Crave

by Monica Murphy

  But what Archer said . . . it bothers me. I don’t have a stick up my ass, do I? I’m not uptight. I swear I’m not uptight.

  Maybe I can be a little controlling, but never stick-in-the-ass uptight . . .

  Whipping out my phone, I send my friend Wendy a quick text and wait anxiously for her reply.

  She responds in seconds, which impresses me since I know she’s out on a date tonight.

  No, you’re NOT uptight. Who told you that? Let me gues . . . Marc. What an asshole.

  Laughing, I shake my head. I appreciate her immediate defense of me. That’s what friends are for, right?

  Not Marc, I respond. Someone else. Someone I’ve known since high school.

  Since I met Wendy in college, I don’t think I’ve mentioned Archer to her, have I? God, I don’t know. We talk about all sorts of stuff. She’s my closest friend.

  So of course I’ve mentioned Archer to her.

  One of your brother’s friends? She texts back.

  Yeah.

  Which one? Let me guess . . . Archer Bancroft. He’s hot. But he also must be a complete asshole for calling you uptight.

  Laughing, I type her a quick reply. “Isn’t that the truth,” I mutter.

  “Isn’t what the truth?”

  Gasping, I whirl around to see Archer standing there, his hands shoved in his pockets and looking absolutely miserable.

  Good.

  Oh, and also absolutely gorgeous, which sucks. Why, oh why, did this man have to be so handsome?

  “That you’re an asshole?” I smile as serenely as possible, ignoring the buzz of my phone indicating I have another text. I shove it in the pocket of my dress, thankful it came with one. A girl and her phone can never part.

  “Listen, I came out here to tell you I’m sorry.” He runs a hand through his hair, messing it up completely. Which of course makes him even sexier, and that’s so unfair it’s ridiculous. “It’s just . . . every time we’re together, we somehow end up arguing.”

  “I can’t help it if you’re rude,” I say with a sniff. I sound like a complete snot but I don’t care.

  “You push all my buttons,” he admits, his voice quiet and edged with a mysterious darkness that sends a thrill shooting down my spine. He keeps his eyes trained on me as he slowly draws closer.

  “Right back at you.” Why do I sound so breathless? It doesn’t help that he’s stopped directly in front of me, his big, broad body obliterating everything else until he’s all I can see.

  “I’m hoping you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me.” He reaches out his hand toward me and I stare at it, not sure what he wants me to do. “Please?”

  Did Archer Bancroft just say please? I’m sure this is a rare moment in history. “Why do you care about having my forgiveness?” I keep my gaze trained on his hand for fear he’ll see the confusion and emotion in my eyes.

  Shit. What is wrong with me?

  “Fuck, Ivy, why do you always have to be so difficult?” His hand drops.

  I chance looking up at him, see the irritation and frustration written all over his face and I’m so overcome with the need to comfort him I take a step forward, ready to grab hold of his hand and . . .

  And what?

  “Archer?” A woman’s voice calls from nearby, causing the both of us to look at each other. The slightly panicked look on his face indicates he knows exactly who this woman is.

  “Who’s looking for you?” I ask.

  “No one.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Clearly someone is, since I can hear her call your name.”

  “She’s not important. I went on one dinner date with her, Jeff, and Cecily a long time ago. She had us married and planning for babies by the end of it,” he says irritably, glancing over his shoulder.

  “What’s her name?”

  He turns to me. “What?”

  “Her name? The no one who’s looking for you?”

  “I, uh . . . don’t remember.” He runs a hand through that sexy hair again, strands falling over his forehead, and I’m filled with the sudden urge to push his hair out of his eyes. Comb my fingers through it.

  Stop!

  I need to remember he’s a complete jackass. I should run. Right now. In fact, I’m fully preparing to let him know exactly how much of an ass I think he is when the woman’s voice sounds again, closer this time as she continues to call Archer’s name like some worried owner looking for her pet dog.

  “We should—oh.”

  He practically shoves me against the railing, the rough concrete scratching my back through the thin fabric of my dress and he immediately slips his arm around my waist, protecting me. Holding me. His chest is against mine, my breasts pressed flush to him, and I release a skittering breath, my mind hung up on having him too close.

  “What are you doing?” I whisper, incredulous.

  “Shh.” He rests his hand over my mouth, silencing me. His palm is big and warm, his fingers long, and I swear his skin tastes the slightest bit salty, not that I’m licking him or anything.

  Oh God, I think . . . no, I know I want to lick him. Desperately. Slip one of those long fingers in between my lips and suck. And that is just so, so wrong . . .

  “Maybe she won’t find us,” he whispers, dipping his head so his gaze meets mine. “Stay still.”

  I slowly nod, his hand still over my mouth, his eyes locked with mine. His touch gentles as he takes another step closer and I want to melt at his nearness.

  “Archer, are you back here?”

  I flick my eyes to the left and see the woman. She’s standing about fifty feet away, her head whipping this way and that, almost frantically searching, and I press farther against the ledge at the same time Archer steps into me. His arm is still around my waist, protecting me from the rough concrete, and he’s standing so close I can hardly breathe.

  There’s a giant pine tree giving us cover, throwing shadows over the corner we’re standing in, and I don’t think the woman can really see us. She’s oblivious to the fact we’re not that far from her.

  Which I’m thankful for. I shouldn’t be. I should be kicking Archer in the shins and letting the woman know he’s right here and then throwing him to the she-wolf. Let him deal with the poor soul he rejected God knows how long ago who still harbors a thing for him.

  He’s a complete womanizer. I’d be wise to stay away from him.

  My head tells me this. But my body is singing a completely different tune.

