Slow goes straight out the window when I smooth my hand down her side, over her hip, curling my fingers into the fabric of her dress. I hitch it up the slightest bit, my mouth never straying from hers, and I feel her tremble beneath my palm as I slip my hand beneath her skirt.
She tastes amazing, feels even better, and when I touch the bare flesh of her thigh I feel her shudder, a soft gust of breath brushing against my lips as she shakily exhales. Her eyes open and meet mine as I smooth my other hand over her hair, fingers tangling in the loose waves.
“You’re beautiful,” I whisper, because she is. So damn beautiful, I ache with wanting her.
She presses her swollen lips together, her eyes closing as I continue to stroke my fingers through her hair. My other hand is completely still, resting on the outside of her thigh beneath her skirt, and I don’t move for fear she’ll tell me to let her go.
I don’t know if I can.
“Archer,” she whispers, and I kiss her to cut off whatever else she wanted to say. If it was a denial, an argument, a declaration, I don’t care. I don’t want to hear it.
I just want to feel Ivy in my arms, her mouth meshed with mine, our tongues dancing, her entire body trembling as she melts into me. I’ve waited for this moment for what feels like forever.
Finally, I’m holding her. Finally, she’s responding to me like she wants me rather than wanting to kick my ass. While the opportunity presents itself, I’m going to jump all over it. And if that means I get to jump all over Ivy, then I’m going for it.
I let my hand on her thigh inch upward, slowly. Closer to her hip until my fingers skim the lacy scrap of her panties and my dick twitches behind my zipper. The fabric is thin and doesn’t amount to much and I wish I could push her against the ledge, yank her skirt up to her waist, and drink her in.
But we only have a few minutes. I’m desperate to touch her. To make her gasp with wanting me, so I have to be quick.
My mouth never straying from hers, I slip my fingers beneath the thin strip that stretches across her hip and touch bare, soft flesh. Her chest heaves against mine, her br**sts pushing into my chest and adrenaline rushes through me at the way she reacts to my touch.
That reaction emboldens me and I trail my fingers forward, across her hipbone, the soft flesh of her stomach. I can feel the tremors beneath the surface of her skin as I skim my fingers down farther . . . farther . . . until the heat of her engulfs me and I slowly slip my hand between her legs.
“Archer,” she chokes out against my lips when I touch her, test her. She’s drenched, so wet my fingers glide easily over her folds.
“Damn, you’re wet.” She grips my shoulders as if she needs to. Like I’m some sort of lifeline and she’s afraid to let go. “Tell me what you want,” I whisper close to her ear, my fingers between her legs, searching her hot, wet depths. She moves with me, her hips thrusting against my hand and I close my eyes, fighting for control. Scared out of my mind I’m going to come in my pants and make a fool of myself.
She says nothing in reply, just a little whimper when I still my hand, my thumb resting on her clit. “Tell me, Ivy.”
“Touch me.” She tightens her arms around my neck, her hands clenching my hair. “Don’t stop. Please.”
Satisfaction rolls through me as I try my damnedest to make her come and quick. We’re on the terrace of my friend’s wedding reception for Christ’s sake. Her brother—my best friend—is inside. Gage could come out at any time in search of us.
If he caught me with my hand in his sister’s panties and her body draped all over me, I’d be a dead man.
Increasing my tempo, I stroke her clit, watch her face as she reaches for her orgasm. She’s so responsive, already close to coming, I can tell, what with the way her entire body tenses, her hands squeezing my shoulders, her hips moving against my touch. I tilt my head back to watch her, filled with the all-consuming need to see her as she comes all over my hand. Knowing that I’m the one who did that to her. Made her feel like that. Made her want like that.
Me.
A ragged little cry escapes her and she stills, her eyes going wide as they lock with mine. Then she’s coming apart, sagging against me as the orgasm takes over her completely. My name falls from her lips and triumph surges through me. I f**king love it. At least she knows I’m the one who did this to her, who made her feel this way.
Shudders still wrack her body as I lock my mouth with hers, my tongue tangling languidly with hers. Her breaths slow, her grip on my shoulders gradually loosens, and I know she’s coming down off her high.
I don’t want her to lose it. I want to keep her there. That I could make her come like that so fast blows my mind. I know I’ve wanted her for what feels like forever. Has she ever wanted me before this moment?
Breaking the kiss first, I press my forehead to hers, trying to calm my accelerated breaths, my racing heart. I need to gain some control before I lose it. She opens her eyes, staring up at me, all sorts of questions in their hazel depths I can’t begin to answer.
“Come home with me.” The words fall from my lips before I can even stop them.
Her brows furrow. “What?”
“I want you to come home with me.” I press my mouth to hers gently, inhaling her breath. I want more from her. I suddenly want it all from her.
And I have no right to ask for it.
“I don’t know . . .” Her voice trails off when I press kisses to her jaw along her soft neck.