35. Tilly
Chapter thirty-five
Tilly
V ibrations beneath my head rouse me awake, and I slam my hand down, searching around for the phone as I keep my eyes tightly closed, hidden from the bright sun spilling in through the curtains. A pungent odor hits my nose, worrying me that there’s an issue with the sewer. Jessie’s arm around my waist prevents me from getting up, and I wiggle, trying to create room for me to turn over. There’s a pleasant ache between my legs, surrounding an insistent, throbbing desire for more as I push against the length stretched along my backside.
“Morning, darlin’,” he grumbles.
Darlin’?
Slowly, the scene focuses as I open my eyes. Green pastures, pens with pigs and cows, the rusty side of the truck bed. My heart slingshots out of my chest when I turn and Archer’s beard and naked stomach come into view.
Holy shit. Am I drunk? Why is Archer here? With his arms around me?
The spinning wheels of a safe inside my mind unlock, and my stomach plummets like a broken dumbwaiter. What the fuck did I do? My lungs shrivel behind my ribcage as I scramble to get his arms off me, backing away like a cornered animal with the blanket clutched to my chest.
No, this can’t be. I couldn’t have.
A hamster wheel of thoughts spins around my head, each one more devastating than the next. I slept with Archer. I cheated with my husband’s best friend. Jessie is gone, and he’s not coming back. Along the heels of the last thought comes the worst realization.
I’m vaguely aware I’m hyperventilating, clawing at my chest and arms, trying to remove Archer’s touch, but it’s already seared into my skin. When I close my eyes, all I can remember is his fingers digging into my hips, his teeth scraping against my neck, arms, and chest.
Jessie’s kisses and soft touches are gone.
I gasp, tears pushing through my squeezed shut eyes.
How could you? It was all you had left!
I told myself not to fall asleep, not to keep staring up at the stars when my eyes were already heavy. And now, I’ve erased the last memory of Jessie’s last touch from my brain.
“Tilly,” Archer repeats, reaching out for me. “It’s okay.”
“No.” I shake my head, knees pulled up to my chest.
Archer moves off the bed of Bob’s truck and slips into his clothes, giving me the space I need to calm down. He places my pants on the tailgate and folds the covers before he takes them back into the barn.
Through damp eyelashes, I can’t decipher how he’s feeling, but my chest feels like it’s been run through a vacuum sealer, stealing all of my air. Last night was…amazing. It was more than I could have hoped for or expected, but the lead brick sitting in my stomach sours it. Am I going to lose more bits and pieces of Jessie the longer this thing with Archer goes on? And is Archer going to push me away now that he sees how broken I still am?
God, my head is a mess.
I dress quickly, worried now that it’s daylight people can see us and hoping to get back in the truck before I have to meet his eyes again. I know I can’t expect him to understand how I’m feeling, or to be okay with it, but I hope he’ll give me the time to figure it out .
He slides into the front seat. “Ready?”
“Yeah,” I murmur, twisting my hands in my lap.
He shifts into gear and turns the truck around, heading back up the hill toward the main house. Bob greets us with a large breakfast, and I can barely manage to eat a piece of toast without wanting to throw up. Thankfully, we don’t dawdle. We load my display case from the garage and head down the road.
“A friend had the tire you needed,” Bob says, pulling up to Archer’s truck. They get out and start moving the display case over. “He came by and replaced it for you.”
“That’s so sweet, Mr. Bob.” I give the old man a weak smile.
“How much do we owe ya?” Archer asks.
“Nothing. We take care of our own out here.” He shakes Archer’s hand and then turns to me.
Already overly sensitive, my hands snake further around my body. I’m still too stunned, too raw from allowing Archer to touch me that I can’t bring myself to return his gesture.
“Thank you for all your kindness,” Archer says, trying to diffuse the awkward moment.
“Y’all take care.” Bob waves as he drives away.
