Made to be His (The Archer Family #1)

by Allison Gatta

  She'd imagined this a hundred times in college and even more since then. Probably every time his name had so much as entered her mind, but nothing compared to the actual feel of him. The kiss was less harsh than it had been before. It was all tenderness and no hesitation, and she gave into it without thinking.

  His tongue parted her lips and she gave over to his kiss, sweeping her tongue along his until they tangled with each other.

  The electricity of his touch surged through her body, and she could feel herself responding, growing wetter by the second. No matter how deep the kiss became, she wanted more. Had to know what it was to taste him, to touch him, to feel every hard muscle of his body. She'd waited too long for this to leave anything to the imagination.

  She nibbled at his bottom lip for a long moment, then released him from the kiss and stood, reaching for the hem of her dress.

  "You're sure nobody is going to come in here?" she asked, pulling at the skirt, but not lifting it away completely.

  "Positive. They have little charity events here all the time. Nobody will think twice about the lights" It was an effort not to smile at his swollen, red lips. She'd done that. And it was only just the beginning.

  "Let me help," he said, getting to his feet and crossing the space between them.

  Before she had time to respond, his arms came around her back and he was unzipping her, the rough pad of his thumb tracing her spine as the dress gave way. Goose bumps rose on her skin, the thrill quickly reached a fever pitch as blood thrummed in her ears.

  And when he'd finally unzipped the thing completely and pulled it away? All the last of her inhibitions went with it.

  He sucked in a breath and stepped back. "Wow."

  Or so she thought. Her chest tightened at his appraising gaze, and she held her breath before asking, "What?"

  "Turn around in a circle."

  Her eyebrows furrowed, but she did as he asked, spinning where she stood.

  "Slower." he said.

  She slowed her steps.

  "You have the most incredible body I've ever seen," he said.

  The thrill of his words shot straight between her thighs and she sighed with appreciation.

  "Take off your bra," he said.

  "Suddenly you're giving the orders?" She offered him a half smile, hands on her hips. "You're still completely clothed."

  He didn't respond to her. Instead, he repeated himself. "Take off your bra."

  The words were huskier now, but there was no disobeying him. She unclasped the hook in one smooth motion and exposed her breasts to the cool, evening air.

  "Now your panties," he said.

  She didn't dare to question him again. Slowly, she pulled the hem of her panties down until they were at her ankles and stepped from them, one leg at a time.

  "Now you?" she asked.

  With a smile, he shook his head. "Lay down."

  The huskiness was rougher now, coated with the edge that she'd thought only existed in women's fantasies.

  There was no hesitation, now, though. Only the sole desire to please, and she lay on the grass just outside the pitcher's mound. Her back arched against the cold lawn, but the shock of the chill was quickly overshadowed by the warm feel of huge, masculine palms on her knees, spreading them apart until she was completely exposed to him.

  For another torturous minute, he said nothing. He only stared at her, his gaze moving from her hard nipples to her core. When she was sure she couldn't stand the anticipation anymore, he finally said, "I was right. You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

  God, this man was a study in extremes. It was like he was testing her, pushing her to the edge of pleasure, moving her farther, pushing her limits until he found the point where she was sure to explode.

  And when his lips met her center, she was sure he'd found the tipping point.

  His tongue lapped her slowly, carefully, and he groaned low in his throat, like she was the most delicious thing to have ever crossed his lips.

  "Oh, God." Her breath caught and he flicked his tongue over her clit before sucking against it, teasing her in all the most amazing ways.

  Guys had gone down on her before, but never like this. With Logan, it was like he'd been given something he'd been waiting for all his life. So enthusiastic, so sure of every stroke and lick. Whatever it was he wanted, she was going to give it to him. This, and so much more.

  The only thing that could have made it better was if she could see the skin of his shoulders, of his toned forearms, as her gripped the insides of her thighs and pleasured her.

  "I want to see you," she said.

  He pulled away from her for a moment and she wanted to groan her disappointment. "How about this. I'll take off one piece of clothing every time I get you to scream."

  "I don't scream," she argued.

  "Tonight you do. And don't fake it. I can tell."

  And like that, he fell to his work again and her back arched against him. She swallowed hard and closed her eyes, gripping the grass for support as his tongue pulsed inside her, filling her with the most delicious fissions of pleasure she'd ever experienced.

  The pressure was building steadily, like a river about to overflow, and her body shook with the need to control the surge. Moving back up to her clit, his tongue played with her before his hand snaked over her stomach and tweaked her pebbled, pink nipple.

  "Oh, God," she cried it out this time, louder than she'd intended, and she could feel him smile against her.

  "That's one," he said, pulling away and tugging his shirt overhead. "You've got more in you than that."

  She'd expected him to dip between her thighs again, but he surprised her. Instead, he dropped soft, sultry kisses over her nipples, dragging his nails along the underside of her breasts until she felt the tension rising in her again. It was an exercise in torture. He'd kiss her slowly at first, then harder, sucking and nibbling until her body writhed beneath him, and he'd pull away again. She wanted to cry and beg and plead.

