Crave

by Monica Murphy

  I feel like I’m seeing all the bits and pieces that make him up. It’s rather fascinating, though I tell myself I most definitely should not be fascinated. What happened between us was a mistake. Why I can’t seem to remember that, I’m not exactly sure.

  Hormonal issues maybe? Yes, that must be it.

  After breakfast, he takes us for a tour, showing us the gorgeously landscaped grounds with what seems like miles of lush green grass spread around the facility. The rolling hills that surround the hotel location are dotted with the vineyards’ neat rows and my eyes are constantly drawn to their simple, efficient beauty. The day is crisp and clear, the sky a startling blue, the sun warm on my skin, and I glance around in utter amazement, overwhelmed with all the natural beauty that’s surrounding me.

  “You like it?” Archer asks, sounding eager.

  “I do.” I smile up at him, unable to contain it. I don’t want to give him any wrong ideas, but wow, I’m blown away with his resort. “The location is unreal.”

  “My father bought the property years ago, before I was even born,” Archer explains, his gaze going to the vineyards, just like mine does. “The old Bancroft Hotel in Napa that’s not too far slowly turned into a complete loser, a financial drain. Couldn’t turn a profit, was considered in a less-than-ideal location.”

  “I’m surprised,” I say, interrupting him. He turns to look at me, his eyebrows raised, and I shrug. “Just the beauty of the location alone is breathtaking. And you haven’t taken us inside any of the buildings yet besides the restaurant. I’m sure I’ll become even more impressed.”

  Gage wanders off, seemingly bored with the conversation, but I’m sure he’s heard it all before. Funny, how Archer and I have never spent any sort of time alone together like this. Until now.

  “Well, I had the original hotel building razed when my father sent me out here. I started over completely from scratch. And when I say it wasn’t an ideal location, it’s because so many other hotels were built in another, much more populated area. This one was considered out of the way.” He slips his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, looking so gorgeous as the breeze ruffles his dark hair I want to lunge at him. Grab hold and never let go.

  I keep myself in check instead.

  “You’ve done an amazing job,” I say softly. “You must be proud.”

  “Yeah, I am.” He smiles, his eyes warm. “It wasn’t easy. My father sent me out here to fail.”

  I frown. “He did?”

  “Of course he did. He had no faith in me. I was a world-class screwup, I’ll admit it. I didn’t want to work, not directly for him, at least. So he said since I thought I knew what the hell I was doing, he’d give me this.” Archer’s smile turned rueful. “I showed him, didn’t I?”

  “How long ago was that?” I knew his relationship with his father wasn’t the best, but to send his son out to purposely fail with a bad location? Awful.

  “Over three years ago. Construction took a solid ten months to a year and we opened when only a few buildings were completed, expanding as each one was finished. Hush made Bancroft a lot of money in the first six months it was open.” He studies the vineyards in the near distance, his expression serious, not the usual smiling, charming Archer.

  My heart aches for him, no matter how much I tell it to stop.

  I’m impressed with his success story. I remember how it was when we were younger. His dad constantly disappointed in him. His mother never around, or always drunk and crying over the way her husband treated her. No wonder Archer spent all of his time at our house when he and Gage became such good friends. My parents weren’t perfect, but at least they get along for the most part and they have a relatively normal relationship.

  No drunken yelling or icy-cold neglect.

  “Such a great story,” I say, wincing the moment the words fall from my lips. More like such a lame comment for a truly amazing accomplishment.

  “Yeah, well, tell that to my father.” His voice is tight, as is his jaw.

  I hate that he feels this way. He should be proud of what he’s done in such a short amount of time, versus fixated on his father’s shoddy treatment of him over the years.

  “Is this hotel part of the Bancroft chain or is it separate?” I’m not quite sure why I’m asking him this, but I have to know.

  “It’s all mine. He signed it over to me.” He turns to look at me. “I told you he thought I would fail. He had no problem giving it to me figuring I would lose my ass over it.”