Getting into the truck takes superhuman strength. It’s a four-hour drive back to San Antonio and seeing as we haven’t spoken but ten words to each other, it’ll be torture. I know it’s my fault, that my reaction to waking up with his arms around me is what caused all this, but I’m not sure how I can fix it.
I’m scared.
Now that I’ve had him, will he be taken away like my mom and Jessie? If I let him into my heart, let his skin imprint on mine, and he leaves, I’ll be back in the same exact position I was when Jessie passed .
“I know you’re scared.” Archer’s voice is filled with resignation.
The fact that he knows me well enough to know that’s where my head went is another reason this is terrifying. He’s deeply woven into the fabric of who I am.
I can’t lose him too.
I need to know if this is just fun or something…more.
My limbs are rigid, teeth clenched in preparation for this conversation.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
He reaches out to grasp my hand, but I tense, keeping the death grip I have on my legs. My body is like a computer in safe mode, trying to protect the critical parts of my heart. I miss his touch, the familiarity I found in it last night, but my mind is a jumbled mess drowning in guilt yet reaching for the future.
“You have nothing to apologize for.”
Words bubble out of my mouth, overflowing like a cauldron. “But I freaked out on you this morning and probably made you feel like shit. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I knew what would happen, and I feel terrible.”
“Stop.” His hand lands on top of mine, and as I pull back my ring scraps along his palm. He clenches his hand a moment then places it back on the wheel. “You don’t have to explain anything to me, Tilly. I know this is hard for you. And I’m sorry if I made it more difficult.”
My shoulders fall as his words soothe some of my anxiety. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Arch. It’s me that’s broken.”
“You’re not broken.” He turns and looks at me. “Do you understand me?”
I grumble a response.
“Words, Tilda St. James.”
“Yes, fine.”
“No, not fine. ”
He flicks on his blinker and pulls over to the side of the road. The leather steering wheel squeaks as his hands grip it, and he stares out at the open fields before turning to me.
“He was your husband and my best friend. He was a phenomenal, fun, caring guy, and it fucking sucks he’s gone. But he loved you so much, Tilly.”
My nose runs, mixing with the tears on my upper lip, and I steal a Whataburger napkin from his glove compartment to clear my face.
“I know.” I sniffle.
He stares out the window, and I can tell by the furrow in his brow that he’s thinking about his brother. “Grief is fucking hard. Doesn’t matter if it’s been two or twenty years. After a few years, I realized the hardest part of losing Sebastian wasn’t his actual death, it was figuring out how to live afterward. Figuring out to get up every morning and not immediately reach for your phone to call them, or how to breathe—” he pauses, sucking in a shaky breath, “—when every breath reminded me that he wasn’t here, that I had to go through life without him every single day of the rest of my life. But if I didn’t have Jessie, and Shantel and Nora, to help lift the weight, I would’ve let it drown me.” He grabs my hand and softly squeezes. “You’re not broken. You are working through it daily, just like the rest of us.”
I dab at the tears on my face and give him a weak smile. “Thank you.”
A minute passes with Archer swiping his thumb along the back of my hand, drifting over the diamond still on my finger as he soothes my fraught nerves. “I know I’m not him. I’m moody, I’m not that fun, and I’ve treated you poorly. I’m sorry for pushing you away, it wasn’t right, and I know you may not be able to forgive me. But all I’m asking is for a chance to make it up to you. To show you how much you mean to me. I’ll take it however slow you need me to, but I’m asking for my chance to make you feel like I should’ve been doing all these years, which is loved.”
I’m standing at a fork in the road, terrified to move in either direction.
One way leads me back to the empty comfort of grief where I can still pretend I’m not alone, pretend that Jessie would’ve wanted me to stay true to him even as a widow.
And the other way leads to potential disaster. If Archer and I try to make a go of it and it all comes crashing down, not only will it affect us, but it’ll affect Nora and Shantel, and even potentially ruin my chance at opening my bakery.
Needing air, I roll down the window and inhale the earthy smell of rain. Too many options sit in front of me, and either way I may end up alone.
