by Lisa Cardiff
“As a matter of fact, I do have a point to make.”
“And what’s that?” I responded, pinching the bridge of my nose.
“I think you should focus on Senator Wharton and leave Langley out of your plans.”
“Did you have a sudden attack of conscience? Why the hell would I do that?”
“Because you like her,” he said belatedly, his voice tentative.
An image of Langley swam before my over-tired eyes. “You’re wrong,” I snapped, even though both of us knew it was a blatant lie. I more than liked Langley, which explained why I’d spent the better part of the week avoiding her and two hours tracking her down tonight when it looked like she wanted to end things.
Every time Knox asked about Langley this week, I nearly ripped his head off. I didn’t want to talk about her. My feelings were messy and complicated. I needed her to get to Senator Wharton, but I also wanted her for reasons wholly unrelated to him.
To make matters worse, after meeting her last weekend, I felt ridiculously possessive and protective of her, which wasn’t a good sign, because destroying Senator Wharton would mean ripping her life apart. I wish things were different, that Senator Wharton wasn’t part of either of our lives, but no amount of wishing would alter reality.
She wouldn’t want anything to do with me when I exposed Senator Wharton and destroyed his political career, and the idea of Langley hating me left a sour taste in my mouth. Even though I knew it was for the best, my gut hollowed at the loss of something I could never have. If I were smart, I wouldn’t touch her or make love to her—something I wanted more with each passing second I spent with her.
“Am I?”
“Absolutely. She’s attractive. She’s an above average conversationalist, but she’s related to him.” And that was exactly why I needed to kill any emotional investment I had in Langley before it got out of hand.
“Fine.”
Grateful he didn’t press the issue, my shoulders relaxed. “Tell me about the surveillance.”
“Senator Wharton has someone keeping loose tabs on Langley, but he’s not actively watching you. In fact, you don’t even register on his radar.”
“What do you mean by loose?”
“Nothing intrusive. A car follows her to and from work. Tonight, the car followed her to the bar and then to the front of your building.” Knox’s experience and connections from his time in Naval Intelligence were invaluable.
I twirled the stem of my empty wine glass. “Is the car still outside my place right now?”
“I don’t know. I went to bed an hour ago. I can reach out to our surveillance team now, or I can wait to review the emailed report in the morning. Which would you prefer?”
“Tomorrow will work. Nothing’s going to happen tonight anyway.”
“Nope.” The silence echoed through the phone. “Which makes me wonder the real reason you woke me up in the middle of the night.”
“I know where you’re going with this, and I’ve had enough.”
“Where am I going?”
“You’re circling the conversation back to Langley,” I retorted.
“I think we should focus on Senator Wharton. We don’t need Langley. He has plenty of career-ending skeletons hidden in his closet. We’ll be able to uncover a big one in no time. I’ve been investigating his connections to the financier the FBI arrested last month. I think there’s something there.”
“I know there’s something there, but I don’t want Senator Wharton to be the next President of the United States by the time the pieces come together. If we can’t stop his election, every piece of evidence we uncover will be buried under miles of administrative tape, and he’ll have every governmental agency under the sun climbing up my ass the minute he’s sworn into office. The SEC, IRS, DEA, FBI—you name it. They’ll all be clamoring for a piece of Black Investments and me. It’d be a fucking mess.” I rubbed my temples as I contemplated the nightmarish implications of a Wharton presidency.
“So what do you want to do?”
“I want to explore every angle and I’ll make a final decision later. In the meantime, put a tail on Langley too. Maybe we’re missing something.” Indecision normally wasn’t a problem for me. When I started this whole thing, I wanted to ruin Senator Wharton and everyone in his life, which naturally included Langley. But that was before I met her, tasted her, caressed her golden skin, and craved her more than my next breath. Before I’d seen the mixed reaction, both sadness and hate, swirl in her emerald eyes at the mention of Senator Wharton’s name.
