It’s frightening. Exhilarating.
“Christ, you feel so good,” he whispers close to my ear as he slowly begins to move. I shift with him, lifting my hips, tightening my legs around him. He’s thrusting faster, almost as if he can’t help himself, and I’m fine with it. More than fine with it. I rock against him, sending his c**k deeper inside my body, and he’s groaning, straining above me, already close. I can see it in the tension in his face, across his shoulders.
He warned me it would be fast but I don’t care. I’m close too. I’ve been on edge since he made me come on the terrace. There’d been no relief with that orgasm. More like it ratcheted me up, helping me realize what I was missing, not being with him like this.
“Say you’re going to come,” he whispers, his ragged voice sending a shiver over my skin. “Say it.” He reaches between us, his fingers slipping over my clit, rubbing circles around it, driving me straight out of my mind.
“Yes,” I moan. “So close.”
Archer rears up on his knees and grasps hold of my waist, pulling me closer as he pounds into me. I watch, breathless at the brutal way he’s handling me, truly f**king me, and I wonder if any man I’ve ever been with has done this. Fucked me like Archer is at this very moment.
That would be a firm no.
The men of my past always handled me gently, as if I were made of glass and might shatter at any moment. Not Archer. He’s all macho, primal fierceness, his hands gripping me, his c**k pounding inside of me, his mouth brutalizing mine. It’s as if he’s completely overcome.
I love it.
Closing my eyes, the familiar sensations threaten to wash over me, and I try to hold them off. Whimpering, I shake my head, pant his name and then I can’t hold back any longer.
I’m coming. Lost in the deliciously warm pulsating sensation as the second orgasm of the night takes me completely over the edge.
He collapses on top of me seconds later, his warm weight comforting, yet making it all feel far too real. His mouth presses to my neck, wet and hot as he whispers unintelligible words. I smooth my fingers down his back, feel the shivers still trembling through him, and I kiss his cheek, murmuring, “You should probably go soon.” I wince the moment the words leave my mouth. I really don’t want him to leave.
But he needs to. If he lingers . . . I might want him to stick around. Then I might do something stupid. Like admit how much I care for him, how much I wish he were a permanent part of my life.
Yeah. He’d flip out and run like a scared little boy if I ever said something like that.
Lifting up so he can meet my gaze, he studies me, his brows furrowed, his mouth curved in a frown. “What?”
Uh oh. Did I say the wrong thing? Come on, Archer isn’t one who lingers in a woman’s bed, is he? “You um, you should probably go, don’t you think? I don’t want my brother to see you sneak out of my room.”
“He’s probably asleep. That guy sleeps like the dead.” Archer’s studying me like I’ve lost my mind.
“Yeah, but . . .” He’s right I’m sure. I don’t want to risk the chance. Besides, I need time alone. I need to process what just happened between us.
“So you’re kicking me out.” He sounds incredulous, looks angry.
“No . . .”
“Yes,” he cuts me off, his voice tight. “I get it, though. Don’t want Gage to find out. I agree with you, actually. He’ll hang me by my balls from a tree, and I happen to like my balls, thank you very much.”
He climbs out of bed, snatching his clothes off the floor impatiently, giving me an unintended eyeful of those very balls he happens to like so much.
Crap, I’ve made him mad. I didn’t mean to but I can’t have him lingering. It’s bad enough what we just did. I don’t do one-night stands, especially with guys I know and run the risk of seeing again. Worse, I don’t want to get attached. Or put expectations on us that this sort of thing might happen again.
Because no way should it happen again. That would be a big mistake. Huge. No more fooling around for Archer and me.
Even though I want to. I hate that I’m pushing him away. His reaction is confusing. He acts like he’s hurt by my denial.
I’m hurt too. More than I would ever dare admit. Deep down inside, I think . . . I want more. For once, I’m ready to take that risk and go for it. Do something so completely out of character just to see what would happen.
“You still want to see Hush later today?” he asks, his voice quiet, his back to me. He has on his underwear, nothing else, and I let my gaze wander over him, drinking in all that pure masculine beauty.
He is beautiful. I wish we had more time. I’d explore every inch of his skin with my mouth, given the chance.
Your chances with Archer just expired.
“Yes,” I answer after I clear my throat. “I would love to see Hush.” We can handle a mistaken sexual encounter between friends, right? Of course we can . . .
“Great. Well, it’s been real,” he says after he slips on his pants, still sounding sort of huffy, and I watch him go without saying another word. He quietly shuts the door behind him.
I flop against the pillows and rest my arm over my eyes, groaning out loud. What the heck is wrong with me? I had amazing sex with a man I’ve known almost half my life, and then I push him out like he’s some sort of stranger I secretly banged.
I can’t help it. I start laughing.