“We’ll check it out after the super clears it. And I’ll replace everything. But you’re sleeping with me tonight.”
I am?
I keep quiet as he continues on to the end of the hall and flicks on the light in his room. I haven’t been in here since that first day exploring.
“I have anything you need. Extra toothbrush. Clothes. Well, maybe not the stuff you usually wear.”
A huff of laughter escapes me. “I’d be a little concerned if you did.”
He rummages in his closet for a minute and comes out with a faded blue Columbia University t-shirt and a pair of boxers. “I don’t wear pajamas to bed, but I have these.”
If he doesn’t wear pajamas, does that mean he wears… nothing? Oh Lord, help me. “This is great. Thanks.”
There’s a knock on the front door and he leaves to deal with the super, his room imposing without him in it. Twice the size of my guest room with floor to ceiling blackout curtains, it gives off strong masculine vibes with its black and steel king bed and matching seating area in the corner, everything else in shades of gray.
I duck into the bathroom and change clothes, scrubbing my makeup off with a spare washcloth under the sink, finding a new toothbrush too while searching under there.
When I come back out, he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing at his temples.
“Is it bad?”
“Yeah,” he sighs. “I want it all redone, just to be safe. The pipes, the wall, the floor. It may take a while.”
I twist the hem of my t-shirt around my finger. “Should I get a hotel in the meantime?”
“No.” We’re both startled by the intensity of his voice, and he quickly clears his throat. “I mean, you can stay in here. If you’re comfortable with that arrangement.”
“And you’ll be in here too?”
He hesitates for a moment. “Yes. It’s a big room.”
With one bed.
“That’s fine with me.” I step in closer, squeezing his arm as I sit beside him. “Thank you for everything.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t thank me. My apartment just ruined your-”
“It’s not your fault.” I place my hand in his, enjoying the heat of his body this close, this sense of togetherness. “You’ve been so incredibly giving. Offering your room to me, a place to live to begin with. You were understanding earlier at the auction. And last night too. Basically all the time.”
His fingers tense around mine. “Don’t make me out to be some saint. I’m not.”
He stands, letting go of my hand, and makes his way into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.
Did I say something wrong? I just wanted to tell him how much I appreciate him. This man who’s willing to work with me. Take the time to try and understand me. Put up with my ridiculous tendency to run away.
I pull back the dark bedspread and crawl under the covers, calming myself until he returns. He removes the oversized watch at his wrist and sets it on his nightstand, unbuttoning his dress shirt quickly. A sliver of tan skin gives way to heavy pecs and toned abs as he slides the shirt from his shoulders, starting in on his belt buckle next. I gape at him, utterly fascinated, and that’s when he seems to realize what he’s doing. “Oh, shit. I was on autopilot-”
“No, it’s fine.” More than fine. Seriously, I could look at him shirtless all day. “Do whatever you normally do. This is your room.”
He nods, unconvinced, and shuts the lamp off, plunging us into darkness. With the blackout curtains over the windows, not an ounce of light gets in.
There’s the quiet shucking of his pants, and then he climbs in next to me. With the size of this bed, though, there’s more than enough space for both of us. Why couldn’t he sleep in some narrow twin bed?
I wait until he’s settled to say, “I’m sorry if I said the wrong thing earlier. I know you’re not perfect. No one is. But you’ve been so good to me. And I really appreciate it.”
The sheets rustle and I imagine him turning on his side to face me. “I’ve barely done anything.”
“You have,” I insist, reaching out for him and finding his arm. I soothe my hand across his warm skin, his muscles flexing under my fingers.
There’s a companionable silence for half a minute until he whispers, “I- I don’t know what I’m doing with you.”
My hand stops. “What do you mean?”
He’s quiet again for a moment before he responds. “I feel like the script keeps flipping and I don’t know how to keep up. There’s suddenly all this change and I’m- God, I can’t believe I’m telling you this.”
“You can talk to me.”
It takes him a little bit to continue. “I’m not ahead of things like I usually am. I’m just reacting.”
For a man in his position, that has to be discomfiting. “It’s okay not to have everything figured out all the time. Remember how I said we would have to wing it?”
“Yeah, and I didn’t like it then either.”
I smile, glad he can’t see me. “I think you’re doing great. Things have changed a lot for both of us.”
“You seem better at adapting than I am.”
I shrug, not that he can tell in the dark. “This seems to be coming easier to me compared to other situations I’ve been in.” Because it’s a wanted change. I’ve ignored my fair share of circumstances in the past, hoping things would magically resolve themselves. Sometimes it worked.
And sometimes it didn’t.
“Do you want to tell me about your mom?”
I sigh, returning my hand to my side. It was only a matter of time before he brought that up. Not that I blame him after the way I acted at the auction. “A question for a question?”
“Okay.”
How to even start with her? There’s a reason I don’t think about Jacqueline Cushing if I can help it.
I tuck my hands under my chin, fiddling with the edge of my pillowcase. “I was a fun accessory for her when I was little,” I tell him, just getting it out there. “But then I actually started, you know, growing. Having my own thoughts and opinions. And then I wasn’t as fun anymore.” I smooth a hand over the sheets, luxuriating in the softness. These must be like a million thread count or something. “She met this other guy, my parents divorced, she didn’t ask for custody, and that’s the end. I haven’t spoken to her in years.”