  Most of all, she wanted to come. She wanted to fuck him until she couldn't remember her own name. She wanted him to feel some modicum of all his delicious torture. Give him a taste of his own medicine.

  And she was just about to say as much, to demand that she feel him, when he dipped a finger inside of her and all of her thoughts ceased to exist.

  The cry escaped her lips without her consent, and stars burst in front of her vision like fireworks on the Fourth of July. She'd wanted this for so long, but all she wanted was more. She rocked against his touch for a moment, but he pulled away and stood, finally tugging off the jeans that had been taunting her for the eternity she'd been waiting here.

  Just the boxers left.

  "If I scream now, will you take those off?" she asked.

  He smiled, but dropped to his knees in reply, pulsing a finger inside of her again until her entire body shook with the effort. She wanted to break apart in his hands, to lose all semblance of control. The thrusts were gentle at first, then faster, more forceful. At last, his lips dropped to her center again and he sucked against her, pushing her so close to the brink that she could see the edge of the cliff.

  So close, so close...

  "Please," she begged. She couldn't take it anymore. She needed him. Needed to come, needed to feel him deep and hard inside of her.

  "Sounds like number three." He pulled away as regret and tension washed over her in equal measure.

  Still, her gaze was focused on him as he pushed away and got to his feet. His thumb hooked beneath the red, elastic waistband and then...

  And then her breath caught, and she was certain she could come just by looking at him.

  Good God, not only did this man have the abs of an Olympian and the face of a Hollister model, but he also had ten more inches to offer than she'd known before. And now, more than ever, she was determined to make sure she experienced every single ounce of him.

  * * *

  He'd imagined this a million times before. A be
autiful woman, splayed out on a baseball field, waiting for him.

  But Andy?

  She was more than even his fantasies could have dreamed up.

  He sank to his knees and trailed kisses from her smooth, flat stomach, to between her two, perfect round breasts, licking a path from one nipple to the other.

  "Please," she breathed again and his cock jerked with the need that had been building since the first moment he'd seen her. But he'd made it this far. He had to wait. He was going to make her come so hard that she wouldn't be able to think straight for days afterward, and the only way to do that was by driving her insane now.

  And himself, too.

  "Patience," he said and kissed from her perfect, pert nipples to the dip of her collarbone, nibbling the delicate skin until he was teasing the hollow of her throat, brushing her soft brown waves.

  She was close enough to feel. Her heat was only inches from his cock. One subtle move, one jerk and he'd be inside of her, warm and wet and perfect.

  He kissed her throat, working his way to her earlobe and teasing her.

  A soft moan escaped her lips and her hips arched up, pressing her pussy against his hard length.

  Goddamn.

  She was so wet, so soft and ready for him.

  "Are you ready?" he whispered.

  Her head shook against him, and that was all the incentive he needed. He didn't dare to pull away from her now. Not with her beautiful, soft breasts pressed against his chest. Instead, he gripped himself and thrust inside.

  And that alone might have been enough to make him lose his edge.

  "Jesus," he ground out. She was the best kind of tight, the most perfect kind of warm, and he was torn between the urge to lay into her and feel her sweet, pink pussy pulse against him or to shove himself deeper, to feel every inch of her until there was nowhere else to go.

  All he knew for sure was that he didn't want his to end. But his body would never allow him to hold still and savor her. He was moving without thinking, working himself in and out of her, slow and deep, until he was completely buried in her.

  She took in a sharp breath and he pulled back, looking over her sweet, rosy blush.

  "Are you okay?" he asked.

  "More than okay," she murmured. "You're just so big."

  Her hips rocked against him and she circled her arms around his back, digging her nails into his skin as if to spur him on.

  And she did. How could he not keep moving? Keep pushing deeper, harder, and faster? Even if he'd wanted to hold back, he couldn't have. Not with her perfect body at his disposal.

  He pulled away until he was perpendicular to her and gripped her hips, pulling and pushing her into him with each thrust. Her breasts bounced with every move, putting him into a trance, and he moved to cup them, to feel them move with him.

  He pinched one nipple and then the other between thumb and forefinger and she cried out again.

  Jesus Christ.

  It was like the woman had been made to make men come. She was so perfect, so hot, so...

  "I'm going to come." Her pussy pulsed around him and he closed his eyes, feeling every quake and movement of her shuddering muscles. God, what he wouldn't give to bottle this feeling. To feel her coming around his hard cock whenever he wanted. And to feel himself, responding to her moves with his own swift thrusts, letting out every desire until all he could feel was the pulsing of his cock as he released himself inside her.

  She gasped her final release and it was all over. The world went white before his eyes and he was lost. Every muscle in his body seemed to expand and contract all at once and before he knew it, he was on top of her, panting on top of her beautiful body.

  He fought the urge to get up.

  As soon as he slid from her and faced her, it would be with the knowledge that they'd both done this. That they'd moved past friendship or business savvy and into an area that they'd never be able to come back from. Maybe she'd thought it was a one-time thing, but he knew better.

  Something had happened between them just now, and he'd be damned if he was going to let her walk away anytime soon.

