Bound to Be His (The Archer Family Book 2)

by Allison Gatta

  "Fuck," he groaned, his cock pressing so tightly to his zipper that he could hardly focus on anything else.

  With another pang of his wrist, he lifted her from the counter, tossed her over his shoulder, and sprinted to his bedroom as quickly as he could, kicking the door open with no small dose of force.

  "You're so fucking sexy," he said, and then laid her on the bed as gently as he could.

  She still bounced when her body met the springs, and her breasts moved with every bounce, enhancing the already incredible view of her cleavage.

  Fuck me.

  She was staring up at him, her mouth red and swollen from the intensity of his kiss. Another rush of blood surged to his cock when he thought of exactly how red and pouty her lips might get if she took him into her mouth. He could twine his fingers between those strands of soft hair and guide her up and down, up and down...

  He slammed the door shut, never taking his eyes from Shay's greedy, desperate expression.

  How many times had he secretly imagined her like this?

  Never, he supposed. Because in his fantasies, she was always splayed out so he could see every inch of her perfect body, and she was never, ever wearing anything at all.

  "What are we—?" she asked, and his heart panged. The hunger in her eyes was dulling, and he knew if he didn't act now—and fast—she'd be gone. She'd think better of it.

  He just had to make sure she didn't.

  He pulled his shirt over his head, and her jaw ticked before she swallowed hard. "Wow," she said, and he looked down at himself quickly before crossing the room to join her in the bed.

  "It's only fair that we match, don't you think?" he asked, and then, placing himself between the slight part of her supple thighs, he slid his hand over her stomach and pulled up until she lifted her arms and he had a full view of her creamy flat stomach and her emerald lace bra.

  "If I didn't know better, I'd think you wore that for me. I can't wait to find out if your panties match." He flicked his wrist, and then she was laid bare to him, the bra falling to the floor alongside her shirt.

  God, she was gorgeous. It was impossible to decide whether to stare at her stunning, dark eyes or the full swell of her breasts. The tight peaks of her pink nipples.

  He took one in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the little circle before flicking it over the tip over and over again. She arched beneath his touch, inviting him again, and he grabbed a lock of her hair and tugged until—

  "Matt, God." It was breathy and needy and everything a woman's voice should be, and in that moment, he knew he'd never wanted anyone more than he wanted Shay Meyers.

  Still, he couldn't give in. There was beyond enough reason to think that, given her way, Shay was going to change her mind. Hell, for all he knew, she might alter her choice in the next five seconds. But if she didn't? He wanted to get to know as much of her body as he could. To explore her. To taste her.

  To fulfill her.

  He released her nipple with a little pop, and she groaned again before he raked his nails under the curve of her breast.

  When she shivered, it was like winning the goddamn World Series.

  He sucked the other nipple harder and then backed away, blowing hot air and then cool air until her shivering become writhing, and her writhing became something like bucking. She gripped his shoulders, trying to pull her to his mouth again, but he wouldn't allow it. Not until he was done.

  "I need, I need," she moaned, but that was as far as she could manage. He smiled and then ran his nails down either side of her ribs as she shook again and spread her knees wider for him. When she did, he finally had his answer—the panties were the exact same shade of scarlet. Sexy as hell.

  "I know what you need," he said at last, and then he slid her skirt and panties down in one move until she was just as he'd imagined her. Except she was so much better. Her breasts were fuller, her stomach was flatter, and her pussy...

  "Fuck," he murmured.

  It was the most beautiful pussy he'd ever seen, pink and shining with her need. Her clit was swollen and ready for him. All he had to do was duck his head, and she'd be there, all his.

  "What's wrong?" she asked, and when he looked up at her face, all he could do was dive for her mouth and grind his hard cock against her slick center.

  "Ah, ah," she murmured while he moved. "Please."

  He dropped between her legs and licked the space there so greedily that he had to hold her thighs in place to keep her from bucking against his mouth.

  "Matt, Matt, God," she moaned, and with every moan, he swirled his tongue around her clit, rewarding her.

