by Lora Leigh
“That wasn’t exactly what I said.”
“That’s exactly what you said. You said you were doing it because you were supposed to. Because it’s your job. Well, I’m not your fucking job, Archer.” She smacked the plate she was holding to the table.
Archer stood up slowly, leaning forward, his hands bracing on the table as he came nearly nose to nose to her. “No, what you are is driving me damned fucking crazy.”
“Then why do you even bother having me here? Why not just go ahead and ship me off to the ranch with Skye and Cami?”
“Because it pleases me at the moment to have you here,” he snarled back at her, feeling his body heating, the need to grab her, to kiss her—
Hell, if he didn’t fuck her pretty soon then he was going to have a stroke from the blood pounding directly to his dick.
“Well, I’m so glad that much pleases you at the moment, because I’ll be damned if I’m in the least bit pleased, Archer Tobias,” Anna snarled back at him. “And since you evidently appreciate dinner, you can take care of the damned dirty dishes.”
She turned to leave.
“Oh, I don’t think so, sweet pea.”
Moving into her path before she could rush from the kitchen, Archer blocked her way. Grabbing her hips, holding her to him, he glared down her as her slender hands pressed against his chest.
“Get out of my way,” she demanded, her voice rough. “Now.”
“Like hell.”
He wasn’t stupid. Her nipples were as hard as his dick was. Her eyes might be spitting fiery anger, but the hunger, the need was just as hot.
*
Despite the anger sizzling through her, Anna could feel arousal beginning to melt inside her womb. There was something about the dark, brooding dominance in his expression and burning in his eyes that almost mesmerized her.
His hands clenched at her hips. “I’m damned tired of trying to stay the hell away from you to keep your stitches from stretching or your exertions from scarring your thigh. So if you’re going to have problems wearing those pretty bikinis if you have a scar, then you better get the hell away from me before I strip your ass down and fuck you until you’re screaming with pleasure.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“You haven’t touched me because you were afraid I would scar my leg from that wound?” she questioned him furiously.
“I don’t give a damn,” he growled. “I said, if it will affect your opinion of yourself or your ability to wear a bikini, then now is the time to say something.”
“My opinion of myself? You think a scar would change my opinion of myself? Do you really think I’m that damned shallow, Archer?”
Her arms went akimbo, her fingers spreading over her hips as one cocked, delicate foot pointed toward him like an exclamation of anger. Archer watched as her lips pursed, her skin flushed, and both anger and burning arousal heated in her gaze.
“No, I don’t think you’re shallow, and neither do I believe the scar should bother you, before you get that one in your head. I just didn’t want to take the chance that it would. The doctor was very specific, Anna. No exertion or there will be a scar.”
“What exertion?” Her arms lifted in exasperation before spreading across her hips once again. “Sex?”
“Sex,” he snapped back, suddenly uncomfortable with that description of being with her. “That wound is at the outside of your thigh. During sex your thigh muscles flex and tighten often, Anna. It could tear the stitches or stretch the newly bound skin.”
“Or maybe you just prefer not to have sex with me any longer.” The sudden uncertain, bleak pain that filled her eyes sliced at his chest.
“Where the hell did you come up with that?” Incredulity snapped through his senses as he stared back at her in disbelief.
“Only a man who no longer wants a woman could come up with something so asinine,” she retorted as moisture shimmered in her gaze. “Because it’s not possible to use your thighs more having sex than you do sitting down, standing up, or walking all damned day long,” she cried out. “Go to hell, Archer, because I know how to pack too, and how to get my own ride out to the ranch with Cami and Skye.”
And that was exactly what she would do.
“Like bloody fucking hell,” he snarled. “I won’t let you deliberately misunderstand this, Anna, just because I’ve done something you didn’t agree with.”
“Oh, is that how you see it?” she snapped, giving him a hard push with her hands flat against his chest. “And exactly why should I stay with a man who arbitrarily believes it’s just fine to make such decisions for me? To force me to do without my pleasure, without one of the few things that son of a bitch, the Slasher, hadn’t been able to take from me. You took it without so much as discussing it with me. I’ll be damned if I need someone who believes they can simply take over my life and control me without so much a by-your-leave.”
Archer almost paused, because she was right. He should have discussed it with her; he should have given her the choice rather than believing it was his place to protect every aspect of her life.
And where he had that idea, he didn’t have a clue.
He wasn’t about to admit that to her though. Instead, Archer shook his head, smiling slowly as he backed her against the kitchen counter.
“That excuse isn’t going to fly,” he warned her.
“I don’t have to have an excuse,” she informed him, sensuality suddenly gleaming in her expression, flushing her face. “I’m right and you know it! You held back my pleasure and my right to an orgasm because you have a damned He-Man complex.”
A slender, delicate finger dug into his chest with each of the last few words of that declaration. But it was the word “orgasm” that tightened his stomach and his balls simultaneously.
Archer glared down at her, his hands tightening at her hips. “Do you really think you’re going to get away from me so easily?”
“Pretty much,” she assured him, her brows arching, her chin tilting defiantly. “What are you going to do, Archer? Arrest me?”
The thought of handcuffing her to his bed held definite appeal.