  But there was only one way to find out how hard he'd have to fight to keep her.

  He slid from her and rolled, landing beside her on the cold, wet grass. For a moment, he stared into the stars, but then he turned to face her.

  She was smiling.

  Not her usual, shy grin or her mocking know-it-all smirk. It was a bright-eyed smile.

  And it was directed at him.

  "Round two?" she breathed, quirking one brow as she spoke.

  His cock pulsed with the notion, but he knew better than to try again so soon. "How about at my place?" he asked.

  "Deal," she breathed and stood. When she was finally up again, she brushed the grass from her knees and backside. He knew he should have joined her, but it was too tempting to lie there and watch as her hands traced over her supple white skin.

  She kicked his elbow. "Hey, I don't have all night." She laughed and bent for her clothes, exposing him to her full backside.

  Oh, when he got her back to his house, he had a whole lot of new things to try. Apparently Andy was just as down for this as he was, and he was going to show her his gratitude in every position he could imagine.

  They got dressed quickly, though if he had his way, they could have had round two right there in the back of his truck. For crissake, that's why God had invented bench seats to begin with.

  Still, after their clothes were hastily put back on, they headed for the car and hopped in. He was so eager to get back to his place that he nearly started the car before he'd gotten in it, and Andy laughed at him.

  "Jeez. Relax, buddy. We'll have plenty of time." She clicked her seatbelt, then offered him a wink.

  Hell, yeah. They'd have all night, and all day, and all night again...

  Andy's phone buzzed against the upholstery and he watched from the corner of his eye as she picked it up.

  He backed out of the parking lot and was on the main road, but when Andy remained quiet, he prompted her, "what's wrong?"

  "Oh, um, I guess I left my phone in the car while we were in the stadium. Actually, I...I don't know if tonight is a good idea. Could you take me home?"

  He chanced a glance at her. Her face was lit up by the white glow of her phone, but the rosy blush that had been there before was long since gone. In its place was an ashy white paleness.

  Shit.

  "What happened?" he asked.

  "It's nothing."

  "Andy." It wasn't a question, and she knew as much.

  "I've got five missed calls and six missed messages from my brother."

  "Matt?"

  "No, Derrick. It's just some family stuff I have to take care of."

  "Can I help?"

  "No."

  "Well, can you at least tell me what's going on? I care about your family, too." He hoped he wasn't overstepping his bounds, but he'd known too many Archers to think that they'd come out and ask for help when they needed it. The only way to get information from that clan was to come out and demand it.

  Andy paused for a long moment and his heart clenched. He'd gone too far.

  When she spoke again, though, his heart had a whole new reason to twist.

  "There was a…" she paused again, watching him from the corner of her eye. "There was a complication. Matt is in San Diego General."

  Without another word, he hung a U-turn in the middle of the road and sped off.

  Chapter 9

  They were close by the hospital, which was a good thing and a very, very bad one.

  Good because it would mean they were that much closer to getting the look of painful worry off of Andy's face.

  Bad because he had little to no time to get his shit together.

  This had been horrible enough the first time, with all the press flocking the building and every player in the universe posting comments and wishes of Matt's speedy recovery. Every day, Logan sat in the parking lot, staring a
t the building as reporters came and went. And sometimes he'd watch Andy, clad in sweats and looking a wreck, stalking through the rotating glass doors first thing in the morning and trudging out long after visiting hours had ended.

  Now was infinitely worse than that.

  Not only did he have to watch Andy, up close and personal, but now he'd have to follow her. To go into the hospital and see his friend laying there, all hooked to wires and tubes, with the full knowledge that it had been Logan who put him there.

  He glanced at Andy as he pulled into the parking lot, but his attention was caught by the flash of a camera as a bulb popped in his window.

  "They never miss a beat," Andy grumbled.

  "Guess not." He cleared his throat.

  She was so miserable, too wrought with her brother's injury. She didn't have to say a word for him to feel it. Her sadness hung in the air like damp summer rain. He knew it was coming, even if he hadn't seen it yet.

  This late at night, most of the visitor's slots were empty, and he found a space close enough to the door that she wouldn't have to walk far in her heels. He popped the car into park, then jumped from his side. And froze.

  The reporter waiting for them hadn't been an anomaly. An entire hoard of onlookers were crowding the place, buzzing around like vultures on road kill. How bad could this complication be that the entire San Diego news community was crowded around the place?

  "He was at practice, I guess." He hadn't noticed, but Andy had circled the car and was standing beside him, answering his unspoken question.

  "Coach Reed thought he could probably be in shape for the season, so they were practicing in secret on the minor fields. There was a bad pitch and..." She trailed off, crossing her arms over her chest and staring into the distance at something he couldn't see.

  "Why wouldn't he have told me that?"

  It was a stupid idea, to agitate his injury after all of the physical therapy he'd been through. If Logan had only known, he might have been able to talk his friend out of it. To make him see reason.

  "You know Matt. It was no big deal. He didn't want to worry you." She slumped against the car and blew out a deep breath. "How is it you can want to take care of someone and still want to kill them at the same time?"