Crave

by Monica Murphy

  “Come for me, baby,” he whispers against my lips just before he kisses me. “Reach for it.”

  A ragged little cry escapes me and I close my eyes, moaning when I feel his lips on the side of my neck. He drags his hot tongue over my skin as I grind against his palm and I’m close. So, so close, I’m almost afraid it’s not going to happen.

  “I can feel you. Hot and clenching so tight around my finger. You want more, don’t you Ivy?”

  His hot words send me straight into oblivion. My body is racked with tremors as my orgasm pulses through me, taking me completely over the edge until all I can do is ride the wave. I grip his shoulders for fear I might collapse as he continues to stroke me, his fingers feather light and so gentle I almost want to weep at how amazing his touch feels.

  God. He makes me fall apart with a few hot kisses and delicious touches like some sort of sexual miracle.

  As I slowly come back down to earth, I realize he’s still touching me, licking my collarbone, pressing up against me. I can feel his erection brush against my stomach, still covered by his boxer briefs, and I reach for him. Brush my fingers down the light trail of dark hair that lines a path from his navel downward. Sliding my hands beneath the waistband of his underwear, I touch bare, hard skin, my fingers curling around his length.

  “Jesus, Ivy,” he chokes out.

  Smiling, I slide my back down the wall until I’m level with his cock. Slowly I tug his underwear down, revealing him to my gaze, and his erection springs out toward me almost eagerly.

  I feel just as eager. Exhilarated. Reaching for him, I curl my fingers around the base of him and lean in, dropping a kiss on the tip. His agonized groan fuels me and I lick him, wrap my lips around just the head as I suck and work him deeper.

  “Not like this,” he gasps, tugging on me so hard I have no choice but to stand and face him again, my feet wobbly since I’m still wearing the damn heels. I’m about to kick them off when he rests his hand on my cheek, making me look up at him. “Keep the shoes on.”

  Archer

  THIS IS MY every fantasy come to life. Ivy in my arms, spent from the orgasm I just gave her. Ivy kneeling in front of me, drawing me into her mouth, her enthusiastic tongue whipping me into such a frenzy I knew I wouldn’t last long.

  No way was I going to come too fast again. This time around, I want to make it last as long as possible. So I yank her to her feet and push impatiently at her tiny panties, wanting them off. Then I’m unsnapping her bra, watching her toss it to the floor before I’m on her again, nestled close, our mouths locked, our tongues dancing, my hands wandering.

  We’re both naked save for her heels and I pick her up, her legs automatically going around my waist, her pointy heels poking into my ass but I ignore the sharp pain. I press my cock against her, dying to plunge inside her.

  Fuck. I need a condom first.

  “I’m on the pill,” she whispers as if she can read my mind, and I lean back to study her. Her lips are puffy from our frantic kisses and her hair is in wild disarray about her head. Red marks dot her neck from my mouth and her chest is flushed; her nipples so hard I’m tempted to suck one into my mouth right now and pull and tug with my lips until she’s whimpering from the pleasure.

  “Yeah, uh . . . despite what you’ve heard, I’m clean. I swear.” I swallow hard, overwhelmed with the idea of taking Ivy with no barriers. Just skin on skin. All that wet, silky heat sucking me deep . . .

  “I want you, Archer.” She tightens her legs around my hips and I can feel her. Hot. Slick. Tempting me like no one else ever has. “I trust you.”

  Her simple statement threatens to unravel me.

  Reaching between us, I guide myself in, teasing her with the head of my cock before I finally sink into her depths. She throws her head back against the wall with a loud groan when I fill her completely and then we’re moving. Grinding. We’re in absolute perfect sync as she slowly rides the length of my cock.

  Closing my eyes, I press my forehead to hers, breathing hard, trying to keep my shit together. She feels fucking amazing, surrounding me, all over me until she’s the only thing I can see, hear, smell, taste. I turn my head and bite along her neck, soothing the nips with little flicks of my tongue, and she releases a shuddering sigh, my name falling from her lips.

