Toeing the Line (The Complete Serial)

by Allyson Lindt

  “Wait. Really?” Archer studied her, curiosity and doubt in his hazel eyes. “Are you doing more than just dabbling now?”

  “She’s going pro.” Zane smirked.

  She was going to kill him. Or something. Why was he doing this to her? The private support was one thing, but getting friends and family to gang up on her, bombarding her with so many expectations, when she didn’t even know if she had what it took to make it, was too much.

  “For real?” Archer raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

  She furrowed her brow. How was she supposed to respond to that? “I haven’t decided yet. It gets difficult to pick a direction, when someone”—she glared at Zane—“keeps telling everyone before I’ve made up my mind.”

  Zane frowned and turned away.

  “You know he’s biased.” Archer didn’t back down. “It’s really hard to make it in that market. You can’t be good. You have to be the best.”

  Zane’s eyes narrowed. “She is the best.”

  “She’s good.” Archer shrugged. “I’m just saying.”

  “Well, don’t,” Zane said.

  Riley’s good mood evaporated, the truth of Archer’s words sinking in. Maybe suggesting they all go for coffee was a bad idea. Exhaustion overtook her thoughts, pushed on a wave of Archer’s doubt. He might be a lot of things she didn’t like, but he also never sugarcoated the truth, the way Zane did. Archer had a point. She’d have to be the best, and she wasn’t.

  Chapter Twelve

  Riley didn’t want to go through the front door. She didn’t want to do this in front of Archer and every other customer in the shop, but Zane was in there, behind the counter, not looking quite genuine as he laughed with his friends. She pushed inside, and Archer grinned.

  “Hey. Are you here for the manga after all?” he asked.

  She was there for her drawings, but she knew that wasn’t what he meant. She looked at Zane, hoping her expression conveyed how desperately she didn’t want to discuss details. “Technically.”

  Zane straightened up. “Hey.”

  “I need back that thing you borrowed yesterday.” It took a force of will to keep the tension from her voice. She didn’t care that Zane still had her sketchpad; she didn’t want to talk about it with an audience. Her ego was bruised enough without another dig from Archer. But asking if she and Zane could talk privately would expose as much of her.

  “So this is what it’s like to be on the outside of her vague questions.” Archer looked back and forth between them, his tone too light, given the tension in the room.

  Zane rolled his eyes and turned to Riley, expression softening. “It’s in my apartment.”

  “Sounds perfect.” She ignored the way Archer clenched his jaw, and followed Zane upstairs. When he held his apartment door open for her, she brushed past without a word, pacing the short distance between the living room and kitchen areas before turning on her toe and heading in the other direction.

  He leaned back against the door, hands in his pockets. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  “Nothing. Just… Nothing. I need my sketchpad back.”

  He kicked away from the door and crossed the room to stand next to the kitchen table, directly in her pacing path. “It’s obviously not nothing.”

  “You think?” She came up short, a few feet back. “You really can’t figure it out?” An irritation she hadn’t realized was there surged forward.

  He shrugged.

  “You can’t just go around telling everyone what I’m trying to do with my art.”

  “I won’t, if you ask me not to, but can I at least know why?”

  She clenched her teeth. How could he not get it? “Because of conversations like this. Because even though it’s awesome that you support my decision, you don’t understand what it takes. Kenzie and Archer—they don’t get it. Every time they voice their opinion, it’s another layer of doubt, taunting me and telling me I’m making a mistake. It’s more pressure and doesn’t help that I’m terrified of showing my work to a lot of people.”

  The confession was out, and though it left a gnawing in her gut, it also felt good.

  The corners of his mouth drooped. “I didn’t realize.”

  She sighed. “I adore you—you know it—and I’m flattered you think I’m talented. I’m not sure you’re right, but I like hearing it.”

  He closed the distance between them. “You should have told me sooner.”

  “I’m telling you now.”

  His smile grew hopeful. “I promise I’ll try to keep it all in mind. Are we’re good again?” Zane asked.

