by Darcy Rose
What does that mean for me?
His eyes travel over my body, and I can’t help but shrink a little when it’s obvious he disapproves. He reaches out and takes the bag from my shoulder, then starts peeling off my jacket.
“What are you doing?” I cross my arms over myself and try to pull away, but it’s no use.
“I’m getting you out of these awful clothes. They stink like that place. The grocery store, the diner, the gym. That rathole of an apartment.”
He must notice how hard I’m shaking now because something in his voice changes. He’s not scolding me when he takes my chin in the palm of his hand. “I’m not going to hurt you. I swear.”
I wish I could believe him. I want to believe him. He’s just so… much. So tall, so gorgeous, so overwhelming. I wonder if a woman has ever told him no in his entire life.
I don’t know if I have it in me to be the first.
“Do you believe me?” His eyes lock onto mine, staring deep into them. Like he’s trying to stare into my soul. “Do you believe I’ll never hurt you, Madison? I need you to believe that.”
Even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t dare say it. Besides, what’s the harm in taking a bath? If he wanted to force me into something, to hurt me, he could’ve done it by now. Many times over.
When I nod, he continues sliding the jacket over my shoulders, down my arms. “Good. You’ll feel better after a hot bath. I bet you could use one after all the work you did today. You must be sore all over.”
Once the jacket’s gone, he starts to pull up my T-shirt. I have to draw the line there, crossing my arms over my chest again. I’m not shaking this time, even though my nipples tighten to the point of pain, and my skin flushes hot when I imagine him looking at my naked body. “I can manage the rest, thanks.”
He accepts this with a slight smirk. “Got it. I’ll find you something to wear. All you have to do is soak in the tub and wash off the grime of that life.”
That life. What other life is there?
Right after he leaves the room, I quickly undress. I almost leave my underwear on just in case he comes back, but decide it’ll to be useless anyway. As I sink into the steaming water, I can’t help but wonder what else Archer has in store for me.
6
Archer
Why do I feel like I’m getting this all wrong? Why is she so scared of me?
Well, that’s a stupid question. I did kill someone in front of her. A fact that I keep forgetting about. Something I definitely shouldn’t forget but do because Madison is taking up all my thoughts.
I hate that she feels like she has to cover herself up in front of me. Like she’s got to be on her guard. She doesn’t realize that I would never hurt a hair on her head, doesn’t know I would kill someone for causing her pain.
Just then, I realize how deep my obsession has gone, which is extremely alarming since I’ve only known her for a day.
Somehow, I manage to wait a while before knocking on the bathroom door. Just a gentle tap with my knuckles before I push the door open. Good girl, not locking the door on me. Though, it wouldn’t keep me out, either way.
She ducks in the water until it’s up to her chin. Still hiding. I leave a pair of sweats, a T-shirt, and socks on a stool next to the tub. “You can put these on once you’re finished. And here.” I pull a couple of towels from the linen closet and leave them for her, too.
“Thank you.” Her eyes are so wide, bulging like they’re about to fall out of her head. And they only get wider when I crouch next to the tub.
“What do I have to do to prove myself to you?” I reach out, taking a wet strand of hair—like gold now that it’s wet, darker than usual—and tuck it behind her ear. “When are you going to believe I only want to keep you safe? You need protecting.”
“Do I?” It’s hardly a whisper.
“Yeah. You do.” I want to do a lot more than touch her hair, but what matters right now is keeping her calm, like soothing a scared rabbit. So, I stand instead. “Take as long as you want. I’ll make you something to eat.”
“I don’t—”
“You haven’t eaten today. At least, not much.” I leave her there before she can argue anymore and go to the kitchen. I’m glad to find cold cuts and fruit in the fridge. Though I worry. Does she like cold cuts? What’s her favorite kind? Does she have allergies? I need to find these things out so I can stock everything she likes. I wish there had been more time to prepare, but what’s the alternative? Letting her go back to that apartment? I don’t think so. Not ever again.
