing my words. “You are lucky I am not a monster, Archer. I won’t ruin Vi’s night. But don’t think for one second you are forgiven. You are on borrowed time.”
“I know. I know that. I am sorry, Elle. It was stupid, controlling, and disrespectful. I saw that picture, and I just—” His voice is low and desperate for me to understand.
“You just what! Archer! You just what?! I thought we were past this, I was transparent with you about everything this weekend would entail. I told you about Giddy-Up Gentlemen!” I hiss.
Anger. Frustration. Betrayal. Embarrassment. Ugly vicious emotions battering my bruised heart and ego.
“Did you?!” Archer snaps. “You said it was essentially Magic Mike. This is a strip club, Elle!” He’s seething, his chest rising and falling.
“You knew it was a boundary for me, and you chose to call it something else so you could go anyway!” His accusation, while deflecting from his own colossal mistake, hits the one honest kernel about my omission.
“Do you know how bad it looks for my girlfriend to be at a strip club without me!”
A shocked laugh escapes me. That’s what he’s worried about? What it looks like?!
“I told you we were going here, I was up front about everything and yet you still chose to barge in here, and treat me like I was your property!” I seethe.
“Our one rule is honesty, Elle! Our one rule!”
The air crackles between us. I stare at him, then I let out a single, harsh laugh that holds no humor. “You want to talk about specifics and rules? Fine.”
I step closer, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, laced with the cocktail and malice. “You know the hat rule, Archer. You wear the hat; you ride the cowboy.” I snatch and grab his tie-less collar, pulling his face down to mine. “And you are the only cowboy I am interested in riding tonight.”
His eyes flash; the anger drowned by immediate, desperate arousal. He doesn’t argue. The fight is over, replaced by a desperate need for physical connection.