  She smiled. “Yeah, we’re good again.”

  “Which means make-up sex.” The way he raked his gaze over her, lingering on each curve, contradicted his teasing tone.

  She couldn’t help her relieved laugh or the flush of heat the idea brought with it. “Technically, I don’t think we get make-up sex without a breakup, and we can’t have one of those..”

  “Okay.” He traced a finger down the side of her face. “Then best-friend sex.”

  “Is that a thing?”

  He brushed his lips along the outside of her ear. “Isn’t it? Besides”—his voice dropped an octave—“I can’t stop thinking about how tight and wet you were last night. How you let me take control.”

  The confidence in his words made her skin tingle and her pulse race. “It was pretty amazing.”

  “Amazing.” He trailed his fingers up her spine. “I like that. Would you let me do it again?”

  Warmth spread deep in her belly. “Maybe.”

  “Uh-uh.” He broke contact with her but didn’t pull away. “Yes-or-no question. I know what I want, but I’m not doing it unless you’re sure.”

  She swallowed, body humming in anticipation. “I’m positive.”

  Her comment was cut short when he nipped her bottom lip with his teeth. He twisted his fingers in her hair and pulled her back to him, crushing his mouth against hers. The smell of sweat mingled with the scents of musk and deodorant. An insistent need grew between her legs.

  She covered his other hand and pushed it farther up her thigh, hooking her knee on his hip. Something whispered in the back of her mind that they couldn’t keep toeing this line. She ignored it. This was exactly what she wanted. She needed to be closer to him.

  He slid his hand along her ass and up over the curve of her hip, a chuckle rumbling in his chest. He moved his mouth back to her neck, his breath tickling her skin. “During the entire movie, I couldn’t stop daydreaming about how it felt to be buried inside you.”

  The confession in his words made her thoughts melt and her skin ache for more. She fumbled for a good comeback, but her attempts failed when he grazed the soft spot between her neck and shoulders and sucked on the sensitive flesh.

  He found the seam of her jeans that ran between her legs. She whimpered when he applied pressure with his fingers, rubbing her already wet slit through denim. She dug her nails into his back, squeaked, and shifted her weight until her aching button settled under his touch. He massaged harder, and she ground against his hand, feeling her climax build.

  Her breathing came in short gasps, so many points of contact making her light-headed. Disappointment washed over her when he pulled away.

  He kissed her pout and then moved to stand behind her, leaving her between him and the table. He brushed the outside of her ear with his lips and rested his hands on her stomach. “You trust me, right?”

  She swallowed, mouth dry from anticipation, not doubt. She made sure her answer was clear, without any waver. “Yes.”

  His chest was hot against her back. “And you’re okay with wherever this goes?”

  “More than okay.” Her heart hammered, as a million images of what he meant taunted her simultaneously.

  He tugged her shirt over her head and tossed it aside. “No bra. Makes this easier.”

  He moved his hands to her breasts and kneaded the soft flesh. She arched her back against him when he finally rea
ched her nipples. He pinched both at the same time and fire spread through every inch of her. He bit the soft skin between her neck and shoulder, sucking in time to her moans. His hard arousal dug into her ass. She wanted more, but she also wanted to stretch the moment out and enjoy the prolonged teasing.

  He dropped his hands to her waist, not fumbling at all as he undid her jeans. He hooked his thumbs over the waistband and tugged everything to the floor, leaving her exposed from head to foot, and binding her ankles.

  Cool air rushed in around her, and her pulse pounded under her skin. She’d never had a guy take control like this before. She and Zane had talked about it several times. Now that it was actually happening, it made her head fuzzy, and she wanted more.

  He cupped her ass before sliding his hand between her legs. “Fuck. You’re so wet.” His growl vibrated through her back.

  “I think you had a lot to do with that.” She closed her eyes, focusing on as many sensations as she could.