By the time she’s out of the tub and dressed, looking like a little kid playing dress-up in Dad’s clothes, I’m carrying a tray of sandwiches and milk. “Come on.”
“Where are we going now?” Instead of answering, I lead her to the master bedroom at the end of the hall, facing out over the street.
“Wow.” It’s a breath, nothing more. She freezes in the doorway, looking around with her mouth hanging open. “This is gorgeous.”
She’s gorgeous. This is just an apartment. “My father bought it for me. He made sure we were all taken care of, my brothers and me. I didn’t wanna live in the family mansion anymore.”
“Why not?”
There isn’t enough time to explain why I needed a little space for myself. Just the fact that she’s so into the apartment and thinks it’s something great tells me she’s always lived the kind of life I’m trying to get her away from. “Here. Eat.” I leave the tray next to the king-size bed and wait for her to sit down.
She starts slow, but it’s obvious how hungry she is. One or two tentative bites, and all of a sudden, she starts wolfing it down. I have to hold myself back instead of reaching for her and pulling her close and telling her she’ll never be hungry like that again. She’ll never have to be afraid or lonely or so exhausted from working three jobs.
When she’s finished, I ask, “Feeling better?”
She nods with a funny little smile like she’s embarrassed, and I can breathe easier knowing she’s satisfied. I made that possible. “Yeah, much. I didn’t know how hungry I was.”
“That’s usually how it goes. Not until you start eating.” I take the tray from her and leave it on the dresser, watching her in the mirror. She’s still so tense, like she’s ready to bolt if she needs to.
I’ve never so much as had a woman in my home, much less kept one with me. I don’t know how to act, what to say. I know I can be a little intense, and she clearly doesn’t react well to that. I don’t know any other way to be, that’s the problem. Especially when there’s something I want as much as I want her.
“You must be tired.” I turn back to her, noting the circles under her eyes. It would freak her out too much if I mentioned the way she flipped the light on last night while I was watching from outside her building. Like she couldn’t sleep.
Of course, she couldn’t. She watched something that would make a normal person lose sleep. A civilian. Somebody in the other world, the so-called real world outside of the world I live in. For me, pulling the trigger is a job. It’s how I protect what’s mine.
Not so for her. The look on her face. The terror in her eyes when I turned and found her standing there, watching me commit murder.
Her mouth falls open in a huge yawn, and she giggles. As if she could get any sweeter. “Yeah, I am. Exhausted.”
“You should lie down.”
There she goes again, stiffening up. It’s enough to drive me crazy. “Come on. Relax. I told you, I don’t want to hurt you. All I want is what’s best for you, and right now, you need to sleep.”
Instead of thanking me, she frowns. “Why do you want to make sure I’m okay? What’s your endgame?”
I shouldn’t laugh at her, but I can’t help it. “Where would I even begin to explain?” She’s still frowning as I approach the bed, so I somehow find the strength to stop myself instead of pinning her to the mattress and ravishing her until she screams. It’s almost too much to fight against, but I manage it. “For
starters, you deserve to have somebody to look out for you. You need somebody. Do you think you could last long, walking home in the middle of the night? You’ve been lucky up until now, but that was bound to end. That’s where I come in.”
I gesture to the bed. “Let me help you here.” She gets up, and I pull down the blankets, which she slips under before curling up on her side. Defensive, protecting herself.
“What are you doing?” She pushes herself up on one elbow when I walk around to the other side of the bed, dropping my jeans as I do, kicking off my shoes.
“What do you think?” I stop short of rolling my eyes, but just barely. “Don’t worry. You’re perfectly safe. But I’d like to get a little sleep tonight, too.”
“I don’t have to sleep here—”
“Yes. You do.” There’s no room for argument in my voice, and she must know that since she lowers herself to the mattress again. I turn out the bedside lamp, plunging us into darkness. “Go to sleep now.”