  That little sigh spurs me on, and I increase my pace. Her arms and legs clutch me close and I nuzzle her damp hair, breathe in her heady scent. I’ve never felt closer to a woman than I do at this very moment with Ivy. She’s all I want. All I’ll ever want.

  The realization is so staggering I fumble for a moment, my hands gripping her ass tight. I pause, trying to keep my control, desperate to make this good for her, but she’s circling her hips and sending me deeper. So much deeper I’m afraid I’ll never find my way out of her.

  “Harder, Archer,” she breathes against my ear, making me shiver. “I want to come with you inside me.”

  Ah hell, she’s as good of a tease as I am. Increasing my pace once more, I fuck her hard against that wall, her body thumping loud with my every thrust, our sweaty skin clinging to each other, my hand tangled in her hair as I grip the back of her neck and bring her in for a kiss. Our lips meet, our tongues stroke, and then I’m groaning against her, coming so fucking hard I swear I see stars.

  She’s coming too. I can feel her clench all around me, milking my orgasm further until I’m absolutely spent. We stand together for long, quiet moments, the only sounds our stuttering breaths, our frantic heartbeats. I’m not ready to let go of her yet, not ready to slip out of her hot depths and I stay there. Wrapped tight in her embrace, never ever wanting to move again.

  “I . . . uh. Wow,” she murmurs minutes later, and I chuckle as I lift my head away from her to meet her gaze. “That was . . . I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

  “Really?” I kiss her, not insulted in the least. I don’t doubt for a second she didn’t mean for that to happen. I really didn’t either.

  But when she’s sitting there talking about her lack of orgasms, it was like she threw down a challenge. I had to prove to her that she was wrong.

  Did I ever.

  “I just . . .” She laughs and shakes her head. “You make it hard for me to form words, after all that.”

  “Mmm.” I kiss her again, her swollen lips parting for me easily as I search her mouth with my tongue. “We’re amazing together.”

  “We are, aren’t we?”

  “I’m going to enjoy showing you just how amazing again and again over these next two weeks.” I say it like a promise. A vow. Because it is.

  She presses against my chest with her hands so I move away from her, but I still don’t let her go. “That sounds promising.”

  I meet her gaze, schooling my expression, needing her to know the truth. “I was an idiot for pretending what happened between us didn’t exist. And I’m sorry about that.” Leaning in, I drop a soft kiss on her swollen lips. “I’m sorry I let you down. I can’t wait to start working with you. I trust your instincts. I believe in your skills. And I can’t wait for us to work together on this project and make my resort the best fucking thing the entire industry has ever seen.”

  A slow, sexy smile curves her lips and she kisses me again. “I love it when you talk like that.”

  “What, like an arrogant asshole?”

  “Yes.” Her lips linger on mine. “I find your arrogance . . . arousing.”

  “Really?” I’m doubtful, but I’ll go with it.

  “Yes. Really.” She licks my cheek and I flinch. What the hell was that for? “Take me to bed, Archer. Show me what else those magic hands and fingers can do.”

  “Wait until you see what my magic tongue can do for you.” I get hard just thinking about it.

  “I can’t wait to see.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  * * *

  Ivy

  ELEVEN DAYS. I’VE been in Calistoga with Archer for eleven days and I can’t believe how wonderful it’s been. Busy and tiring and
exhausting but also . . . freaking amazing.

  I don’t ever want to come down off this high.

  We’ve been working nonstop on Crave. It’s small and quaint and gorgeous and sophisticated all at once. I’ve poured over endless fabric swatches, paint colors for the interiors, and searched through enough furniture catalogs and websites to make my eyes cross until I finally came up with the perfect color scheme for all eight of the suites, plus the lobby and spa accommodations.

  All with Archer’s approval, of course, and he’s loved everything I’ve come up with. Considering we have similar taste, it’s been a relatively easy road. For all our arguing and fighting from the past, it’s hard for me to believe just how easily and well we work together. He’s brilliant and smart and comes up with the best ideas. I constantly compliment him as if I can’t help myself.