  He pushed two fingers inside her pussy and closed his eyes to keep himself from exploding. Not only did she have the most gorgeous pussy he'd ever seen, but she was so tight that he could hardly move. God, what would his cock feel like inside her as she ached and quaked around him? Another rush of need shot through him at the thought alone.

  "I want you to fuck me. I need you to," she said, and her voice shook with every word.

  "I'll fuck you when I want to fuck you. Until then." He trailed his tongue from her clit all the way down to her opening. "You'll have to be patient."

  She reached for his shoulder and pulled. "I don't want to be patient. I want you. I want to."

  He grabbed each of her wrists and pinned them to her side, and he fucked her with his mouth, harder and faster. "You're going to be patient," he said again, and this time he was met with no protest.

  He couldn't control her forever, though. In fact, he was having a hard enough time controlling himself, so after another moment of writhing and squirming, he pulled back, unzipped his pants, and pulled them down alongside his boxers. When he did, she gasped.

  "You..." she said, but that was the whole of it. She stared transfixed to the place where his cock jutted out, hard and swollen and waiting for her.

  "I want to fuck you now. Spread your legs for me," he rasped, and she lay back obediently, waiting for him. He crawled between her legs and then grabbed each of her wrists and pinned them above her head with one hand.

  "Are you ready for me, baby?" he asked.

  She nodded.

  That was all he needed.

  Gripping himself with his free hand, he pushed inside of her inch by inch and let out a slow, steady groan of, "Fuuuuuuuck."

  If he'd thought he was hard before, it was nothing compared to the pounding, insistent need he felt as soon as he buried himself to the hilt.

  Then? He was lost.

  * * *

  When Shay woke up the next morning, her heart plunged into her stomach and she tossed in bed, hoping to find an empty space beside her. That maybe, just maybe, it had all been a dream and she hadn't really spent the evening moaning in Matt Archer's embrace.

  His strong, warm embrace...

  She shook her head, blinked her eyes open, and stared at the exact empty space she'd hoped to see. She blinked again.

  There was a tiny note on the pillow beside her, and she picked it up cautiously before scanning the sloppily penned words.

  Shay—

  Thought it might not be a good idea to come out of the same bedroom in the morning. Hope you understand.

  Matt

  She leaned back against the pillows and crumpled the note in her fist.

  Okay, there was no way of changing the past. Even if she didn't understand the lunacy of why the hell she'd given in. Why the hell she'd melted under his touch like she'd never been with a man before. Like he was water and she had been dying of thirst.

  The image of his sculpted, naked chest drifted through her mind, and she caught herself smiling.

  Shit. No. This was Matt Archer. He was a client. Andy's brother. Her sworn nemesis.

  She needed to get back to that. Needed to focus on their professional relationship. She needed to... needed to...

  She needed to get the hell out of her own head was what she needed.

  Quickly, she swung her legs over the side of the
bed and jumped to her feet. After dressing in yoga shorts and a tank top, she slipped quietly from the room and then out the sliding door off the living room, out onto the beach.

  She'd go for a run, let the cool ocean air fill her lungs, and clear her head. That was just the ticket.

  Humming "Eye of the Tiger" to herself, she started jogging along the coast, letting the water lap at her naked feet. She closed her eyes, let herself focus on the grit of the sand between her toes, the arch of her feet, as her weight swung from one leg to the other.

  She'd tell Matt that last night couldn't happen again. It was a one off. There was no use analyzing it or trying to figure out why it had happened. The simple fact was that it wouldn't happen again, and that would have to be good enough for her.

  Better than good enough.

  "Hey." A deep voice rumbled beside her, and her heart flipped over in her chest.

  "Holy shit." She gasped.

  "Sorry to interrupt your training montage." Matt sprinted right alongside her, matching her beat for beat. He looked just as he had last night, with his trunk-like forearms bulging at his sides, his angular jaw fixed as he half-smiled at her.