It takes a few minutes for her breathing to even out, to slow down like every passing minute in which I don’t grab her grants her a little more peace. Finally, she relaxes, and it sounds like she might have fallen asleep.
I can breathe easier, too, once she does. I don’t need to do anything but lie here with her, listening to her breathe as she dreams. This is enough. Being close to her this way, knowing she’s safe because she’s right here next to me, is enough.
The creaking of the bedsprings wakes me up. I don’t know how much time has passed, and I didn’t even mean to fall asleep, but Madison’s not the only one who didn’t get any sleep last night.
She’s trying to leave. Trying to sneak out of bed and leave. Was she planning on this? Or did she wake up, find me sleeping and decide at the last second to take a chance?
My growl cuts through the darkness and makes her gasp. “What part of you aren’t going anywhere, don’t you understand?” I pull her close before she can get up, her body flush against my chest. “You’re staying with me. You’re not leaving.”
“But—”
“No buts.” My arm is a steel band around her. She can fight all she wants, but she isn’t getting away. “You’re here with me now. That’s all there is to it, Madison.”
I can’t stand having her this close, in my arms with her tits pressed against my chest, and her heart hammering away. That sweet scent I noticed last night can’t be her shampoo since she washed her hair in the bath, and while I learned a lot about her today, I didn’t learn the brand she uses.
It must be her. Whatever it is that makes her so special. Whatever it is that makes her impossible to forget.
What the fuck is she doing to me?
Right now, she’s shaking in my arms. I don’t want that. I want her to be comfortable. To trust me. I slide a hand down her back. “Relax.” All she does is stiffen up and hold her breath. “I’ll never hurt you. I only want you to trust me.”
She’s trying, I can tell. But it’s not enough. I want her to melt against me. I want her to wind herself around me and cling to me and writhe while moaning my name.
Her breath catches when my hand skims the curve of her ass. But she doesn’t push me away—in fact, she moves closer, thrusting her hips against mine.
So, the angel isn’t so angelic. I didn’t think she would be under the right circumstances, with the right man touching her, exploring the curves of her body, testing the softness of her flawless skin.
I slide my hand under the waistband of her sweats and groan when I remember she’s not wearing underwear. That’s one thing I don’t have lying around, women’s panties. Good thing, since I don’t want anything standing in the way of touching her. Dipping into her heat.
“Archer…” It’s the sweetest sound in the world, a symphony. She arches her back, gasping when I find her slit. “Please…”
She’s so slick, dripping wet, and I want nothing more than to shove my face between her thighs and lick up every drop. The only thing that stops me is knowing she’ll freak out.
Right now, all that matters is getting her to relax. Getting her to rest. There’s nothing better for that than coming hard, and that’s what I’m going to make her do.
Her fingers bite into my shoulders as I part her lips, sliding my finger through her slickness, feeling how hot she is at her core—that welcoming heat, inviting me in, drawing me closer. Instead of pushing inside, I move up to the hard nub under her mound.
“Oh, my god!” She clenches around me, moving her hips, moaning as I tease her, swirling my finger around the very tip, circling, teasing out another moan and another. Learning how she likes it. How she needs to be touched. What lights her up, what makes her build and build until she—
“Fuck! Oh, Archer! Oh, my god!” She buries her head in my shoulder, spasming, thighs clamping around my hand as she comes apart. I’m hard as a fucking diamond and dripping precum in my boxers, but that doesn’t matter right now.
All that matters is holding her. Letting her ride it out. Kissing her forehead, her cheek, her neck as she comes down. Her breathing slows along with her heartbeat against my chest.
The most precious thing ever born, clinging to me, finally relaxing against my body now that I’ve made her come. She falls asleep without another word, and after a while, I do, too.
7
Madison
Thud-thud. Thud-thud. Thud-thud.
What’s that beat running through my head? Slow, measured, even. My head rises and falls a little. Then again.
Oh, my god.
