“Did Angelina comment on the photo from this afternoon?” she asks, settling back into a reclining position.
“She approved. Especially adding the dog.” I take another bite of popcorn. “What did Wendy say?”
“About what?”
She’s going to make me say it? “When I kissed you.”
Her eyes dart over to me and back to the TV. “She said it was good to see me happy.”
I nod, focusing on the show again, but something niggles at the back of my mind. Good to see her happy. As if she wasn’t before. And Wendy mentioned Serena being upset last month after getting engaged to Gabriel.
But Serena’s a great actress. Why would she appear upset?
“Have you… not been happy?”
She sighs, keeping her gaze faced forward. “I didn’t want to marry your brother,” she replies bluntly. “But I’ve come around to the idea since then.”
Since she was still engaged to Gabriel? Or since marrying me?
Not that it matters.
“Are you happy now?”
She finally looks over at me, but for some reason, I can’t meet her eye. “Yeah, I am,” she says softly.
Warmth spreads through my chest unexpectedly before I tamp it down. She’s not happy because of me. It’s probably because she has her dad off her back now.
It sounded more like he had cast her aside the last time she spoke of him. That’s not something to be happy about.
Okay, then. She was afraid of the unknown with Gabriel. And now that she’s actually living with me, she realizes it’s not so bad.
Yeah, that’s it.
We watch another episode, and I turn to her after it’s over to ask if she wants to keep going, only to find her eyes shut, head turned awkwardly on her pillow. My gaze drifts down, one sleeve of her sweatshirt slipping off, her shoulder bare. Is she wearing anything underneath?
Jesus Christ. The sexy sleepwear I can understand provoking these thoughts, but oversized loungewear? What’s wrong with me?
I turn off the TV and set the popcorn bowl on her nightstand, pulling a spare blanket from the closet to lie over her. She makes a soft snuffling sound as she curls into its warmth, and I quickly close the door behind me, needing to get out of there, to preserve my sanity if nothing else. Every day I spend with her uncovers yet another side of her, today being no different.
Nonprofit director beloved by her employees and animals alike.
Homebody who enjoys watching cheesy comedies, her soprano laughter sweet and inviting.
Unintentional seductress with yoga moves that make men fall to their knees.
She keeps pulling me in, something about her rendering me powerless against any will to fight.
But what exactly is she doing?
And what am I fighting?
Chapter Eleven
Serena
I spritz my Dior perfume on my wrists, rubbing them together to distribute the scent, and inhale deeply, loving the mixture of roses and peonies. It’s always been a confidence booster for me, and I’ve been relying on it more than ever the past week. It’s a shame my bottle’s nearly run out.
Staring at myself in the bathroom mirror, I fuss with my hair for a few minutes and end up leaving it loose around my shoulders, unable to commit to a hairstyle. Butterflies dance in my stomach as I double check the sash on my silk robe, then wipe my sweaty palms on a hand towel. It’s not nerves - just excitement.
Archer basically said he liked me visiting his office, right? That was the underlying message behind his words last night. And I promised to visit. I can’t back out now.
I’m giddy as I head into the kitchen and fill one of the heavy tumblers with Scotch, willing my hands not to shake as I carry it to his office door.
There’s no reason to be nervous. He practically invited me here.
I think.
I knock softly and enter, his gaze not focused on me but his laptop, squinting at the screen. Does he need glasses or something? Every time I see him at his computer, he’s squinting.
“Hi.”
He straightens in his chair, eyes catching mine. “You came.”
“I said I would, didn’t I?” I’ve been looking forward to it all day, only half paying attention to the board meeting I sat in on for a local museum.
I hand him his Scotch, but there’s no lingering this time on my cleavage. I’ve never been so disappointed to have a man not ogle me before.
He takes a long draw from the glass, pinching at the bridge of his nose afterward. “Thanks. I needed that.”
“If you ever need anything, just let me know.”
He sets the whiskey down, rubbing at the back of his neck, but otherwise stays silent.
“How was work?”
“Lots of meetings today.”
“And no breaks?”
His lips twist wryly. “No breaks.”
“Can you take one now?”
He watches me for a moment, his blue eyes holding me in place. If I could only figure out what’s going on in his head. He finally nods, shutting his laptop.
I circle around to the back of his chair, once again whispering my hands up his strong arms, all the way to those broad shoulders, massaging at the heavy muscles, his whole demeanor changing. He lets out a long breath, relaxing into his seat. “I’m starting to get spoiled.”
If you think this is good, let me show you what I can really do.
No, I can’t actually say that. “I like doing it.” It’s the truth. And can be taken in a totally non-sexual way.
He chuckles lightly. “Why?”
Of course he’d ask me that. “I like helping you. There’s so little I can do otherwise.”
His shoulders tighten. “You don’t owe me anything.”
I dig my thumbs in until he relaxes again. “I know. But I’m saying I want to.” I close my eyes, immediately wishing I hadn’t phrased it like that. “Not owe you. I just mean it’s something easy for me to do, and you seem to enjoy it, so why not?”
Ugh, that’s just as bad, like I don’t care one way or the other.