But you’re already alone , my conscience reminds me. And it’s not wrong. I’ve been alone since Jessie died; that was my comfort zone. I learned how to live by myself, relying on no one to take care of me, and it worked for a while. But now that I’ve given a part of me to Archer, I don’t think I want to be alone and scared anymore. I want someone to enjoy daily life with, someone to relax into after a long day at work, and I want that person to be Archer.
Running a bakery is a risk I’m willing to take, so why isn’t putting my heart back out there worth it too?
“A chance,” I murmur.
“A chance,” he pleads.
My chest rises, renewed hope filling the deserted crevices of my heart. “Okay.”
For the first time in a long time I crave to be held, and like always, Archer senses exactly what I need without me having to voice it and wraps his arms around me. My hands slide around his back and pull him closer, thankful he didn’t freak out or make me feel bad for how I reacted this morning. I imagine it’s hard on him too, to have feelings for his best friend’s widow.
“Thank you,” he whispers into my hair.
We get back onto the road headed home, and even though I know there’s so much more we need to talk about, so many things left to hash out, I relish this time where it’s only us. Before the outside world pushes its way in, ready to tell us that what we’re doing is wrong.
After stopping home to shower and change into new clothes, we make it to the bakery before evening traffic commences. My entire body hums with excitement as we unload the display case, shifting it into the spot between the counter and the side hallway.
“It’s perfect.” I dance around on anxious feet, my dress loudly swishing around.
Archer turns on the neon ‘You Cake My Breath Away’ light and stands behind me, his hands on my waist, chin on my shoulder. “It’s your bakery. Of course, it’s perfect.”
I turn my head and capture his lips. Our kiss is slow and sensual, an embrace of not only our tongues but the words we’re too scared to say. The ‘I need you,’ ‘I want you,’ and the ‘I’m scared this is too good to be true’ statements lingering in the backs of our minds.
Archer deepens the kiss and leads me back until I’m pressed against the new display case. His fingers graze my bare arms, and the strap of my dress falls down my shoulder as his kisses on my neck become more feverish. I’m lost to the moment, lava pouring into my veins, mind a swirling abyss of pleasure. Within moments, my hands are in his hair, pushing him down to my chest.
“Tilly,” he groans, pulling down the cup of my bra, alternating between nipping and licking the sensitive buds .
“More.” My mind a haze of two years’ worth of pent-up sexual frustration, I push him further.
I’m thankful the windows are still boarded up because his knees hit the ground and he crouches under my dress, pulling my panties down. My hand splays against the display case as he lifts my leg over his shoulder. His firm tongue slides through me, swirling around my clit before he sucks it into his mouth. I cry out, gripping my dress in my hand and trying to steady myself against the case.
A muscled arm wraps around my thigh, bringing my center closer to his mouth as thick fingers slide through my arousal. Fire sizzles down my spine when they push into me, pressing against my g-spot and ripping a whine from my throat.
“Feels so good,” I pant, head falling against the case, adrenaline pumping through my system.
He grunts, adding a finger and bringing me closer to the edge. My legs quiver from the strength of holding myself up while he ravages me, and my hips buck along with his fingers, hand pressed against the back of his head as I come.
Archer comes out from under my dress and stands, his fingers still at my pulsing core. He kisses me, long and deep, swirling my release on my over-sensitive clit before he removes his fingers and dips them into his mouth. The image alone threatens to make me orgasm again.
I think of the last time I was here with him, my arousal so high I almost touched myself in the bathroom. But this time when I come, he’s still there, still pressing kisses to my neck and chest, whispering adorations into my mouth.
I grab his waistband, heart thundering inside my chest as I deftly unbutton the jeans between me and his erection. Velvet skin meets my palm when I delve into his boxers and grasp his shaft, pumping a few times for good measure.
Archer’s sharp intake of air as I lower to my knees is all the encouragement I need to taste him. His hand slams against the counter, gripping the edge as I lick up the vein on the bottom of his penis, swirling my tongue around the throbbing head and stealing the bead of precum settled there.