  She took a deep breath. "You surprised me, that's all."

  "Well, I'm not shocked. Who runs around a place like this with their eyes closed?" He gestured toward the ocean and then to the rows of pretty flowering trees and thatched umbrellas. "You must be crazy."

  "Call it temporary insanity." She hedged for a moment, and then went on. "Speaking of which, I think we need to clear some things up."

  "Oh?" Matt raised his eyebrows but didn't have the decency to look concerned.

  "Yeah. Last night. It was a mistake."

  "Was it?" His nonchalance, rather than calming her, made her heart beat faster. Maybe he wasn't hearing her right.

  "Yeah. Look, as far as I'm concerned, it never happened."

  "That's fine." He shrugged.

  She frowned. "That's it?"

  It was a childish reaction, she knew that. It wasn't like she needed him to beg for her to change her mind or anything. But it might have been nice if he cared. At all.

  "Yeah, I mean, just because you decided it didn't happen doesn't mean it won't happen again."

  "That's exactly what it means," she shot back.

  This time it was his turn to frown. "I'm pretty sure it's not. I mean, you can't resist me."

  "I most certainly can."

  "You couldn't last night. And, given how hard I made you come, I think it'll be a hell of a lot harder to work with me without all those old memories coming up. Maybe some curiosity, too. I doubt you've ever been with someone better."

  "You're a cocky bastard," she said, but he only grinned.

  "Only when I know I'm right." He winked.

  Winked. Like he was in on some kind of joke.

  Her heart pounded in a way that had nothing to do with her run. "Matt—"

  "Tell me, have you ever been with anyone better than me?"

  She blinked. To be honest, she'd barely been with anyone besides him. The few sexual experiences she had had were fleeting and far less satisfying. After last night, it felt like she had a whole new meaning for sex all together. Like it could be something deep and powerful and...

  She shook her head. "That's not the point."

  "I think it is." He shrugged. "Don't get me wrong, I liked being with you, too. You're good in bed. The way you wrapped your legs around me—"

  Awareness shot between her thighs at the thought. "Stop. We're professionals. Even if the sex was fun, that's not the point. It can't happen again. We work together."

  "Plenty of people work together and have sex." He shrugged.

  "Not me. I don't mix business and pleasure."

  "Ah, so you admit that I pleasured you?"

  She rolled her eyes and then stopped short, clutching at a stitch in her side. He halted alongside her.

  "Look, I got the message. It never happened and you're not ready for it to happen again," Matt said, and then turning on his heel, he added, "Just know that I'm going to be here for when you are ready."

  And just like that, he strode off toward the villa, never once bothering to look back at her while he went.

  Chapter 6

  For the rest of the week, Matt made good on his promise.

  He acted like nothing had happened between them. Hell, if anything, he was nicer than he'd ever been before. And, apparently by coincidence, much less clothed than usual.

  Every day, the whole group of them would head out to the beach, oftentimes with Andy and Shay lagging behind, their arms laden with binders full of work or wedding information. Then, they'd lay out their stuff, lie back, and take in the sun.

  It should have been soothing, relaxing. Productive, even.

  Instead, it was an exercise in torture.

  No matter how hard Shay tried to focus on work, Matt's low rumble of a laugh would distract her from across the way. He and Logan would be playing Frisbee or surfing on the waves, and she'd catch herself staring at him. Or worse, licking her lips as she watched the beads of water glistening against his broad, hard chest. Thank God Andy was so busy with the wedding, otherwise Shay would have had some serious explaining to do.

  And if Matt noticed? He sure as hell didn't let on to it.

  He treated her like she was just some woman now. Just some friend of his sister's. He didn't ask her questions about whether or not she'd gotten "leied" yet while she was on the island, or any other lewd questions poised to set her off. He was civil. Decent.

  Which, of course, made things that much worse.

  She never realized how she'd grown to kind of sort of like his teasing, his constant attention. And without it?

  She didn't know what to do. Where to go.