To make matters more complicated, she was sweet, nice even. Way too fucking good for me. Instead of spending the last four years living off her stepdad, waist-deep in the life of a socialite, she put her degree and training to work. She accepted an entry-level physical therapist position. Most people with millions of dollars banked in a trust fund wouldn’t live off a low-paying job when thirty years old was right around the corner.
She didn’t deserve my hatred, and she certainly didn’t deserve to be used. But was I actually using her? It sure as hell didn’t feel that way. If my inability to stop thinking about her was any indication, I wasn’t. I groaned inwardly. I needed to focus on the end goal, not my need for Langley.
“Got it,” Knox finally replied. “Call me tomorrow.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Langley
Nothing looked familiar. My eyes traveled around the room, trying to pinpoint my location. Dimmed sconces lit the linear angles of a white marble fireplace. A gray chenille blanket covered my legs. Shit. I must have fallen asleep at Archer’s house, and he was nowhere to be found. I guess he went to bed.
I lifted my phone off the metal coffee table. It was a little after one in the morning. I didn’t know if I should look for him, or leave and shoot him a text when I got home. Neither option appealed to me. Why the hell did I fall asleep?
I had folded the blanket, draped it over the arm of the sofa, and rearranged the pillows when I noticed a sliver of yellow light squeezing under the door on the far side of the room. Without over thinking my actions, I crossed the room and knocked on the closed door.
“You can come in,” Archer said.
I cracked the door and peeked inside. Archer sat in a gray leather chair behind a sable-stained desk. A gray and white Moroccan-inspired rug covered the hardwood floors.
“I’m sorry I fell asleep,” I said, taking a few hesitant steps into the room.
He leaned back in his chair. “No problem. I had some work to finish up.”
My gaze drifted to the white floor-to-ceiling bookshelves behind his oversized desk. “I’m just…” I caught my lips with my teeth, and then swallowed hard. What the hell was I doing? Since when did a man turn me into a tongue-tied fool? “I’m just gonna go.”
“Come here,” he said, beaconing me with a simple wave of his hand.
When I reached the corner of his desk, I balanced my hip against the sharp edge. “Yes?”
“Were you planning to leave without bothering to give me a goodnight kiss?”
“I didn’t think about it,” I murmured.
Less than a fragment of a second later, his hands circled my hips, and he tugged me into his lap. My face mere inches from his, I smelled his intoxicating spicy-citrus scent, and I saw the desire swirling in his dilated pupils. I wanted to kiss him. No, I wanted more than a kiss this time.
Clutching the top of his shoulders, I pressed my lips against his, taking what I wanted for once in my life without weighing all the implications of my actions. I’d spent the first twenty-four years of my life making decisions based on how they affected my family, but that hadn’t gotten me anything except a string of boyfriends, each one shittier than the previous one. This reckless and impulsive moment was about me, and I wanted Archer. My stepdad and his fucking campaign be damned.
His hands ran up and down my back, slowly shifting me closer and closer to him until we were chest-to-chest, pelvis-to-pelvis, and our lips met, melding
us together like two pieces of a puzzle. Our tongues tangled and curled around each other in a kiss that was more hello than goodbye.
Within seconds, my body was on fire, aching to take the next step. My skin stretched tight, anticipating his next move, and I didn’t have to wait long.
In one swoop, he stood up, wrapping my legs around his waist, and carried me down the hall. With every step, I kissed his throat, his cheek, his ear…anything within striking range of my Archer-starved lips.
“Will you stay?” he asked, sliding my body down the length of his until my bare feet touched the thick weave of the carpet.
“I want to stay, but I’m nervous,” I admitted. The reality of being with him, sleeping in his bed, and waking up next to him rushed through me. It would make our relationship real in the way a few kisses and dates never could.
He cocked his head to the side and traced the lines of my face. “Don’t be. I want you to stay, and I think you want to stay. We’re not doing anything wrong.”
I blew out a puff of air. “You’re right.” Standing on the tips of my toes, I kissed the side of his throat as my hands worked the buttons of his shirt.
