Chapter 12 #2
I haven’t been reluctant for some time.
I was just waiting to see what he’d do with the space I was giving him.
He filled it well.
The pack house is above the river path. I didn’t know you could get to it this way.
He takes me through to his bedroom. It is entirely Archer.
Clean lines, minimal, nothing that doesn’t have a purpose, and the purpose of everything is clear.
Books that are read rather than displayed.
A guitar on a stand in the corner that I look at and don’t comment on.
He watches me look at the guitar.
“Don’t ask,” he says.
“I didn’t say anything,” I reply.
“You were about to.”
“I was going to say it’s a nice guitar.”
“No, you weren’t.”
“No,” I agree. “I was going to ask if you played.”
The room is quiet.
“You weren’t supposed to see it,” he says.
“I’m glad I did.” I set the wildflowers on his windowsill, which is the right place for them and we both know it.
He crosses the room. He doesn’t stop at the careful distance.
He doesn’t maintain the Archer-appropriate gap or run a perimeter or show the controlled patience I’ve been watching all week.
He comes to where I am and he stops close, the way he was close on the river path.
His hand moves toward my jaw and cradles it.
“Still not afraid?” he asks.
“Still not afraid.”
“Good.”
“Just don’t bite me, okay? I already have one tether too many.”
“I promise I won’t.”
And then Archer kisses me, and Jack was right, I am surprised. I decide immediately that I am not going to tell Jack that.
Not tonight.
Tonight is not about Jack.
Archer’s kiss isn’t the clash I expected from someone so intense, so tightly wound. It’s deep, deliberate, like he’s mapping every inch of my mouth with his tongue, tasting me slowly, as if he has all the time in the world.
His Alpha scent envelops me, something dark and stormy, like rain-soaked earth mixed with leather and a hint of pine, grounding and overwhelming all at once.
It stirs my Omega instincts, making my pulse race and heat pool low in my belly.
I push back against it, meeting his tongue with my own, nipping at his lip to remind him I’m not some delicate flower.
Archer’s hand on my jaw slides back, fingers threading into my hair, tilting my head for better access.
The other hand settles on my waist, pulling me flush against him.
I can feel the hard planes of his body through our clothes, the controlled strength in his muscles, and damn, it’s intoxicating.
He’s not rushing, not fumbling like some Alphas who let their instincts take over.
No, Archer is precise, every movement calculated to build the fire without letting it rage out of control… yet.
I break the kiss first, breathless, my hands fisting in his shirt. “You’re full of surprises,” I murmur, my voice huskier than I intend.
His eyes, dark and intense, lock onto mine. “You have no idea.” There’s no cocky grin like Jack’s, just that steady gaze that makes me feel seen, exposed.
He walks me backward until my thighs hit the edge of his bed, then lowers me onto it with a gentleness that contrasts his enforcer vibe. The mattress is firm, the sheets cool and crisp against my skin as he follows me down, his weight pressing me in just the right way—not crushing, but possessive.
His mouth finds my neck, lips brushing the spot where Jack’s bite still tingles faintly under my skin. The bond with Jack hums in the background, a chaotic whisper, but Archer’s presence drowns it out, his scent overpowering, making my body respond to him instead.
He sucks lightly at my pulse point, teeth grazing without breaking skin, and a shiver races down my spine.
My hands roam under his shirt, tracing the ridges of his abs, the V of his hips.
He’s built like a weapon, all lean muscle and power, and when I tug the fabric up, he helps, shrugging it off in one smooth motion.
Damn, he’s gorgeous. I run my nails over his six-pack, not softly, and he hisses, his eyes flashing with heat. “Careful, Lola. I’m trying not to rush this.”
“Promise?” I challenge, because bold is my default, and the way his jaw tightens tells me it’s working.
He captures my wrists, pinning them beside my head with one hand, his grip firm but not painful.
It’s a power play, but there’s care in it, like he’s testing my boundaries without crossing them.
His free hand slides under my top, fingers skimming my ribs, then higher, cupping my breast through my bra.
He thumbs my nipple, already hard and aching, and I arch into his touch, a soft gasp escaping me.
“Responsive,” he notes, voice low and rough, like gravel. He peels my shirt off, then my bra, exposing me to the cool air of the room. His gaze devours me, making my skin flush hot. “Beautiful.”
I don’t blush easily, but something in the way he says it makes my cheeks heat.
Before I can retort, his mouth is on me, lips closing around one nipple, tongue swirling in slow, deliberate circles.
The sensation shoots straight to my core, making my clit throb and my Omega purr.
He switches to the other, his hand trailing down my stomach, unbuttoning my jeans with expert ease.
No hesitation, no clumsiness. He’s undoing me piece by piece, and I’m letting him.
I wiggle free of his hold on my wrists— he’s strong, but I’m quick—and flip us, or try to. He allows it, rolling so I’m straddling him, his hands on my hips Steadying me. “Impatient,” he says, but there’s amusement in his eyes.
“You have no idea,” I echo his earlier words, grinding down against the bulge in his pants.
He’s hard, impressively so, and the friction makes me bite my lip to stifle a moan.
The pack house is quiet around us, the river’s distant rush the only sound, and I remember Jack’s warnings about noise.
But Archer’s room feels isolated, like a fortress, and right now, I don’t care if the whole pack hears.
I divest him of his pants, shoving them down along with his boxers, and holy shit.
His cock is… outstanding. Thick, long, veined in a way that promises ridges of pleasure, curving slightly upward.
It’s bigger than I expected, even for an Alpha, and the sight makes my mouth water, my pussy clench in anticipation.