“So your dad raised you?”
“I mean, I wouldn’t say raised. He provided for me. He did what he could. But he was busy.”
“I know what that’s like.”
“I’m guessing your dad was busy too?”
“That’s an understatement.”
“What about your mom?”
He’s silent for so long I almost think he didn’t hear me until he answers, “She was nothing like him.” He turns over, voice distant now. “Goodnight, Serena.”
Are we done then? “Oh, um, goodnight.”
I turn over too, only an arm’s length away from him, and yet, it’s a distance I can’t quite seem to cross.
I snuggle further into the warmth at my back, my bottom encountering something hard. Mmm, that feels good. So does the tight hold around my chest, the soft breath at the back of my neck-
Wait. Breath at my neck?
I keep as still as possible as I open my eyes, not that I can see anything in the pitch blackness. I’m in Archer’s room. In his bed. With him. And he’s draped around me, my own personal furnace, his arm slung across my torso, curling me into his hard body. Knowing him, I can’t imagine he consciously positioned himself like this, but I revel in it all the same.
I finally register the gentle beeping that woke me, assuming it’s his alarm clock, and as it continues, it gradually increases in volume until he stirs. I stifle a groan as he moves against me, his cock nudging my ass.
His arm leaves me as he reaches behind him to shut it off, but soon returns, pulling me even tighter to him. “You smell so good,” he murmurs, voice rough with sleep. “Like flowers.”
My mouth drops. Is he sleep talking or something?
“It’s Dior,” I whisper, afraid to fully wake him. “A rose and peony blend.”
“You should wear it more. All the time.” He presses a soft kiss to the back of my neck, tingles running rampant down my spine.
“My bottle’s almost out, actually.”
He lets out a drowsy yawn. “I’ll buy you more. Anything you want. And more lingerie. Definitely more of that.” He shifts again, caressing his palm over my stomach. “Although I like seeing you in my clothes too.”
I grin, wondering how long I have until he fully wakes up. “I’ll wear whatever you want me to.” I press back further into him, the pressure turning me on even more. “I like the way you look at me when I do.”
“How’s that?”
I rub my ass up and down his length, his harsh intake of air spurring me on. “Like you want me.”
He stills, his fingers tightening on me for a moment before he lets go, rolling to the other edge of the bed. “Serena-”
“You owe me a question from last night,” I interrupt, mourning the loss of his body. I knew it was too good to last.
“What is it?” His voice is hesitant, weary, and unfortunately, fully awake.
“What did you mean before bed when you said you weren’t a saint?”
I turn over to face him, squinting in the darkness to try and make him out, but it’s still too dark.
“I’m sorry I was touching you. I was asleep. I didn’t realize what I was-”
“You’re not answering the question.”
I can’t imagine speaking to him like this a week ago, but things are different now. I’m not so worried he’ll shut me down anymore.
He lets out a heavy sigh, the sheets rustling. “I’ve been trying to be respectful of you, I promise. A minute ago not being the best example.”
“Why aren’t you a saint?” I ask again when he doesn’t elaborate further.
More silence until he finally admits, “I’m having trouble… separating everything. What’s real and what’s not. I keep having these thoughts I shouldn’t. I can’t turn it on and off the way you can. And like I said last night, I keep reacting.”
“To me?”
“Yes.”
I chew on my lip, debating how to respond. If I tell him I haven’t been acting, that if anything, I’ve been purposely provoking him, will he feel deceived?
Or relieved?
He’s attracted to me, reacting to me. Is it only his sense of honor getting in the way?
“It’s okay to touch me, Archer. There’s nothing wrong about it. I’m your wife after all.”
A fake wife. In a sham marriage. Please don’t let him bring up that fact.
“Do you want me to touch you?” he asks in a low voice, sending a shiver through me.
I thought that was fairly obvious when I was grinding on top of him in his office. But maybe I muddied the waters when I ran away afterward.
I close my eyes as I make a leap of faith, deciding not to flee and instead put myself out there. “Yes. I want you to touch me.”
I wait for him to reach out, to grab me, anything, but he doesn’t, still motionless on his side of the bed for what seems an endless stretch of time.
My face heats the longer the silence continues, until it’s impossibly hot, practically scorching the pillowcase. “Please say something,” I whisper.
“Serena, I’m holding myself back over here.” His voice is even lower, if that’s possible. “I don’t think you realize what you’re asking for.”
My heart lifts, a pleasant thrill running through me. “I do.”
He reaches out a hand and finds mine, our fingers entwining. “This would change things.”
“Things are already changing.” I pull his hand up to kiss his knuckles, unable to help myself.
He tugs me toward him and I gladly comply, letting out a soft sound of need as my lips find his in the darkness, his body still achingly warm as it presses flush against mine.
And this time, I’m not running away.
