She finished her routine, her eyes never once leaving his face and walked over to stand in front of him. After she leaned over and planted her palms on the backrest corners, she held his gaze for several seconds.
Archer lifted his face to hers.
“You hurt me. You lied to me. If we’re going to have something special, you and I, then it has to stop. I won’t take that kind of crap a second time. You hurt me again, you lie to me again and that’s it, we’re through for good.”
Archer nodded. His eyes spoke volumes, even if he never said a word.
He was sorry, they said. If he could, he’d do everything differently. He’d trust her. If only.
She nodded.
His chin quivered. He cleared his throat, looked into her eyes again. “Joan…”
“I know.”
Chapter Thirteen
She did know.
Joan had suspected and guessed and hoped. Now she knew. With certainty and a sense of liberation, of surfacing, she knew he loved her. He’d been telling the truth back at the club, had only lied at the hospital to protect himself, to force her to leave. Plus, what kind of woman would she be if she held against him what a man said coming out of surgery? She wasn’t one of those women who demanded every shred of heart and soul from a man. He loved her. Had told her. Had shown her. It was plenty good enough for her!
But no more lies. She’d told Archer the truth, she would not take the secrets and the lies.
Suddenly, with her bent over him this way, the mood changed from emotionally charged to unbelievingly erotic.
“I want you,” she said over the music.
His eyes did a quick down-and-up scan. He grinned a lopsided one. “If you’ll have me, I’m all yours.”
“I’ll have you. But no more secrets.”
“No more secrets.”
Using her arms to keep herself suspended over him, she kissed his cheeks, his eyebrows, brushed her lips over his for a quick, teasing taste. He tried to trap her mouth with his but she pulled away, grinning, then proceeded to kiss her way down his throat, circumvented his wounded chest and instead concentrated on his other side, which she licked. He tasted so good. Smelled so good. She’d missed him so much.
By her elbow, his cotton pajama bottoms tented enticingly. She’d get to it soon.
After she rolled her eyes up to his face, Joan crouched in front of him so she could pull at the drawstring of his pants. His breathing accelerated. He tucked his bottom lip behind a silent snarl. The music still played. But she no longer needed it to get in the mood.
In a fist, she grabbed Archer’s cock through the cotton, rubbed her thumb over the apex, touched the wet spot there then licked the pad of her finger. He closed his eyes, swallowed hard.
Archer’s mouth opened when she pulled the front of his crotch down over his cock while she fished it out with her other hand. So smooth and hot. Into her mouth it went. No preamble. No kissing and licking. Just down her throat as if he’d been built just for that purpose. Built for her.
She mm-ed loudly, cocked her head left and right to screw herself down around his thick shaft. So good. But he pushed against her forehead hard enough to dislodge her.
“Not here, Joan,” he said through his teeth. “In my room. In my bed.”
Joan had no idea how they made it there, only that they somehow managed to open and close the appropriate doors, lock those that still had functioning locks, stumbled down the corridor and up the thick wooden stairs. He flicked on a switch and golden light spilled onto the landing. When she finally saw it, his large but cozy bedroom reminded her of a summer cottage. All plaid duvet, warm wood and Canadiana décor. With a grimace, he sat gingerly on the edge of the bed.
“Give me a quick break, okay? The stairs were a bitch.”
“I’ll do better than that.”
Despite his protest—men—Joan lifted his legs and rolled him onto the hip-height bed so he lay supine, sunken in the thick duvet. His penis stuck out over his waistband.
Periscope up!
“You’re not allowed to move from that position, is that clear?” Joan demanded. If the fists on hips didn’t convince him, nothing would. She quickly removed her costume.
He smiled tightly. “You’re giving me orders again, Constable Blair?”
“Damn right. Now where was I?” She tapped her index finger on her chin. “Oh yeah. I remember.”
He gasped when she knelt over him, but didn’t settle down around his waist in case she hurt him, and pulled his cock completely out of the pants and into her mouth. Pumping up and down, up and down, she brought him close—thighs twitching was always a good sign—then released his penis so she could stroke his legs. The pants came down easily. Naked on his plaid duvet, with the landing light filtering in for a soft glow, he couldn’t have been more handsome and masculine.