  So, when the night of the bachelorette party finally rolled around, Shay thanked God for the opportunity to get out of the house, out of her head, and most of all, out of view of Matt Archer.

  Shay ushered an uncomfortable Andy through the crowd of half-dressed men, and tried to ignore the hoots and hollers coming from the crowd of older ladies they'd brought along with them. Nearly every woman who'd been invited to the wedding decided to tag along for the bachelorette party, and while Shay was happy to have plenty of help urging Andy to act a fool, she was starting to worry that Aunt Frieda and her cronies might just snag all the hot guys before Andy got the chance.

  Still, Shay sat her in the very center of the catwalk and waited while the lights lowered and a new guy strutted onto the stage to the tune of "Dude Looks Like a Lady."

  "This is a... confusing choice of song," Andy grumbled while the dude, who had hair down to his shoulders and did, indeed, look like a lady, began to grind his ass against the pole.

  "I'm sure it'll get better." Shay plucked two drinks from the tray of a nearby waiter and dropped the payment in their stead, and then watched as Andy gaped at the gyrating man in front of her.

  "What's the big shock? Logan doesn't do this at home?" Shay giggled.

  "Can you imagine?" Andy shook her head. "You know, his fraternity had one of those bachelor auctions once and he and Matt both threatened to do something like this."

  Shay felt her smile flicker, but she did her best to hold it in place. Matt. Why could she not get away from that guy? Talking about him. Thinking about him.

  And what exactly he'd look like if he got up there and showed the world what he was working with.

  "You're kidding." Shay forced her grin a little more.

  "Nope. Logan chickened out, but you know Matt." Andy rolled her eyes. "He got up there in a cop uniform and made more money than all of the guys combined."

  Shay had no doubt of that. Matt in his baseball uniform was one thing. But him in a police uniform? She could just picture his muscles rippling under the black dress shirt, the badge pinned to his broad chest, and the handcuffs... God, what he could probably do with those handcuffs.

  "He's a hoot," Shay said, and then wanted to thun
k her forehead with her palm.

  He was a hoot? What else was he, the bee's knees? The cat's pajamas?

  "He's something all right," Andy said, apparently ignoring Shay's momentary lapse. "I hope he's not giving you too hard of a time. I know he can be a pain in the balls when he wants to be."

  "He usually wants to be," Shay offered.

  Andy sipped her drink and nodded. "That's my dear old brother."

  Mercifully, the subject shifted, and as they watched more dancers gyrate and grind on stage, Andy really started to enjoy herself whilst progressively drinking every cocktail a little bit faster. At least as far as Shay could make out between the slurred edges of her words.

  Andy shouted along with the music and then shoved a dollar onto the stage in front of her.

  Shay laughed, and Andy beamed back at her. "Thanks for taking me out tonight. You're a good friend."

  "Don't mention it," Shay said. "What are maids of honor for?"

  "I guess you're right. Cheers." Andy clinked her glass to Shay's.

  They both drank—thankfully by now they'd switched to beer, and Shay watched her friend from the corner of her eye. All night, Andy had been grinning, talking about Logan and the wedding, chatting about all the amazing hopes and dreams she had for the future.

  It was the happiest Andy had ever been in all the years they'd known each other, and Shay had known her for a very long time.

  Still, as overjoyed as she was for her friend, a part of her stung with jealousy every time she took in Andy's smiling face. Shay wanted to feel that way, too. To have a reason for privately laughing to herself or getting lost in memories of a torrid love affair.

  Or, one very specific torrid love affair.

  "How long has it been since Matt had a serious girlfriend?" Shay asked, hoping the buzz of alcohol would dull the suddenness of her question.

  Andy let out a long whistle. "Probably never."

  "Never? Not one?" Shay raised her eyebrows.

  "Who are you to judge? I can't say that I remember seeing you with anybody serious in all the time I've known you."

  "I..." Shay swallowed.

  That couldn't be right. She'd dated, after all. She'd dated plenty. There was John and Paul and... and...