  He massaged her slit, not dipping inside or reaching high enough to brush her clit. He placed his free palm against her spine and pushed her forward.

  She did as prompted, bending at the waist and leaning over the table. The hard oak pressed into her chest and aching nipples. He held her in place. Her desire swelled when he dropped his hand from between her legs, and the faint but familiar sound of a zipper greeted her. A few seconds later, she heard the crinkle of cellophane.

  He ran his hands from her shoulders down her arms, and pulled her wrists together. He grabbed both hands in one of his and pinned them in the small of her back. He spread her lower lips with his fingers, teasing her entrance.

  She couldn’t hold out much longer. “Please.”

  “Please what?”

  “Fuck me.”

  He chuckled. There was no warning before he pushed inside, and her moan echoed off the table at the exquisite pain of being stretched out so much, so fast. He didn’t let up, grunting as he pounded against her. The friction of having her legs together, combined with the spot he hit in her pushed her toward climax hard and fast. Her breathing came in short gasps, and she couldn’t hold back the cries as she came.

  She clenched around his cock, his erection buried deep inside her. She gasped when he found her clit at the height of her orgasm, and he rubbed the throbbing button. Part of her wanted to pull away, because it was almost too much, but the pleasure continued to assault her in waves. He slammed inside her, and her nipples scuffed against the wood grain with each new thrust. Another orgasm taunted her, bringing her right to the edge, but not further.

  His breathing grew shallower, his thrusts more abbreviated and frantic. “I want you to come for me again.” It was a command, not a request. Instead of teasing, he pressed his fingers roughly against her clit.

  The sensation tore a climax from her, and she came hard, tightening around him. He pulled his fingers away from the now too-sensitive region between her legs. His grunts were fast and heavy, ending with the sound she knew so well and loved hearing on the phone. Hearing him get off was even better in person. The pounding slowed and then came to a stop.

  He let go of her wrists and moved his hands to her hips, as he and she struggled to catch their breath. She pushed up to her elbows, wincing as her legs wobbled and threatened to give out. He collapsed into a nearby chair, and was tender, helping her find her balance and then tugging her to sit on his lap.

  She rested her head on his shoulder and her hand on his chest. His heart hammered against her palm.

  He brushed his lips along the outside of her ear, his teasing voice barely a whisper. “I know it’s not why you came over, but it’s definitely a plus.”

  She smiled at the gentle sensation and struggled to find her voice. “I can’t believe you did that.” It had never felt so good in her imagination.

  He traced his fingers up her bare spine. “It seemed appropriate.”

  “I’m not complaining. You should trust your instinct more often.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” A tiny waver lined his laugh. As if he held back… again. Or she was imagining things that weren’t there, when she should be falling into this moment and enjoying it as the flash in time it was.

  He tightened his grip around her, and the feeling echoed in her chest, squeezing around her heart. She snuggled closer and tried to blank out her mind.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Zane struggled to bring focus to his jumbled thoughts. He trudged from the glass building, toward his truck at the back of the business-center parking lot. Another interview down.

  Fuck. He wanted to yell into the wide open space. All the people coming and going might not appreciate that, and the last thing he needed was to make his situation worse.

  He’d been doing great in there, as far as he could tell. Getting along with the panel of interviewers, comprised of a manager and several peers. He’d aced all the technical questions. They were a little easy, but he couldn’t be picky at this point. Then the manager asked about on-the-job experience, digging for details. Zane gave them as much as he could. The way the conversation closed off after that point told him it wasn’t enough.

  Maybe he’d hear back from them. He doubted it. His mood shifted another notch closer to irritated when he saw the woman leaning against his truck. Slacks. Long legs. Black hair pulled into a tight bun. His former commanding officer… And ex-girlfriend.

  A rush of images surged into his thoughts. Plaguing. Taunting. Tormenting. Digging into his core, until the graphic images and guilt threatened to devour him. He swallowed down the memories her presence summoned, pasted a cool smile in place, and paused when he was within conversation distance. “Sabrina.”