I keep my mouth shut after that, not wanting to make things worse, and after I’ve done as much as I possibly can, my hands aching, I gradually stop, smoothing my palms along his shoulders. I linger for a moment longer, the ready made excuse to touch him dwindling, and eventually step back.
He spins his chair around to face me, the first time he’s done that, and looks up at me seriously. “Thank you.”
“It’s no trouble.”
His gaze finally lowers on my choice of sleepwear for the night, a sapphire silk robe similar to the black one he’s already seen. It dips low in the front, the lace balconette bra I’m wearing beneath peeking out the tiniest bit.
My breaths hasten under his watchful stare, waiting for… something.
“Do you normally wear stuff like this to bed?”
Oh God, I’m busted. No, obviously I don’t sleep in skimpy robes and lingerie. “I, um, told you how I couldn’t take all my clothes with me.”
“I thought you bought more things.”
Yeah. What you’re looking at. Time to deflect. “Do you not like what I’m wearing?”
He reaches out, fingering the silk tie of the robe. “It’s soft.”
I bite my lip, wishing he’d tug the tiniest bit to loosen the sash. “Mmm hmm.”
“You can use my card to buy whatever you need.” He continues playing with the tie, looping it around his finger. “But I do like it. I mean, it looks good on you.”
I smile, glad to have finally gotten something out of him. “Well, if you like it, I don’t need anything else.”
He glances up at me, his hand dropping, but with the tie still wrapped around his finger, it opens the robe, revealing my matched lingerie set.
His gaze drops to my breasts, traveling south over my bare midriff to the low-cut scrap of lace covering my bottom half, and back up, getting stuck on my chest.
My nipples bead under his
stare, clearly visible in the bra meant purely for enjoyment rather than any kind of actual support, and his body sways toward me, eyes glazed over with a hunger that makes my belly dip low with excitement.
Have I put a spell on him? Is my plan actually working?
I move closer, his legs parting as I step in between them, his hand coming forward to wrap itself around my waist. He finally looks up, gaze burning fiercely, and I bend down, under a spell myself as our mouths meet in a hot kiss.
His other hand comes up to cup the back of my neck, his warmth sending shivers through me, and I brace my hands on his shoulders, his lips moving masterfully under mine. His grip on me tightens, urging me forward, until I can’t get any closer, his hand drifting down, guiding me to bring first one leg up, then the other, straddling his lap in his office chair, the leather cool under my shins.
I settle myself on him, both his hands palming my ass, and I let out a shaky moan, a flare of arousal coursing through me. I press into him, his cock hardening underneath me, and lick my way into his mouth, too far gone to care about appearances or whether he’ll think this is too forward. This is what I’ve wanted. What I’ve been craving.
And he’s right there with me, his tongue tangling with mine, the taste of whiskey inciting me. I cup his jaw, changing the angle of our kiss, and grind on top of him, his gentle squeezes of my ass doing more than he knows to build me up.
I rub my chest against his, the friction against my nipples making me moan aloud again, and he breaks from my mouth to trail kisses down my neck and into the valley of my breasts, my breaths harsh as his tongue delves into my cleavage. He moves to my right breast, one hand coming up to gently shape its weight, his lips flirting with the edge of the bra cup, and my chest strains toward him, hoping he’ll go further.
My hips continue to move reflexively on him, using the bulge in his pants to grind on, a rush running through me as his tongue makes contact with my nipple, swirling around it slowly. An unintelligible noise escapes me, my fingers digging at his shoulders once more, wishing his shirt was gone so I could touch the warmth of his skin.
He moves the bra cup down further, sucking gently at my breast, tingles spreading throughout me at how good it feels, how much I’ve wanted this, how long I’ve waited.
“Archer,” I pant, the sensations overwhelming me, grinding harder against him, that elusive peak suddenly there. I hurtle over it, wild as I buck against him, unable to control myself.
And it’s only as my breaths slow that the realization of what I just did sets in. Dry humped him like there’s no tomorrow, chanting his name, tearing down all the carefully constructed walls I’ve built making it seem like I’m not completely gone for him already. Revealing how little sexual experience I actually have, as evidenced by how quickly I came on top of him, when he barely even touched me.
“I, uh…” I lean back, my cheeks burning hot, looking everywhere but him. He’ll realize my true intentions, how badly I’ve wanted him from the start.
It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. I was going to be smooth, seductive. Not a red-faced mess who can’t keep herself together.
I climb off his lap and close my robe, rushing out of his office, no clue what to say and no desire to stick around.
I make it to the safety of my bedroom and shut the door behind me, panting in the darkness of the room, my heart pounding. I’ll figure it out tomorrow. Somehow, in my dreams tonight, the answer will come to me of how to perfectly explain away my ridiculous-
“Serena?”
My eyes squeeze tight, heartbeat picking up even more, until I’m sure he can hear it through the door. If I stay quiet, will he give up and return to his room? Could I pretend like I’m not home?
“I just want to check that you’re okay.” He clears his throat, voice lowering. “I’m not sure what happened in there.”