“Come over here,” he said with a curl to his index finger. “Come sit right here.” He pointed to the tip of his tongue, which he’d stuck out, curled upward and so damn tempting.
After she’d trapped it into her mouth and sucked at his tongue a while, Joan scooted forward and grabbed the headboard so she could straddle his face while making sure her knees didn’t come anywhere near his chest.
He’d saved her life. That knife-wielding maniac would’ve hurt her bad. Probably worse.
Dear Archer. How she’d come to value him. Love him.
“Come on,” he mumbled from between her thighs. “Don’t make me exert myself in my condition, you know.”
He laughed when she slapped the top of his head.
She hadn’t fully lowered herself over his mouth that he was pushing up against her pussy, eating her urgently and deeply. She gasped when fingers right away pulled her cheeks wide for a more profound claiming. The headboard creaked when she yanked against it.
Oh. Yes. Ohhh.
Rolling her hips, she followed Archer’s tongue as he pushed it in and out then licked front to back while his fingers dug increasingly deeper in her flesh, flesh that throbbed at the thought of the man’s cock sinking in, so smooth and hot and made for her.
“Mmm,” he said between greedy pulls. “Mmm. That’s it, give it to me, right here. Push against my mouth. Push.”
Joan sat down a bit lower. That mouth!
“That’s good,” she murmured, leaning against the headboard. “That’s good. So good.”
“Then show it. I want to hear.”
While he claimed her pussy with his mouth, Archer’s hands kept busy anchoring her to his face, enough so that she could barely roll her pelvis anymore for the force with which he was holding on to her. As if he meant to never let go.
“I love you so much,” she whispered, half hoping he wouldn’t hear. Half hoping he would.
“I do too, Joan.”
Unable and unwilling to wait any longer, Joan hurriedly scooted back down around his waist and lifted herself up on her knees. Her pussy throbbed and was so slick, his thick member sank in almost of its own volition. She gasped when Archer bucked his hips once at the last moment.
“I said not to move!”
“Sorry, couldn’t help it.”
“Now I’ll have to punish you.”
He grinned wide. “Pink fuzzy handcuffs?”
“Next time. All I have on me is this.” She pulled out to the glans then stabbed back down.
The grin left his face. His mouth twisted in a decadent, lascivious snarl. “Oh baby, you can punish me all you want. I’ve been very, very bad.”
She did it again. Then again. Until she was bumping her hips hard enough to make their skin clack together. She must have been hurting his chest but he didn’t seem to notice or mind as he kept her butt cheeks out wide with his large, hot hands, fingers splayed and curled into her flesh.
“Do it again.”
As though she needed his urging!
Rhythmic creaks from the bed accompanied their cries as both their voices filled the room. A climax ripped through her, unannounce
d and one that left her shaking and biting her bottom lip hard enough to taste blood. Suddenly, a sharp buck from underneath lifted her a good few inches off the mattress. Despite his diminished state, Archer could still manage to lift her off without apparent effort. He rode her hard and fast until she felt the tiny pulsations at the base of his cock. He slowed, deepened his penetration then stopped altogether. So quiet they were she could feel his burning seed filling her, his loving hands roving lightly over her skin. She bent down and placed a soft kiss on his chin.
Archer winked. “Is it incredibly bad form if I fall asleep?”
Joan laughed. “Not if I can too.”
He reached over his head and produced a box of baby wipes hidden behind the headboard.
“Baby wipes?”
Archer rolled his eyes. “Moist towelettes.”
“Baby wipes. To wipe baby butts. You man.”
“Okay, okay, grammar queen.”
She tweaked his nipple. “You do this often, eh? You knew exactly where that box was.”
“Not with another woman. No. But I enjoy sleeping in on Sundays and, well, you know how it gets.” A black eyebrow bounced mockingly.
“You’re just impossible.” She rolled off him, wiped herself of his semen then held the box while he had his turn at the moist towelettes. When he threw his wad down by the bed, she did the same. Not a neat freak then. Good, because with her ability to knock things over in two different rooms at once, she didn’t want to have to constantly apologize for occupying space.