  She pushed away from the truck, and gave him full salute. “You wear the suit well, Sergeant.”

  The formality burrowed under his calm. “What are you doing here?”

  “You weren’t returning my calls, so I’m trying a new approach.” Her tone was pleasant and smooth. He knew the voice—it was the one she used when tried to coax something out of someone. To figure out how they ticked. To glean enough to shift the conversation in her favor.

  He wasn’t interested in letting that happen. “And if you track me down, say, in front of a potential employer’s office, rather than at home, you figure I’ll be polite. I’ll rephrase my question. How did you find me here?”

  “I’m a spy.” A tiny smile danced on her lips, and a giggle laced her words.

  A few years ago, he fell for the act. He knew better now. “I have someplace else to be.”

  “If you were me, how would you have found you?” Her tone went flat, and the teasing vanished.

  He ticked through a mental list of the options. She might have used the same methods they did back then, when they worked together. Gotten to know a friend of his and dragged out enough information to penetrate his computer. His ego wouldn’t let him believe that could slip by him. “GPS on my phone.”

  “See? This is child’s play for you. How’d the interview go?”

  He stepped around her. “Have a nice day, Captain.”

  “The job won’t be on the table much longer.”

  He paused with his hand on the door of the truck. “Which is fine. My answer hasn’t changed.”

  “Let’s go somewhere and talk. Coffee, conversation, catching up… It’ll be like old times.”

  He clenched his jaw at the fresh wave of old times memories. Not just the results of his actions, but the relationship he had with her. “Not interested. If this is a limited-time offer, pull it now and go find someone else. Unless there’s a reason you want it to be me.”

  Her bitter chuckle was enough to draw his gaze, and he turned to face her again. She clucked. “Check your ego at the door, Sergeant. You’re not the best. Not anymore. But you’re still incredible, and your motivations go beyond cash.” The word incredible rolled off her tongue with smooth sensuality.

  He never should have gotten involved with her. “Most people know that a
bout me.”

  “Fine. I’ll drop the pretenses. You’re not going to find better somewhere else. This position will push your limits and give you access to top-secret technology. And don’t bother playing the morals card. We both know that’s a fuzzy line for you. If you’d walk away from your unrealistic fantasy of a civilian life, you could admit you’re perfect for the kind of work I’m proposing.”

  “I’m not.” He yanked the car door open harder than he intended. “The answer’s still no. Have a good afternoon.”

  His hand shook as he started the truck and backed out of its spot. The confrontation wasn’t a big deal. A stilted conversation, at worst. Her words haunted him though. The certainty he’d cave again. That regardless of how hard he tried to convince himself he wasn’t that man, her offer was more tempting than ever. Not only because he couldn’t find work, but because she was right. It would push his limits. He’d gain so much experience.

  He stowed his doubt under familiar reassurances. There was no reason for him to go back to that. He’d learned that lesson. The words repeated in his head as he drove home, running round and round until he believed them.

  ****

  The familiar scents of paper and glass cleaner greeted Riley when she pushed into the comic store. Archer looked up from his spot across the room the moment the door chimed, and his smile grew when he saw her.

  “Hey.” His greeting was warm.

  “Hey, yourself.”

  His smile wilted a little. “You’re not here for me.”

  Guilt that it was so obvious tickled her senses. She could at least make small talk. “I didn’t say that. What’s up?”

  He shook his head and stepped aside. “Nice try, but I’m not buying it. He’s upstairs.”

  “Archer.” She reached out but dropped her hand before it connected with him. What was she going to say? She couldn’t give him false hope. An apology didn’t sound appropriate, since she hadn’t done anything wrong.

  He stepped farther away. “No big deal. I have work to do, anyway.”

  Relief at the quick reprieve made her guilt grow, and she wove her way through the store and toward the back stairs without much more than a quick goodbye. She should have gone through the back entrance and avoided Archer altogether, but old habits died hard.