His cock jerked at the thought, hardening impossibly more.
“Oh sweetheart, you have no idea of the appeal of handcuffing you to my bed.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” But excitement was slowly gathering, burning in her eyes. The challenge burning there was definitely a dare as well. Feminine, rife with arousal and challenging him to control it.
She was right; he had no right to make decisions where her protection was concerned without discussing it with her first. It was a mistake he would not consider making again.
That didn’t mean he was going to let her get away with this little display of hers.
Hell no.
He’d spent far too many years watching out for her, maneuvering to get her home for vacations because he knew that was what she wanted, what she needed.
“I would dare many things, Anna, to ensure your safety.”
“To ensure you kept your playthings about is more like it,” she protested, albeit weakly as his head lowered, his teeth nibbling at the sensitive lobe of her ear.
“Make me your toy then,” he told her. “Come on, Anna. Show me how you play.” He nipped the side of her neck, licked the little wound. “You can even show me how you get serious.”
*
A shiver raced up her spine and heat sparked, hot and tempting, spearing straight to her womb as her pussy began to ache, to clench in hungry need.
“I’ve been dying to see you in these pretty little skirts,” he breathed out roughly, his hands sliding from her hips to her thighs, bunching the soft material in his hands, pulling it up far enough so his hands could cup the curves of her ass, left bare by the silk of her thong panties.
Slick and hot, her juices gushed from her vagina, the feel of them sliding over the sensitive inner flesh dragging a low moan from her.
Archer’s lips covered hers, his tongue licking
over the seam of them. Pleasure washed over her, through her, as his lips sipped at hers, his tongue licked and stroked, penetrating her lips with a slow, sensual glide.
She could be pissed again tomorrow, Anna decided. Tonight she wanted him, ached for him. She’d ached for him for over a week, needed his touch.
Tonight she wanted to fill the loneliness with his touch, the hurt and betrayal with pleasure.
Parting her lips, Anna’s tongue peeked out as his licked over the lower curve of her lips. Her hands, first pressed against his shirt and then moved to the buttons holding the material together.
Clumsy, fumbling, Anna struggled with the too tiny discs until, finally, the last one came free, revealing the hard contours of his chest and the light mat of dark blond curls that tempted her fingers.
Pushing back from him, she stared up at him, and Archer had no idea what was causing his chest to tighten. His body hardened with such feeling that making sense of it was impossible.
“Archer,” she whispered, her hands tightening on the material of his shirt, trying to still the trembling he’d glimpsed.
There was a need in her eyes, a hunger he couldn’t decipher.
Her lips trembled before she stilled them, but she couldn’t erase the unconscious plea in her gaze, which she had no idea she was showing him.
“Whatever you want, Anna,” he said, his lips brushing against hers. He watched her pupils flare, watching the lust, seeing some deeper, darker emotion he couldn’t allow himself to acknowledge in the dark sea-green of her eyes.
Clenching his fingers in the curve of her ass, feeling the muscles clench beneath his hold, had him fighting the need to take her as fast, as hard as possible.
But it wouldn’t be enough, Archer knew. It wouldn’t be enough for him, because he could sense what she was silently aching for, feel it in the tightening of his chest, though he was unaware of exactly what it was.
“Tell me, Anna,” he said. “Tell me what you want, baby. Don’t you know I’d give you anything you asked for? If I have it, it’s yours.”
If he could give it to her without asking, then he would. If he could read the desire raging in her eyes, then he would do whatever he had to, to ensure she had it.
She licked her lips, the sight of her little pink tongue tasting them tightening his balls. Her breathing accelerated, her breasts rising and falling beneath the light, silky material of her white sleeveless blouse.
Her gaze turned somber then, a flash of uncertainty sparking deep in the pretty green orbs.
Archer lowered his lips to her ear again, caressing the curve of the delicate shell as he spoke.
“Whatever you want, baby. Don’t you know, in this, I would give you whatever you want, Anna, however you want it.”
She arched against him, her head tilting to the side to give him greater access to the flesh beneath her ear as he continued kissing the soft curve.
“Please, Archer.” She shook her head, and he could see the uncertainty, the hesitancy raging inside her.
“Don’t you trust me, Anna?” he asked, kissing the corner of her lips. “Do you believe there’s any pleasure you want that could possibly turn me off?”
Her lips trembled.
There were no tears in her eyes, and the need was only growing, burning hotter inside her.
“Archer.” The uncertainty filled her voice.
Lifting his hand, his fingers touched her cheek, his thumb brushing against her lips. “Yes, baby?”
“I want the fairy tale.” Hoarse, nervous, the plea caused him to slowly still as he held her against him. “Just tonight, Archer. Just this once, let me know what the fairy tale feels like.”
The fairy tale.
Archer’s eyes closed.
Burying his face against the curve of her neck, a grimace tightened his expression as he fought to hide it from her.
Just for tonight, his Anna wanted to be loved. She wanted to know what it felt like to be loved, to have someone be “in love” with her.
He didn’t believe in being “in love”; Archer knew what the illusion of it could do to a man though. How it could destroy his life, rip his guts out day by day.