“I don’t know if you had plans for tonight, but you’re sleeping here.” He patted the mattress by his side.
After pulling the covers and sheets down, they slipped underneath and cuddled. This was so nice. She sighed contentedly.
“You know,” he said, stroking hair back from her face so he could look at her. “I’ve never done this.”
“What?” She was sleepy. But pillow talk with Archer would probably be much more exciting. She’d sleep later. Plus, she had questions lined up from here to tomorrow. He had no idea how tenacious she could be when she set her mind to it.
“Cuddle this way after mind-blowing sex.”
“Mind-blowing, eh? Ever the humble man.”
“What? It wasn’t for you?” he retorted. Sobering, he sighed. “Looking at you blows my mind. Your name blows my mind. How’s that for sharing my feeeelings? Not bad for a guy.”
“Yeah, I just wish you would’ve shared a bit earlier, you know?”
She felt him tense. “I know.”
“Okay, I have to know this. That escort thing, how does it work?”
“Did work. I quit. Actually, I went with you at the club against my boss’s instructions. That guy is seriously connected.”
“Mob?”
Archer snorted, winced. “Ow. No, he looks too expensive to be with the mob. I think he’s a rich guy who lost someone dear to him, his wife maybe, a woman I’m sure, anyway. One thing for certain, he has access to designer shoes. I saw him at the hospital. I wasn’t sure it was him until Mel got a text message on her cell…and he said I looked good in Cavalli. I had a Cavalli shirt that day at the hospital, Joan. It was creepy. Anyway, yeah, I quit. I’ll tell you all about it, if you want.”
“I do.” Knowing he’d quit was a weight off her shoulders, even if the idea of him escorting women to social events didn’t raise her territorial alarms. She wasn’t a jealous lover, but still…
“And the money I made—”
Joan raised her hand and put her palm against his luscious mouth. He kissed it. “Look, your financial affairs are your own. I’m with the Morality squad, not the federal government. And in all honesty, the less I know about that, the better I’ll be able to deny it later.”
He smiled behind her hand. A mocking smile.
“Yes?”
“Women are complicated. You said ‘no more secrets’.”
“Yeah, but that didn’t mean I need to have access to your bank account. Just don’t do anything illegal with it.”
“If I give it to an orphanage, would it count?” His voice came out muffled. His breath warmed her hand.
“I don’t think that’s how it works.”
“A political party?”
Joan chuckled. “You’d probably have more chances to get rid of it that way.” She yawned. “Anyway, it’s not as if you can do anything about it now. Not tonight anyway. Hey, you never told me what the B stands for. George B. Archer.”
“If you laugh, just you wait ‘til I heal.”
“Nah, I won’t laugh. Tell me.”
“The B is for Berthold. George Berthold Archer.”
Berthold.
She tried. She really did. But her belly gave her away. Then a whole-body laugh shook her. No amount of biting her cheeks and slapping both hands over her mouth suppressed it. Hiccupping “Sorry, sorry, sorry”, Joan had to roll onto her belly and cram her face into a pillow to at least stop the sound. She was being so insensitive. Poor guy!
A loud and stinging smack landed on her ass.
“OW!”
She arched back like a broken bowline!
Joan just had time to catch Archer, propped up on an elbow, licking his hand from palm to fingertips before slapping her butt again. Hard. It hurt!
Wincing and pressing his hand to his bandaged chest, he lay back down, blew on his hand. “Just you wait until I feel better.”
She kissed his shoulder. “I’ll let you put the pink fuzzy cuffs on me, okay? Am I forgiven?”
He humphed noncommittally. Yet judging by the smirk rising to his lips, Joan knew she hadn’t goofed too badly.
Archer sighed, grimaced. “I acted like a twit.”
“Yeah, you certainly did. But it’s okay—”
“No,” he interrupted then planted his icy blue gaze on her. “It’s not, and if you want to punch me, that’s fine. But not in the belly or the balls, okay? I’ve already given to that charity.”
Joan rolled her eyes. “Why would I want to punch you?”
