This woman is going to kill me. I just know it.
Chapter Five
Ivy
ARCHER BANCROFT HAS a body like no other man I’ve been with before, let alone seen live and in person, up close and in my face. All solid mass and smooth skin, defined muscles and broad chest and shoulders. He’s all I can see and hear and smell and taste while he lies on top of me, his long fingers curled around my wrists, holding my arms captive above my head.
What we’re doing is so completely unexpected, so unbelievably exciting, my entire body is shaking in anticipation. He’s kissing me like he’s a starving man and I’m the only thing he craves. I can feel his erection nudging between my legs, and I’m so wet for him it’s almost embarrassing.
But I don’t care. I’m drunk on the sensation of his body pressing into mine, his hungry mouth, his insistent tongue, those big, rough hands pinning me to the bed.
I had no idea being held down would arouse me so much, but oh my God, I’m so hot for him I feel like I’m going to burst.
“Promise not to go straight for my dick?” he whispers in my ear after breaking our kiss.
I want to laugh. I also want to moan. His blunt words turn me on too. “Maybe I really want to go straight for your dick.”
His eyes lock with mine. They’re dark and full of smoldering heat. “I already told you what might happen if you did that.”
Oh yes, he sure did. I might want to witness that too. In fact, the idea is amazingly hot. Me stroking him, Archer losing all control and coming all over my fingers . . .
Restlessly I rub my legs against his, and he chuckles as if he can read my mind. “Promise me you won’t make a grab.”
“I can’t promise you that,” I whisper.
“Then let me touch you.” His voice lowers as his fingers loosen gently around my wrists. Until they’re slipping away and he’s nuzzling my neck with his face, his hands skimming along my sides. “I want to explore you.”
I’m not going to protest. That’s exactly what I want him to do. So instead of making a grab for his dick—as he so kindly says—I sling my arms around his neck, my hands in his hair, gently guiding him down as he rains kisses across my collarbone, my chest, the tops of my br**sts, the valley between my br**sts . . .
He’s teasing me. My ni**les ache for his mouth to wrap around them and his lips are everywhere but my ni**les. I don’t know if I can stand this exquisite torture, his hands gripping my hips, his mouth all over my sensitive skin. I tighten my hold on his hair, tugging hard until he mutters a curse word against my flesh before he licks one nipple.
Then he licks the other.
The ragged moan that escapes me is nothing like the usual sounds I make in bed, and I clamp my lips shut, momentarily embarrassed. But then he does it again, his velvety damp tongue flicking back and forth over my nipple, driving me absolutely wild. Another shuddery moan leaves me, and I tangle my fingers in his hair, holding him to me as he licks and sucks and edges his teeth on my flesh, gently nipping. Testing me.
It feels so good I want more. Oh God, I’m crazed with wanting his teeth on me, his hands all over me. “Harder,” I whisper, my request shocking myself and he bites my nipple, hard.
Between my legs I go loose and damp and when he glides his fingers through my soaked folds, his thumb sweeping over my clit, I shake my head frantically. “No, not like this. Please.”
“Want me inside you?” He whispers the heated words against my br**sts, and I crack open my eyes to find him watching me. His gaze is dark, full of forbidden promise, and I nod, a whimper falling from my lips. His answering smile is deliciously wicked. “Good. Because I can’t f**king wait to be inside you.”
No man has ever talked to me like this. I love it. I want more. So much more . . .
Moving up, he leans over me, his chest in my face as he reaches for the bedside table and pulls open the tiny drawer. He withdraws a condom from inside, and I’m momentarily stunned.
Though I shouldn’t be. Everyone knows how Archer operates.
Pushing the worry from my head, I lean up on my elbows and press my mouth to the center of his chest. His scent surrounds me, the warmth of his skin, his salty taste. I’m licking a path down to his abs and he pulls away from me, hissing as if I’ve burned him.
“You’re dangerous,” he murmurs, tearing open the wrapper and rolling on the condom. The sight of him entrances me and my heart rate accelerates, my mouth going dry when he catches me staring. He shakes his head with a slight smile curving his perfect, swollen lips. “I want to take my time but I doubt I’ll make it, Ivy. I want you too damn much.”
Again, he stuns me, this time with his words. If I think about it too hard, the entire situation is mind blowing. I’m naked with Archer Bancroft. We’re about to have sex. If someone told me a month ago—heck, a few hours ago—that I would end this night having sex with Archer, I would’ve laughed in their face.
I’m not laughing now, though. More like I’m grabbing for Archer, bringing him down on top of me, his big body pushing me into the mattress. I wrap my legs around his hips, curl my arms around him so I can stroke down his smooth, damp-with-sweat back as our mouths find each other, lazily kissing, nipping at each other’s lips, tangling our tongues.
He tastes amazing. I love the sounds he makes, the way he holds me. And when he slowly slides inside my body, inch by excruciating inch, a shudder sweeps over me, my eyes shutting against the intensity of emotions swirling within. He doesn’t move, doesn’t so much as breathe, and I’m breathless too. I’ve never felt so connected to another person before.