“You first,” he mumbled, pushing my hands away. He tugged my shirt over my head and unhooked the back of my bra. With a feather-soft swipe of his fingers, he slid one strap down my arm, then the other, and my bra tumbled to the floor. His hands cupped my bare breasts and a simultaneous shiver and jolt of fire shot through my body.
I closed my eyes as my nipples pebbled under his caresses. Around and around, his fingers explored the contours of my breasts, plucking and rolling them between his finger and thumb until my breath came in short pants and my heart winged against my ribcage.
When his mouth closed over one nipple, my knees buckled and my nipples throbbed in time with my heartbeat. “Oh my God,” I whispered. “This is so unfair.”
Chuckling, he eased me onto the top of his bed. “How so?” He unzipped my skirt and slid it down my legs, the tips of his fingers igniting mini-shocks with every graze along my over-sensitized flesh.
My eyes popped open. “For starters, you could take off your shirt so I don’t feel so naked.”
“Soon,” he said. He dropped to his knees between my already parted legs and glanced up at me from under the thick fall of his dark forelock.
His hands stroked the inside of my thighs and then his mouth followed at a torturous pace. I fisted the duvet as his lips and fingers ambled higher and higher. By the time he reached the silken edge of my panties, I’d thought I might explode with one simple wisp of his warm breath.
And then he kissed me through my panties. I moaned, or maybe I screamed. I arched my hips against him. He ripped my panties down my legs, and within seconds he was licking and sucking me with expert precision. I was drunk on pleasure…drunk on him. I rocked my hips against him, selfishly seeking the release burning just out of my reach.
He slid two fingers inside of me, and it was too good, too perfect, too everything. Time crawled, almost freeze-framing, as every nerve-ending aligned and every muscle flexed. Then, I shattered, bowing my hips, pressing against him, channeling my pleasure into his mouth with every tantalizing vibration.
Archer pulled his shirt over his head and shoved his pants and boxer briefs down his legs. A beautifully naked body stood over me, and I wondered how many other women have been lucky enough to see him like this. A flat toned stomach, defined legs and arms, and a small trail of dark hair stretching from his navel to his impressive erection.
Oh my God, I inspected him as though I’d never seen a naked man before, which in some respects was true. I had never been intimate with a man who compared to him. Brandon ran almost daily, but his body was wiry, and not in the same league as Archer’s. An image of me snapping a picture of him like this so I could study every detail in the privacy of my home flickered through my mind. I bit my lip to stifle my laughter. What a silly thought.
“Like what you see?” he smiled, flashing a small dimple in his right cheek. I’d never noticed it before.
Spellbound, I nodded.
He opened the bedside table and pulled out a condom. Within seconds, he rolled it over his length and braced his body over mine. He rubbed his erection along my sex, and I went from satisfied to desperate in ten seconds flat.
“Please,” I muttered more to myself than him, but he complied. He pushed inside of me one taunting inch, but he held back. How could he be so disciplined when my control was within a hairsbreadth of snapping? I was the one who had an orgasm not less than five minutes ago, not him. I’d impale myself on him if he’d let me, but the look in his eyes told me he was the director of this journey, and I was only along for the ride.
“Not enough,” I moaned.
“Trust me. I’m just getting started.”
Then, he slammed all the way inside of me, hard, deep, and absolutely moan-worthy. His hands circled my hips, and he angled my hips, somehow managing to plant his cock even deeper than two seconds earlier. I hooked my legs around his waist, using my ankles to force him to move…and move he did.
I didn’t even have time to revel in the new angle before he started pumping in and out of me with wicked accuracy. His hands roamed freely, not leaving any part of my body untouched or neglected. Moonlight lit the sharp-angled planes of his face.
When his fingers teased my clit, I should’ve been embarrassed that I was ready to orgasm again, but my pleasure-filled synapses were firing too fast for the thought to take root. My hips moved restlessly against his, up, down, and circling without any finesse. My entire body throbbed in rhythm with my rapid-fire heartbeat.