  The pain in his voice is undeniable. “You certainly proved him wrong,” I say softly.

  “Sure as hell did.” His gaze meets mine, dark and mysterious, his mouth grim. My heart flutters and I step toward him. Somehow wanting to offer him comfort, solace, something. Anything. He’s hurting and it makes me hurt for him.

  “What made you decide to create a resort like Hush in the first place?” I’m desperate to change the subject. The last thing he ever wants to talk about is his dad or his mom.

  “I knew it would turn a profit.” He waves a hand. “You know how many people I’ve heard complain that their sex life was dead after being in a relationship for too long? That they didn’t spend enough time with their significant others and they were desperate to connect? I realized it was an untapped market so I created Hush and fed the need. The new location takes the concept a step further.”

  “It’s all a business decision, then. Not because you wanted to help people.” Disappointment crashes through me, and I try to push it away. Of course. It’s always a business decision. My brother thinks the same way. So does my father.

  I sorta hoped Archer was different. Clearly, he’s not.

  “I’m not looking to help anyone. I’m no one’s savior.” His gaze meets mine and he tips his head toward me. “You of all people should know that.”

  I most definitely know that. “I find it funny that the man who is the epitome of anti-commitment creates a safe haven for couples looking to spice up their sex life.” I shake my head. “You must see the irony.”

  “Oh, I do. Trust me.” He smiles and the sight of that dimple I adore momentarily takes me aback.

  “You should show Ivy some of the rooms,” Gage suggests as he approaches us, breaking the quiet spell that had settled over Archer and me. I step away from him, smiling faintly at my brother, though really I’m irritated. I should be glad he spoke up before I did something foolish. Like touch Archer. Give away that I might . . . feel something for him.

  I definitely feel nothing for him beyond a fondness for a man I’ve known for what feels like forever.

  Ha. And a yearning for his body.

  “I’d love to see the rooms,” I say, trying to push the confusing thoughts from my brain.

  “Yeah, Arch. Show her everything. Explain the concept behind the resort so she can get a better understanding.” Gage smirks.

  The look that crosses Archer’s face is nothing short of uncomfortable. “Do you want to see them, Ivy?” he asks stiffly, his gaze flicking to Gage before it returns to me.

  “Absolutely.” I’m surprised he asks. I wonder more at his discomfort. Is this entire scenario misleading? Is he hiding some sort of secret sex den in one of the buildings? Oh, good lord, I know Archer’s reputation precedes him, but he was pretty vanilla last night when we had sex. Nothing too outrageous.

  But he was certainly the tastiest vanilla I’ve ever experienced.

  We walk down a meandering gravel path, Archer leading us to a row of detached cottages that each individually house a room. They all have quaint front porches with a pair of large, comfortable-looking chairs on either side of the front entrance, and he approaches the largest one, me following right behind him and stopping while he opens the door.

  Inhaling as discreetly as possible, I breathe in his scent, closing my eyes for the briefest moment. He smells . . . amazing, fresh and clean and delicious. I sway toward him, afraid I might fall into him, and he turns just as I right myself, his brows furrowed as h
e studies me.

  “Ladies first.” He points toward the door and I follow the length of his arm, realizing a little too late that the door is open and he’s waiting for me to enter.

  I’d been so caught up in my obsessive sniffing, I didn’t realize he opened the damn door.

  My cheeks hot, I walk inside, glancing about the space, which I instantly love. It’s got a contemporary feel with dark wood floors, a giant fireplace dominating the room, and sleek furniture. I do a slow circle, taking everything in. I catch a glimpse of the giant bed within the bedroom, a deck off the back of the cottage with a beautiful view and—is that a . . .

  “Is that a tub?” I point toward it lamely, feeling like a little kid.

  “Yes, it is.” He sounds amused, and he starts toward the French door that leads onto the deck. I follow him, curious to check it out, and I glance over my shoulder, seeing that Gage isn’t following us.

  In fact, he isn’t in the room at all.