  And then he thanks me by kissing me stupid, stripping me naked and having his way with me. Again and again and again.

  Every night that we’re together it’s like this. We come together in a frenzy of heated breaths, delicious kisses, soft sighs, and wandering hands over naked skin. During the day we’re on our best behavior, working hard, going over plans, all sorts of plans, or returning to Hush where Archer has to take care of his day-to-day responsibilities, which are tedious and sometimes irritating, but he always handles them with ease.

  He’s so good at his job, it’s a joy to watch him in action. I admire the easy way he has with people. How efficiently he handles a guest complaint, an employee complaint, a call from some reporter inquiring about the Calistoga location. It’s nonstop, everything he has to do.

  As each day passes, my admiration for him grows. I care for Archer far more than I want to admit. I think he cares for me too. Spending so much one-on-one time with this gorgeous, frustrating, adorable, volatile, sweet, stubborn man, I can’t get over how much I didn’t know about him until now.

  His drive. His passion. His intelligence. He so believes in what he’s doing, the service he provides for people, he will do everything he can to ensure that he offers his guests the absolute best service their money can buy. And he’s pulling out all the stops for the new resort. It’s costing him a fortune. He’ll charge his guests a fortune too. But I have a sneaking suspicion they’ll love it and come back for more.

  And he’ll become an absolute success all over again.

  Running my fingers through my hair, I scratch the back of my head, squinting at my laptop’s screen. I’ve been searching for the lobby rugs and I can’t find them. I have a visual in my head, but so far nothing comes close to my imagination. I’m afraid I’m going to have to settle.

  I know if I told Archer that, he would flip. Demand I continue my search until I find rugs I absolutely love. He’s definitely not about settling, even for rugs.

  Hunched over my laptop, I curl my leg beneath me on the chair and sigh, scrolling through yet another textiles website, looking through a ton of ugly rugs that are all wrong, no matter how much I try to make them right. My vision is blurry and my neck aches. It’s past seven, I’m so ready to call it quits but I’m trying to wait for Archer to return.

  Silly, yes, but I can’t help myself. I want to see him.

  When we’re not in Calistoga, we’re headquartered in Archer’s office at Hush. That’s where I’m at now, waiting for him while he handles some sort of urgent issue. There are always urgent issues for Archer to handle. He does everything at Hush. The man has so much on his plate it overwhelms me, and I’m not the one who has to take care of it all; I’m only an observer. Most of the time he’s putting out various fires, which must get super old.

  But I guess this is what comes with being the owner.

  Stretching my arms above my head I grimace when I hear and feel my neck pop, then settle back into position. I curl my fingers around the mouse when big, warm hands settle on my shoulders, making me yelp in surprise.

  “So tense,” Archer murmurs, his deep voice sounding directly in my ear.

  “You scared the crap out of me.” I sink my teeth into my lower lip when he starts to rub to keep a moan from escaping. Oh my God, that feels so good. I think I might melt into a pool of nothing if he keeps it up.

  “Sorry. You were too busy scowling at your laptop.” He continues to massage my shoulders and I close my eyes, savoring his touch. How good he makes me feel. “Find what you want?”

  If we’re talking about you, yes I sure did. “Not really,” I admit with a sigh.

  He’s standing directly behind my chair, rubbing my shoulders, his fingers digging into my flesh. My entire body warms and loosens at having his hands on me and I want to turn around, grab him, and tell him let’s go back home.

  Scary, how I’m starting to think of his house as home. I’m certainly not spending my nights in the guest room, that’s for sure. Or at Hush like we’d originally planned. No, I get to spend them in his amazing, humongous bed in his equally amazing, humongous master bedroom.

  The man certainly knows how to live with every luxury available. My parents may be wealthy, but they’re downright modest compared to Archer.

  “You should schedule a massage,” he murmurs, dropping a kiss on top of my head.

  My insides warm at the sweet gesture. I’m dying to have that mouth of his on mine. “Why would I need to when I have you?” Opening my eyes, I heave a big sigh. Yes. Yes, I’ve lost it. All over Archer.