  Our gazes lock, his thumb sweeps back and forth across my cheek so slowly I want to die. It feels so good. This . . . is not right. His nearness confuses me. The way he looks at me, touches me, it makes me want him.

  Desperately.

  My earlier thoughts come rushing back, when I was being all “woe-is-me” wishing for a random stranger to make out with in a dark corner. Being with Archer like this is the next best thing. He’s looking at me like he’s thinking the same thing I am. Which is scary.

  Exhilarating. Exciting.

  As I stare up at him, I see how absolutely perfect his lips are. How come I never noticed this before? And when his tongue darts out to lick them, why are my knees suddenly shaking?

  Oh, this is bad. So, so bad.

  The woman finally gives up and leaves and I slump against the railing, ready for him to move away from me. Ready for him to grab me by the hips and lift me up onto the concrete ledge so I can wrap my legs around him and beg him to do me.

  Wait, what? I so can’t do that. Clearly, I’ve had too much to drink, if two glasses of champagne could be considered excessive drinking. Which it must be, because I am making absolutely no sense.

  “Ivy . . .” His hand slips from my mouth to cup my cheek, his thumb drifting across the corner of my lips. “I’m sorry.”

  His touch distracts me as I try to frown. He’s doing everything I longed for not even an hour ago. Touching my face, nestled against me in a dark corner where anyone could find us. “What are you apologizing for?”

&nbs
p; He cradles my face with his big, warm hands and dips his head, his gaze locked on my mouth for a long, breathless moment before he lifts his lids, his dark eyes meeting mine. “This,” he whispers just before he kisses me.

  Chapter Three

  * * *

  Archer

  I TAKE IT slow for fear Ivy will push me away, and at this very moment that’s the last thing I want to happen. Her lips part easily when I persist and within moments she’s completely open to me, her tongue sliding against mine. She winds her arms around my neck, her fingers buried in my hair, and I groan at her touch.

  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 breasts 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 fucking 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.

  “Stay the night with me,” I whisper against her throat. “Say yes, Ivy.”

  “Yes.” The word falling so easily from her lips sends pleasure rippling through me. Lifting my head, I kiss her, drown in her like a starving man, telling myself I need to stop now before I lose all control and take her right here on the goddamn terrace.

  “Jesus, Archer, you can’t even keep your dick in your pants at a fucking wedding reception? What the hell is wrong with you?”

  I let go of Ivy so fast at the sound of Gage’s voice, I hear the click of her heels as she stumbles, though thank God she doesn’t fall. Turning quickly, I face him, doing my best to compose myself. The way I’m standing hides Ivy completely and I wish like hell Gage hadn’t found us.

  “What are you doing out here?” I ask with a snarl, feeling like an asshole. I shouldn’t have let Ivy go like that. Like I’m ashamed to be seen with her.

  More like she should be ashamed to be seen with me.

  “Looking for you. And I was looking for Ivy. I see that you’re preoccupied, though . . .” Gage’s voice trails off when he glances around my shoulder to see Ivy standing directly behind me. “What the fuck? Ivy, what are you doing out here with him?”

  “Nothing,” I say for the both of us. “She, uh . . . she was having a bad night. I was trying to comfort her.” Holy hell, what a choice of words.

  Gage’s frown is so fierce he looks like he wants to tear me apart. But his expression is also a mixture of doubt and disbelief. As if he can’t believe the two of us are out here together. “Archer, I swear to God if you laid one finger on her . . .”

  “I didn’t,” I assure him, lying through my teeth. “I didn’t touch her. Did I touch you, Ivy?”

  She steps up so she’s standing beside me, her body tense. Damn, I hope I didn’t make her angry with my remark. “What did you ask?”

  Shit. I did make her angry. She sounds furious.

  “You be
tter not have fallen for this dick’s charms,” Gage says, pointing his finger in Ivy’s face. “You know how he is.”

  Lifting her chin, she glances at me out of the corner of her eye. “I know exactly how he is.”

  I now feel like a bug Ivy’s ready to squash with her pointy heel. “Like I would mess with your sister, Gage. Come on. I’m not that stupid. I know you’d kick my ass if I so much as looked at Ivy the wrong way.”

  Gage stares at the both of us for long, quiet seconds. Seconds that feel like they stretch into hours, they’re so uncomfortable. Doesn’t help that Ivy is fuming mad. She practically has steam coming out of her ears, not that I can blame her.

  I fucked up with her. Again.

  What else is new?

  Ivy

  FOR A GROWN man who runs a multibillion dollar business, Archer Bancroft is a complete idiot when it comes to women.

  My body was still shaking from the most amazing orgasm I’d ever experienced in my life when Gage stumbled upon us, giving Archer crap for fooling around with a woman on the terrace. Not that I blame my brother. It’s such an Archer thing to do and here he is, doing it with me.

  Shocking.

  I hate to admit it, but Archer completely rocked my world. As in, no other man has ever made me come like that. Or come, period. I was ready to say yes to his asking me to come home with him. Passing up an opportunity to have sex with him after five amazing minutes with his fingers between my legs? I’m not stupid. I know sex with Archer would’ve been amazing. I came so fast, it’s almost embarrassing.

  Then Gage had to appear. And Archer had to open his mouth and completely ruin the entire moment.

  I’m an idiot to think there could ever be anything real between us. Whatever just happened surely meant nothing to him. An opportunity to get with me—get with any woman really—and mess around for a few minutes. He’s a known player.

  And I just got played.

  “I’m leaving soon,” Gage finally says, his gaze falling on me. Since I came with him to this stupid wedding, I know what he’s going to say next. “Are you ready to go, Ivy?”