  Frowning, I turn back around to see Archer studying me carefully, his hand curled around the door handle. “Your brother took a phone call. He’s out front.”

  “Oh.” Swallowing hard, I nod once. Is that all I can seem to say when he makes those types of statements? The ones that worry me and make me realize that I can pretend I don’t want him but it’s all a lie.

  I still want him. More now that I’ve had him.

  “Well, let’s check out the view then,” I say, hoping he doesn’t notice my wavering voice.

  Being alone with Archer, even for a few minutes, is going to test my very patience.

  Archer

  IVY’S LOOKING AT me like she wants to eat me up with a spoon and fuck me, I’m returning the feeling a millionfold. But Gage is out front and who knows how long he’s going to take with his call.

  I can’t risk it.

  I want to risk it so bad my hands literally itch to touch her.

  Being near her flat out arouses me, there’s no denying it. Her scent, her smile, the way she looked at me when I explained Hush’s background. I saw the glimmer of sympathy in her eyes. She knows what an asshole my father is.

  The last thing I want from her is sympathy. I’m not a charity case.

  She walks out onto the private deck and I follow her, admiring the curve of her ass, the little gasp of pleasure she gives when she catches sight of the rolling hills covered with what looks like endless rows of vineyards.

  “So beautiful,” she murmurs, and I wholeheartedly agree. She’s gorgeous.

  “You like the view?” Because I sure as hell do. I take a step closer, noting how I tower over her. Her hair is mostly dry, the ends wavy, and I want to grab hold of her ponytail. Yank her head back and kiss her until the both of us are stupid with lust.

  “It’s stunning.” She glances over her shoulder at me, the smile on her face slowly fading. “You’re looking at me weird.”

  The sexy whisper of her voice doesn’t quite go along with what she’s saying. “How am I looking at you?”

  “Like . . . like you want something from me.” She turns to face me but backs up a few steps, until she’s leaning against the deck railing. Her hazel eyes are wide, her cheeks flushed. A few wisps of hair have escaped her ponytail, brushing against her face. I move toward her, slow and easy, not wanting to startle her. Not wanting to ruin this.

  “I want nothing from you that you don’t want to give,” I murmur, and I note the rapid beat of her pulse at the base of her throat.

  “Archer.” Her voice is a warning, with the slightest bit of waver. That waver gives me hope. “My brother is right out that front door. What if he finds us?”

  “We’re not doing anything that we need to hide.” I’m directly in front of her, crowding her, and I rest my hands on the railing on either side of her body, effectively trapping her.

  “Yet,” she whispers, and that one single word gives me so much damn hope, I do what I’ve been dying to do since I saw her in the hallway of my house.

  Dipping my head, I nuzzle her hair with my cheek, breathing in her scent, closing my eyes. My entire body tingles at having her close, hearing the catch of her breath, feeling the slight tremor that moves through her. She doesn’t touch me, doesn’t so much as move, and I settle my mouth close to her ear. “All I can think about is last night.”

  “Archer.” She sounds like I’m torturing her.

  Good. Feeling’s mutual.

  “Do you think about it? I swear to God, Ivy, all I want to do is drag you into that bedroom right now and fuck you until you can’t see straight.” My control is about to snap. And I never let it snap. But this woman pushes all my buttons, does everything she can to tear me apart with just a look. A smile. It blows my mind how much power she wields over me.

  She has no clue about her power either.

  “You shouldn’t talk to me like that. Last night was a . . . mistake.” She settles her hand on my chest as if she’s going to push me away, but her fingers curl ever so slightly into my shirt. Pulling me just a fraction closer to her.

  Triumph surges through me. She can’t resist this pull between us either. “You really think so?”

  “I know so.” She pushes at my chest so I have no choice but to look at her. She’s not strong enough to get me to step back, though. No way am I moving from her yet. “We can’t continue this.”

  “You want to.” It’s a statement, not a question.