“That’s what women do to men when they acted like asses and hurt them.”
“It would’ve been different if you’d run around and cheated on me with other women, you know, while you’d pretend we had something when we didn’t. That’d be different. I wouldn’t take that. I think it was more a false start then a real betrayal. You didn’t goof too bad. And you didn’t do it on purpose, right, I don’t think?”
“No, of course not.”
“No punching then. For now.”
After clearing his throat, Archer leaned forward, trapped her in his intense gaze. “I’m sorry, Joan.”
“I know.”
“I don’t think you do,” he countered, scooting forward. “I’ve always been an opportunistic prick and an ass, but never to those…those I love. And I do love you. A lot.”
Do. Not. Cry.
Joan took a deep breath. “You have an odd way of showing it. Lying to me. For what anyway? What did you think I’d say? It’s your life.”
He shook his head. “I never said I’m a smart man. I may look all, you know,” he made a face as if he were posing for a photo shoot. “But I’m really a socially awkward boy inside.”
Joan snorted a laugh. “Yeah, right.”
Archer grinned. Then he did it. That thing with his mouth. Oh, Bad Boy Archer was back in full force, was he? Heat wafted out of the sheet she’d tucked under her armpits.
“You should’ve trusted me enough to tell me about Gentlemen Inc.”
He cringed at the name. “It doesn’t sound the same when you say it. Not as suave. But yeah, I should have. I just didn’t want to take the chance you’d look at me differently, that I’d lose you because of it. Ha, but then I almost lost you anyway, didn’t I?”
“You didn’t lose me,” she said. After a second of hesitancy, she put her hand over his and squeezed. “I’m not that easy to ditch. But you did hurt me, not by something you did, but by omission. Sometimes, it hurts just as bad when
someone doesn’t do something they ought to have done.”
“So back to the me acting like an ass part. And the sorry part too. The ‘very sorry’ part of my story should be what sticks out, if you’d have to come up with a headline. Something like Lying Jerk Gets his Butt Kicked by Hot Lady Cop.”
Laughing, she squeezed his hand harder, suddenly feeling like wrapping herself in him, a protective, sarcasm-lined, fashion-conscious, gorgeous with a capital G man-blanket. “You know, for a guy, it’s true, you’re not bad at sharing your feelings.”
Archer grinned, bounced an eyebrow twice. “You should see me making it up to a woman.”
“Why don’t you—”
He did.
Archer drowned the rest of her sentence with one hell of a tender kiss, which began slow and measured, lips mostly, then deepened, became more intense, desperate almost, with tongue and teeth and deep-throated moans.
Joan pulled away, panting. “You hurt me again, I’ll let Chantal have at you.”
A wide grin pulled his glistening lips. “A threesome? Yay!”
Epilogue
Adriano leaned back from the laptop screen, rubbed his eyes then let out a chuckle. He’d have to find another agent for that region since Archer wouldn’t come back to Gentlemen Inc. Satisfaction swelled him with an urge to go out and have a nice strong caffè corretto at some sunny terrace. How he missed his native Tuscany. But his present location suited his business much better. It afforded him the logistical network he needed. And the secrecy as well.
He stood so he could stretch his legs but was drawn right away to the window, where ever-crowded Piazza Navona, with its richly colored tents for the weekly market stretched several corners down from his window overlooking a narrow, pedestrian street.
Thinking of Archer reminded Adriano how close he’d come to getting caught on video or whatever the petite woman had brandished in her hand. He’d had to “step on it”, as they said in North America, to make a hasty retreat undetected and un-photographed. Clever little thing! And pretty too, with a fresh, youthful face where freckles crowded over her perfect nose. Even if she’d failed at taking a picture of him, Adriano realized he’d have to be careful not to give the computer hacker—Archer probably didn’t even know what his friend did in her “spare time”—a hold in his hide. It was enough that she’d noticed him in the hospital corridor. Truth be told, he’d noticed her too. She was even prettier in person. And smarts shone in her large dark eyes. He loved smart women. Women in general. And nothing, nothing riled him more than seeing one suffer.
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