“Fuck,” he groans, hand resting on the back of my head.
In a teasing mood, I lick him a few times and take his balls into my mouth. He’s struggling, legs shaking, when I finally wrap my warm mouth around him. Taking him deep into my throat is near impossible with how large he is, but his groan gives me the strength to fight my gag reflex.
His hips move, shallowly thrusting as he stares down at where his cock disappears into my mouth. Our gazes meet as I take him as deep as I can and hum, vibrating his shaft in my throat.
He pulls out and reaches for me. “I need to be inside you right fucking now.”
“I don’t have—”
He whips a condom out of his back pocket. I laugh and roll my eyes. “Boy Scouts.”
“Dress on or off?” He smirks at my comment and sheathes himself.
I think about it for all of two seconds. “On.”
I’ve always wanted someone to be so hungry for me that they needed me right that instant, clothed and all. I bunch up my dress, and Archer lifts me up, wrapping my legs around his waist. His erection pushes against my center, easing its way in and letting me get used to the feeling of him.
There’s no warning before he slams me down onto the rest of his cock, and I moan so loudly I swear Deidre can hear it a block away. His thrusts switch between fast and slow, long and short strokes, pressing me back into the display case. It shakes with our movements, and a part of me worries it’ll shatter with the force of his thrusts, but like always, Archer knows exactly what I’m thinking.
“I’ll buy you a new case, but I’m not moving from this position.”
I laugh, and he responds by impaling me on his cock over and over again until I’m screaming my release into his neck and digging my fingers into his back. A few strokes later he’s grunting out his orgasm, nipping and pulling at my lip like he can’t get enough.
Archer sets my feet on the floor, and his smile morphs into a frown when his gaze lowers between us.
“Shit, it ripped.” He drags a hand down his face. “I’m sorry.”
The realization knocks me back a step. My cycle has always been regular, so I’m not worried about a pregnancy scare, but the idea of having a child with Archer reminds me I’ll never have one with Jessie.
My throat swells at the thought, and Archer’s hand is gripping his jaw so tightly I think he might crack bone. I can tell we’re both about to spiral, so I try to salvage what I can.
“It’s okay, Arch. I haven’t been with uh…anyone since Jessie, and I’m not ovulating.”
“I’ve always used protection and gotten tested regularly.”
He stares at the condom, and I scramble to fill in the silence. “I promise, it’ll be okay.”
“I’m sorry.” He’s stuck in this cycle until I wrap my arm around his bicep, coaxing his shoulders to relax. He takes a moment to get rid of the condom and grab a warm towel to clean us up before wrapping his arms around me. “Let’s order dinner and I’ll finish putting up the lights. ”
Starry-eyed, I look up at him and sigh. “Thank you.”
His eyebrows bunch. “For the orgasm or the lights?”
“For the food.” I laugh, and he swats my ass and brings me in for another kiss. “I’m kidding. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”
“I should’ve done it a long time ago,” he says.
My sick mind fills in the unspoken words, I wish so too.
Embarrassed by my atrocious thoughts, I look down to the ground. Archer catches my chin in his hand and lifts it up. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” I ask.
“Retreat into yourself. You’re doing nothing wrong,” he says. “You’re allowed to be happy, and you’re allowed to be sad too. You can feel whatever you need to, but don’t bottle it up.”
Thankful he’s only half a mind reader, I nod and let him kiss me once more before he goes to the back to order food.
I take a moment to meditate on his words, repeating back to myself that it’s okay to be both sad and happy. That I don’t have to feel like I’m betraying Jessie by finding happiness again so soon, and that it’s okay if this…relationship is different than what I had with Jessie—the quiet type of passion that leaves your heart glowing. I remind myself I loved Jessie with all my heart and there was never space in there for Archer then, but there’s space now, and that’s okay.
“Food should be here in twenty minutes.” Archer returns and slides his phone into his pocket before he grabs the box of lights from a nearby table. “Ready to light this place up?”