  “No I don’t.” But she’s nodding as I lean into her, and when I brush my mouth with hers, the shuddering exhale she breathes against my lips twists up my insides. “Archer . . .”

  I love hearing her say my name, even if it’s in protest. Because really she’s not protesting. She wants this just as bad as I do.

  “Just one kiss,” I murmur against her lips, darting out my tongue to lick. The soft moan that escapes her is my answer, and I settle my mouth fully on hers, our tongues meeting, circling, tasting. I rest my hand on her hip, stepping into her, wanting to feel her.

  The breeze sweeps over us, a shiver moves through her, and I slip my arms completely around her waist, tugging her lower body close to mine. Fuck Gage. Fuck anything else. I want to pull her into that bedroom, slam the door and keep her in the bed pinned beneath me for the next twenty-four hours.

  It wouldn’t be enough. But when it comes to Ivy, I’ll take what I can get.

  A buzzing sound rings through my head as I continue to kiss her, lose myself in her. I slide my hands over her ass, groaning when she grinds subtly against me. The buzz gets louder, more insistent, and I break the kiss first, staring down at her, my breath coming in pants. “What is that?”

  She blinks up at me, looking as wrecked as I feel. “I think it’s your phone.”

  Shit. She’s right. I can feel it vibrating in my jeans pocket. Yanking it out, I see it’s a text message from Gage.

  I gotta get back home. Meet me at the car.

  “It’s your brother.” Damn it, I’m not ready to send her back to the city with Gage. I want to keep her here with me.

  Like she’d ever go for it. She has a life. A relatively new career, friends—she probably has little time to spare, especially for me.

  I’m delusional if I think I can make something between us work. Not that I want something real or lasting. A fling. That’s all I want. And then there’s the bet to consider.

  You’re really going to let a bet guide your decision?

  I ignore the shitty little voice in my head.

  “What did he say?” She licks her lips as if she’s trying to get one last taste of me, and my cock twitches as I reluctantly step away from her.

  “He’s ready to leave.”

  “That’s probably best.” She pushes away from the railing, glancing to her left, looking at the tub that sits outside near the deck. “You never did explain the reason for the tub being outside.”

  “It’s built for two. The decks are all private; none of the guests can see each other.” I smile, imagining the two of us in that tub,
our naked skin slick and soapy, Ivy sitting in my lap, her long legs wound around my waist. “It’s, uh, one of our most popular features.”

  “I’m sure.” The sarcasm is thick and I take another step away from her, surprised. “Archer, what happened between us last night . . .”

  “Was a mistake. I totally agree.” I finish for her, needing to be the first one who said it.

  Weird thing, though, is the look on her face when I did. Like I slapped her when she least expected it.

  “A mistake,” she says slowly as she nods. “That’s what you think?”

  “Absolutely. I mean, come on. We could never work. I don’t do relationships. You know this.” I sound far more confident than I feel. Maybe it’s because I always say this sort of thing to women, or really more to myself. I’ve never been in a relationship. I know I would fail at one. I would most definitely disappoint her. Ivy.

  But secretly? I wish she would give me—give us—a chance.

  “And I do.”

  “You most definitely do,” I agree a little too quickly.

  “And you’re yet another Humpty Dumpty.” She sighs.

  “What?” Okay, that made no damn sense. Why is she calling me Humpty Dumpty?

  “The kind of guy who’s all broken up and can’t be put back together again.” She smiles at me, but it’s sad and the sight of it makes me feel like a complete jerk. “I have a type. And I think you top my type list.”

  “I’m on your type list?” I never believed Ivy had any sort of crush on me. Not beyond the push-pull-we-hate-each-other-maybe-we-should-tear-each-other’s-clothes-off thing we’ve been suffering through for years. Though I always figured that was more one-sided on my part.

  “I never realized it until now. You’re so right. We could never work. I’m too nice. And you’re too . . . you.” She drops that bomb like it makes all the sense in the world.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I rub my palm against my chest, irritated with myself. I’m acting butt-hurt over a woman. This is crazy.