You married a crazy lady, that’s what.
“I’m fine.” It comes out higher pitched than I’d like, but there’s nothing I can do about it.
There’s silence on the other side, long enough for the heat in my cheeks to fade, for the squeezing sensation in my chest to loosen its grip, but my reprieve doesn’t last forever.
“I think we should talk.”
Crap. What man actually wants to talk?
I turn on the lamp and open the door, turning around to sit on my bed, angled away from him. I don’t know what to say, how to explain myself, how to-
“I’m sorry.”
I look over at him, his hair disheveled, as if he’s been running his hands through it, a sober expression on his face.
“I completely overstepped the boundaries and I shouldn’t have done that.”
My lips part, unsure I’m hearing him correctly. Is he apologizing to me?
“You were right to leave,” he continues. “We never agreed on any-”
“Archer, no.” Guilt churns in my stomach. I can’t have him blaming himself, especially over something that was one hundred percent my doing. “I didn’t leave because I thought it was wrong. I left because I was… embarrassed.”
He blinks. “At what we did?”
“No, just… myself.”
“Why?”
Is he really going to make me say it?
“I haven’t- I’ve never-” I look down at my lap, stroking the silk tie of my robe that started it all. “I’ve never orgasmed from a guy before, okay? And I freaked out a little.”
There’s silence in the room, my face flooding with heat, and I let my hair fall down in a curtain to hide me from his view.
Yeah, I know how it sounds. This gorgeous, brilliant, noble man who could have any woman he wants is stuck with me - the twenty-seven year old wonder who’s been with a grand total of two guys. And I apparently didn’t inspire enough from either of them to do more than grunt on top of me for a while until they finished.
There’s a soft rustle, and then the mattress depresses down next to me, Archer filling my vision.
“Hey.” He places a finger under my chin, lifting it up. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about.”
My lips twist in an attempt not to cry - from his kindness or my own mortification, I’m not sure.
“I’m being serious. You were… glorious.”
My mouth dries at the earnest look on his face. What in the world is he talking about?
“Do you have, uh, any experience with guys?” he asks, then immediately shakes his head. “Wait, I shouldn’t have asked-”
“No, it’s fine. I-” I swallow, wishing I’d never started this whole thing. What did I think would happen when I played with fire? “I’ve been in two relationships. Neither lasted long. And they didn’t- Well, I guess they didn’t care enough to try-” Ugh, how do I say this?
“So you’ve just… by yourself…”
“Oh my God,” I mutter, another wave of heat washing over me. “Yes.”
He nods, thankfully staying mature about it all. “I guess we haven’t talked about our… needs or anything.”
Our needs? What I need to do is have a black hole swallow me up right now. “I didn’t think we needed to.” A thought occurs to me. “Unless you have someone-”
“No, I don’t,” he interrupts. “There’s no one else.”
The knot in my stomach unclenches.
He stands, crossing over to the door again. “This whole situation, it seems to be affecting us a little. Everything’s getting a bit too real. It’s only natural we’d need to let off some steam.”
I jump on the out he offers me. “Right. That makes sense.”
“And now we have. So we’re good.”
“We’re good,” I agree, my head bobbing too fast to seem normal.
He nods too, the lengthy pause afterward excruciating.
“I meant to tell you earlier we were invited to a silent auction tomorrow night.”
“Perfect. Sounds great.” I’ll agree to anything to end this conversation.
“I’ll have Tracy forward you
the details,” he murmurs. “Goodnight.”
“Night.”
I wait until he completely shuts the door before I flop on my bed, my back hitting the mattress with a soft thud. Maybe I should have thought about what would actually happen if he fell for my skimpy nightwear rather than just parading around in front of him. Did I think he’d see my cleavage and magically fall in love with me? No, there are steps to build on, and I almost failed this one. If Archer wasn’t so kind and level-headed to seek me out and make some sense of it, I could have ruined everything.
But I didn’t. And he’s definitely attracted to me - there’s no denying that. The way his mouth had moved over mine, his lips soft, tongue skilled. The way his hips had gently thrust up into me, cock hard against his fly, rubbing me exactly right. The way he’d sucked my breast with just enough pressure to tease, making me want more, craving him.
My body breaks out in full goosebumps at the remembrance of how high I’d crested, no thought to anything but how he makes me feel.
Desired. Wanted. Needed.
I’ve never been those things before. Not with those past two relationships. Not with my family.
And though I may have bungled it tonight, I’ll regroup and be better prepared for next time.
Because I want it again.
Chapter Twelve
Archer
Serena’s hand squeezes mine tightly as we walk into the ballroom of the silent auction, but there’s no hint on her face that something’s amiss. If anything, she appears almost bored.
At least things seem to be normal between us. I was half afraid I’d fucked everything up last night.
“Are you okay?”
She seems to startle, looking over at me questioningly. “Yes.”
I nod, recalling our lunch with Harlan and Courtney last week and how she’d retreated into herself then too. “You see anyone you know?”
She takes a cursory glance of the room. “No.”
Marrying the Billionaire (Bishop Brothers Book 2) Page 10