But women—
Love could strip the life from a woman’s soul and leave her drifting, her heart and her soul torn from her body as she existed, nothing more.
He didn’t want that for Anna.
But didn’t she deserve just one dream in her life? Didn’t she deserve just a little illusion to make up for everything that had been taken from her?
But how could he give her that dream?
He was a man who didn’t believe—
She stiffened beneath him.
“Just for tonight,” he whispered, feeling something slowly loosen so deep inside his soul that he had no idea what it was. “Just for tonight, let me love you, Anna.”
CHAPTER 18
There was a hunger in Archer’s kiss that Anna hadn’t felt before, a need she hadn’t known could exist, except in her.
When his lips covered hers, gently—oh God, so gently—his lips moved over hers, rubbing against them, stroking, warming them as sensation mixed with emotion to flare in heated pulses rushing through her.
Wrapping her arms around his neck, Anna parted her lips further as she eagerly accepted the deeper intensity that filled the kiss.
This was what she had needed.
This was what she had ached for.
As Archer’s lips devoured hers, his tongue pushing and teasing hers, the hard curve of his knee tucked high between her thighs. The heated warmth against the sensitive flesh of her silk-covered pussy pulled a moan from her lips. It was so good. It was the most incredible kiss she had experienced. Even in her deepest fantasies she hadn’t known a kiss that fired her blood, her heart and soul, as well as her pleasure, at once.
The slow arch and lift of her hips rubbed the aching flesh against his knee, blindly following the sensations suddenly tearing through her.
Burying her fingers in his hair, Anna licked at his lips as he had hers. As she moved into his kiss, a muted cry of pleasure was lost beneath the harsh male groan that rumbled in his chest. The combined sounds of pleasure moving through her senses, multiplying the intensity of her pleasure.
Tightening her thighs on his knee, Anna slid her fingers from his nape, along his neck, then to his chest. Lowering her other hand, instinct and need guiding her actions, Anna was pushing at the material of his shirt, needing to feel his flesh against her own.
*
As the soft cotton slid over his powerful shoulders, catching on his hard biceps, Archer suddenly lifted himself from her, jerking the shirt off and letting it fall, forgotten, to the floor.
Lowering himself to her again, the sight of the short skirt pushed above the silk of her panties as she rode the hard curve of his knee drew a harsh groan from his throat.
God, what she did to him.
How the hell had he forced himself to wait to have her like this? To touch her, to taste her?
The pleasure was a high he was quickly becoming addicted to.
Fuck, she was killing him.
Lowering his hands to her thighs, Archer pushed the skirt back further. His jaw clenched at the sight of her silk-covered pussy rubbing against his knee, the moist heat dampening her panties.
Holding back a desperate groan, Archer lifted his hands to the buttons of her thin blouse, hurriedly releasing them as her lashes lifted.
Her hands flattened against his stomach, smoothing up over his chest, spreading a heated wave of pleasure over his flesh as the silk of her hands caressed him.
“Anna,” he groaned, as her hands moved to the belt of his jeans.
How the hell was he going to maintain his control when her hunger was like a flame licking over his flesh?
Lifting her, he quickly pushed her blouse from her shoulders, forcing himself to patience as it fell from her arms.
Her fingers loosened his belt, pushed it aside, then tugged at the
snap of his jeans.
“I want to touch you.” The husky need in her voice had his thighs tightening further as she struggled with the zipper of his jeans until it, too, parted beneath her trembling fingers.
Archer breathed in roughly as she parted the jeans, gripped the thick length of his cock, then eased it from the fabric.
The broad head flared, thick and smooth, the flesh dark with the need to fuck her, as Archer eased her back on the couch. Pushing his fingers beneath the skirt he gripped the side of her panties and tore the silk from her hips.
He would buy her more later.
Anna shuddered, exquisite pleasure rushing through her in a wave of fierce, heated sensation.
“Oh God,” she breathed out, the sound ragged and rough as Archer moved lower, spreading her thighs apart as he came down between them.
His fingers brushed against the top of her mound.
Damn, he loved her pussy.
Soft curls covered the mound above her clit. Below them was sweet, silken pink flesh saturated and glistening with slick, hot, feminine honey.
Archer licked his lips, took his finger, and eased it up the narrow slit, feeling the slickness of her wet heat as more flowed from her hot little pussy.
“So pretty,” he murmured, circling the hard, swollen bud of her clit.
He felt mesmerized, fucking drunk on the temptation of that wet heat lying slick and glistening on her swollen folds.
Easing her thighs further apart, Archer felt her heels digging into the couch as her hips arched again, the soft curves of her delicate little pussy parting again, flashing the pretty, soft pink flesh at the entrance of her vagina.
“Archer, I don’t know—” A whimpering moan fell from her lips. “I don’t know—what you do to me.”
The sound of her arousal, the need in her voice, had his muscles tightening, the temptation of her tearing at his control.
“I’m loving you, Anna,” he promised her, his hand flattening against her belly to hold her in place. “I’m loving you, baby.”
And God, how he wished love, the love she ached so desperately for, actually existed. He would give it to her. He would fill her life with it. He would give her so much damned love she would never remember what it felt like not to have love.