Desperate sounds escaped my parted lips as sensations in my core built and built to tidal wave proportions. Then, his mouth crashed against mine, kissing me. Sinfully. Frantically. With absolute domination. All tongue and teeth, connecting us in every way possible until we were one body moving together. I couldn’t touch him enough. The hunger was too overwhelming.
Like a lightning bolt straight to my heart, ecstasy flooded my body surpassing anything I’d ever experienced. Then, a split second later he hit a place I never realized existed, and I exploded. Not even missing a beat, Archer swallowed my cries of bliss and continued to thrust inside of me, any ounce of restraint long since gone.
With the aftershocks of my climax still tingling in the tips of my fingers and my toes, he came with one hard thrust and a harsh groan. When I finally opened my eyes, Archer was still buried inside of me with his forehead resting against mine.
“I liked that version of a goodnight kiss. We’ll have to do that more often,” I said, my voice a delicate whisper.
He kissed me on the lips before rolling off of me. “I concur.”
My eyes already heavy with sleep, I turned my head to face his. “Do you still want me to stay?”
“I do.” His mouth curved in amusement as he gathered me into his arms, and there was that familiar dimple again.
Lazily, I traced his dimple. “My stepdad has one exactly like this,” I said more to myself than him. “Isn’t that strange?”
He flinched, and his hand curled into a ball against my back.
“Sorry.” I searched his dark, almost predatory eyes for a strained moment. “Poor choice of conversation,” I finally said.
“Not the best.” He blew out a breath and kissed my lips tenderly. “Let’s go to sleep.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Langley
Golden hued, mid-morning sun snuck through the cracks of the blinds when I opened my eyes. Not ready to face the day, I rolled to my side and wrapped the pinstriped pillow over my head. I needed to get up, but exhaustion from a long night in Archer’s arms made me too lazy to behave responsibly.
“Finally,” Archer said, the bed dipping next to my hip. “I didn’t peg you for a late sleeper.”
I groaned, not bothering to remove the pillow from my face. “Why are you awake?”
“It’s eleven thirty. I haven’t slept past e
ight thirty since I turned twenty-one.”
I popped up in the bed. Thank God I texted my mom yesterday to cancel our weekly tennis match. “Eleven thirty? What the hell? Why did you let me sleep for so long?”
“You looked comfortable, and I had to work.”
“Ugh.” I rubbed my eyes with my palms and then dropped my hands into my lap. Black streaks of mascara colored my skin. “I need a shower. I’m a mess.”
He kissed my forehead. “Not even close.”
“No need to lie. I’ll just wash my face and then I’ll be out of your way.”
“Shower here. I made a late breakfast.”
“You mean lunch?” I said, pointing at the alarm clock.
“Exactly. I owe you lunch, but I can’t go out because something came up.”
“Work stuff?” I stretched my arms over my head.
He looked over his shoulder. “A meeting.”
“Okay. I’ll clean up, and we can eat in about thirty minutes. Will that work?”
“Perfect. I hope you like waffles.”
“I love waffles.”
I watched him leave the room. Then, I scooped up my clothes and purse from the ivory leather chair in the corner and carried them into the bathroom. The bathroom was decorated in the same white and gray theme as the rest of the house. Carrara marble in several sizes covered the floors and walls of the bathroom. Three walls of glass enclosed a shower that could fit at least five people comfortably.
The minute I turned on the shower, my phone rang. Shit. I never called Winnie after we left the bar. She was probably going crazy with a combination of curiosity and worry.
“Hi,” I said without looking at the screen.
“Langley, it’s Brandon.”
My heart squeezed and I nearly dropped the phone. He was the last person I wanted to talk to right now, or ever for that matter. “Why the hell are you calling me?”
“I’m sorry about last week…at the bar. The way I acted wasn’t acceptable. You didn’t deserve that.”