Chapter Fourteen
Archer
My body relaxes as she opens her mouth further, inviting me to lick my way in, her taste already necessary. I cup her jaw, changing the angle of our kiss, restraining myself so I don’t overwhelm her, though I’m dying to discover every secret part of her.
My wife.
Does she know how much of a turn on it was to hear her refer to herself that way? The rush of possession that ran through me? The trail of goosebumps that chased over my skin? But why would hearing it from her lips cause that level of reaction within me?
I don’t remember exactly what I said to her while half asleep, but as my morning wood pressed into her ass, her sweet voice telling me I’d been looking at her like I wanted her, the fog lifted from my mind.
What she said was true. I just thought I’d hidden it better.
It still feels like I’m in a dream as she runs her hand over my chest, dipping down to my abs, flirting over the waistband of my boxers, her fingers light but purposeful as she finds the flap, stroking me softly.
I suck in a breath, her touch on me everything I’ve imagined. Not that I’ve been imagining this exact scenario. Not that the tiniest part of me hoped this might happen when I invited her in my bed. I swear the overwhelming part was only thinking of keeping her out of her room where God knows what else could go wrong. And if she’s in here with me, I know she’s safe.
Her hand moves over me steadily, gripping just right, and I’m helpless to do anything but accept her touch, groaning aloud at how good it is. How does she have this kind of power over me already?
“Do you like it when I touch you too?” she asks against my lips, still eagerly kissing me.
“I think you can tell how much I do.” I thrust into her hand, her fingers velvety soft over me, my hips pumping instinctively as she gives me more than I was ever expecting.
She gives me.
Oh, shit. I’m no better than those other assholes, am I? Taking from her without giving in return.
My hand sneaks under her shirt, trailing up her stomach to find her breast, shaping the weight gently, a thrill running through me at finally having my hands on her.
Her fingers fumble in their stroking as she releases a sound of pleasure, and I position her on her back, lifting her shirt to better access what’s underneath, wanting to taste her next. She lets go of me to thread her hands in my hair as I bend down and tenderly nuzzle her, taking my time, capturing a nipple in my mouth to gently suck her.
“Archer,” she pants, just like she did the other night in my office, her hips lifting, seeking relief.
I tease the edge of the boxers she’s wearing, sneaking a hand inside to pull her lace panties aside, her pussy already wet for me.
She makes an unintelligible sound as I enter a finger slowly, giving her time to adjust around me before I move in and out, building her up.
“Has a guy ever fingered you?” I add a second finger, gliding easily, her arousal coating me.
“No,” she moans, tugging at my hair, turning frantic. “You’re the only one. The only one who’s ever made me feel this way.”
Pride bursts in my chest, my mouth returning to hers, giving her a deep kiss that goes on and on, the two of us desperate for one another. She makes these tiny sounds of encouragement in the back of her throat, ratcheting my desire higher, and I can’t help but brush my dick along her inner thigh, needing relief.
She takes hold of me again, pumping me roughly, the pressure making me groan as we continue on for long minutes, our breaths turning harsher as we work each other up. A tingle races down my spine, but I don’t want to come without her. I just need to get her there too.
My thumb finds her clit, massaging it gently, and she lets out a keening cry, toppling over the edge, and I follow right behind, taking her hand and angling myself up so I jet on my stomach, a heavy sense of satisfaction filling me. I slowly withdr
aw my fingers from her as she twitches with aftershocks and I grab a tissue off the nightstand, wiping myself clean.
She lets out a satisfied sigh and curls herself into my side, her body soft and relaxed. I inhale, trying to get more of her scent, but there’s only a heavy musk in the air from our interlude.
“That was amazing,” she whispers. “Even better than the other night.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her all the other things on my mind to do. Her spread wide for me as I hungrily eat her out. Her riding atop me as I suck those sweet nipples, her pleading cries spurring me on. Me thrusting inside her as I tease her clit again, wanting to hear her come for me once more. We’ve barely scratched the surface.
But I stay quiet, still coming to terms with this atypical behavior on my part. I can’t remember craving another person this badly, the sense of possession that had flooded me knowing I was the only one to do this for her.
She said things are already changing, and that’s true, but how much? What does this mean for this… relationship we’ve found ourselves in?
She rubs a hand over my chest, drawing small circles over my pectorals, and my body relaxes again into the mattress, my mind taking her advice and letting go of the urge to solve this right away.
I turn over and find my phone on the nightstand, the display nearly blinding me with its brightness. Quarter to seven. There goes my morning workout.
Not that I regret the time spent otherwise.
“I need to get ready.”
She presses a kiss into my shoulder. “What do you want for breakfast? I can ask Lori to start it.”
Oh, shit. How could I forget about Lori? Did she catch the tail end of our activities? I’ve never tested whether you can hear anything in here from the kitchen.
“Um, whatever is easy. Eggs and toast or something.”
“Okay.” She sits up and pauses. “I’m blind,” she laughs. “Can you turn on a light?”
“Sure.” I press the button on the wall that retracts the curtains, daylight filling the room.
She climbs off the bed and heads toward the window, staring out. “Wow, this is the best view in the house.”
Marrying the Billionaire (Bishop Brothers Book 2) Page 12