My eyes fly open, and… yes, it’s as bad as I just imagined.
I fell asleep on Archer’s chest. How long have I been like this? Oh, my god, did I drool on him? I do that sometimes when I’m out cold, and I was definitely out cold until just now. I don’t think I’ve slept that soundly in months. Maybe years.
Because I was exhausted, right? Sure, that’s what I want to tell myself as my entire body flushes. I know better, though. He knocked me out cold.
And I can’t believe he did it. I can’t believe I let him do it.
More than anything, I can’t believe how much I wanted him to.
I was terrified at first. What was he going to do? How far would he go? He was too strong for me to get away and too fast. I wouldn’t have been able to stop him.
Turns out, I didn’t want to. Not when he touched me like he did. I never imagined that, not in my wildest dreams, the feeling of burning up from the inside out. Like I was going to explode, all because he brushed a hand over my—
The thought makes me blush even harder than before.
I’m careful as I raise myself up off his very firm, surprisingly comfortable chest. This is the first time I’ve ever shared a bed with anybody, man or woman. I hope I didn’t snore or anything worse. I don’t have the first idea of co-sleeping etiquette.
He’s still sleeping, breathing evenly. The scruff on his cheeks is thicker than it was when we first met. I have to resist the urge to reach up and run a hand over his face to test the roughness. Sleep is funny like that. Even the most intimidating person seems a lot less so when they’re asleep.
And he’s definitely intimidating. Controlling. Demanding. Oh, and a killer. I can’t let myself forget that part.
Shouldn’t I be terrified of him? I was once, just a few short hours ago, wasn’t I? Convinced he was biding his time before murdering me. Am I terrified now, though?
No. Not anymore. Do I feel completely comfortable? Absolutely not. Do I wish he would tell me what this is all about and why it’s so important for me to stay with him? Very much. I can’t make sense of any of this. Why I’m here, what he wants with me. To make sure I don’t tell, probably, but would that necessarily come with a bath and everything else that happened last night? No. He doesn’t have to be caring or even nice. He could lock me in a spare room if that was what he wanted.
None of this makes sense. He hasn’t hurt me… yet. He swears he doesn’t want to.
What does
he want, though?
Then something else hits me—real life.
And right away, I feel that sick rush of adrenaline. “Oh, no!” I can’t believe this. I didn’t even think to check the time. The little clock on one of the two nightstands reads quarter to nine. I missed my shift at the grocery store and am now late for the diner. My heart starts to race and only gets worse when Archer sits bolt upright, eyes open wide.
“What is it?” He jumps up out of bed, and for a second, all I can think about is an animal ready to attack. Two seconds ago, he was fast asleep. Is this how he always lives? Never able to rest, ready to fight at the drop of a hat?
“Sorry,” I whisper. “It’s just that I’m gonna be late for the diner. I have to be in by nine.”
It takes him a second to process this. He scrubs a hand over his head, making his dark hair stand on end. This is the first time I’ve ever seen him look human. Like he’s not completely in control, a little groggy.
He breaks out of it fast enough. “That’s all? Don’t worry about that,” he scoffs.
I hate to break it to him, but not everybody’s daddy bought them a fabulous apartment to live in. “I have to work. I can’t afford to lose my job. Literally.”
He blinks hard. I don’t know whether he’s blinking away sleep or trying to understand me. “You don’t have to worry about that.”
“Says who?”
“Says me. Who do you think?” He sits on the bed with a sigh. “You’re okay now. That’s what this is about. You don’t have to ever work again—especially not where you were before. It’s amazing you were never mugged.”
“Actually, I was mugged before.” When his eyes darken, and his jaw tightens, I add, “It happened a long time ago, and I wasn’t hurt.”
“I don’t see how you can make jokes when it’s your safety on the line.” The tension in his expression eases. “Which is why it’s good that I came into your life when I did. If you won’t take your safety seriously, at least I know I will.”