  All for Archer.

  “True.” He sounds amused, his voice warm, his touch gentle as he squeezes my shoulders. “I’ll give you a more thorough massage when we get home.”

  “I like the sound of that.”

  “It’ll involve special oils from the spa and you completely naked.” His voice drops to a husky whisper, sending shivers down my spine, and I smile at my laptop screen.

  “Sounds absolutely amazing.”

  “It will be, I can promise you that.” He crouches beside me, his face level with mine, and I cut my gaze to his, marveling at his handsome features. His dark brown hair falls across his forehead, making me want to reach across and push it away. So I do, my fingers sifting through the silky soft strands. “Still looking for rugs for the lobby, huh?”

  “It’s been a rather . . . frustrating process.” I click out of the website I was perusing and turn more fully to face him.

  “I know someone who designs rugs. Has a studio where they’re hand woven.” He smiles. “Every one of them is like a work of art.”

  “I’m sure they are. Very expensive works of art,” I stress. We’re completely over budget but he flat out doesn’t care. He spares no expense. It sort of drives me crazy.

  And makes me admire him even more.

  He shakes his head. “I’ve never seen a person so obsessed with rugs before.”

  “That’s because I have an idea in my head I can’t shake.” I tap my forehead. “And it sucks because I’m forever disappointed in every stupid rug I see.”

  “That does it. I’m calling her right now and we’ll make an appointment to see her tomorrow. She can create whatever you want, she’s that good.” He whips out his phone and starts scrolling through his contacts. “Actually, I’ll text her, see if she’s available in the morning.”

  “Archer, we only have a few days until we’re open. No way can she get them done in time.” I shake my head, shocked he would go to such lengths to please me.

  “Then we’ll throw some solid color rugs out for a few days to cover while I insist she rush the process. Trust me, they’ll work on the rugs twenty-four-seven if I pay her right.”

  “They’re not worth that much . . .” I start, but he silences me with a look that I find so incredibly sweet and sexy I feel my heart crack a little more every time I see it.

  Like right now. It’s cracking wide open, all for Archer.

  “If it makes you happy, it’s worth it. You’ve already sketched out what you wanted for me, remember?”

  I nod, a little embarrassed that we’re having this discussion over
freaking rugs. “That you’re willing to go to such lengths over something you don’t know what it’s going to look like says a lot.”

  “Like I’m crazy?” His smile grows, that dimple of his flashing and I lean in, giving it a kiss.

  “I’m the crazy one.” Crazy for you . . .

  Just thinking that freaks me out a little.

  “Yeah, you are, baby,” he drawls. I love it when he calls me baby. My stomach flutters as he leans in closer, and I can make out every speck of stubble on his cheeks, see the tiredness in his dark brown eyes. He looks as exhausted as I feel and I have the sudden urge to comfort him.

  “You’re definitely crazy though,” I say, entranced with the gold flecks in his brown eyes, the way they look at me full of so much emotion. Emotion I can’t quite figure out but I don’t want to. It’s a little scary to contemplate, and I’m not ready to face it yet. “You’re drastically over budget.”

  “You’re the one who put the budget on me. The sky’s the limit for this place. I already told you that.” He kisses me, his lips lingering, and just like that I want him.

  He makes me want to lose all control . . . and gladly.

  Pulling back, I roll my eyes. The budget I tried to get him to agree to has flown right out the window. No wonder he drives his father crazy. Don Bancroft plans and plots to the finest detail. He has a list and a chart and a spreadsheet for every little thing. He doesn’t go a penny over budget unless he’s absolutely forced to, at least according to the stories my brother told me. And when he does go over budget, he’s grumbling and griping the entire time.

  Whereas Archer tends to fly by the seat of his pants and hope like hell it all comes together. It worked for him before with Hush. I know it’s going to work this time around too with Crave. I can feel it. His love and excitement for this opening far outshines anything else.

  Well, his excitement for me is pretty shiny too. Love? Yeah, I doubt that, but I’m going to revel in what we share while we have it. Because it’s fleeting, I know this.