by Nina Lane
After the girl had left, Kelsey glared at me. “What was that about?”
I had no idea. “Just doesn’t make sense. You’re in this because you love weather, right? So why aren’t you out in it?”
“I’m a professor, for heaven’s sake, Archer,” she said. “Yes, atmospheric scientists need to do fieldwork all the time, but my grad students love doing it, and I don’t have a problem letting them.”
“Then why are they always asking you to go with them?”
“They’re not. Tess was exaggerating.” Kelsey shook her head. “Even if I wanted to go, I couldn’t. I mean, every now and then I could, but I could never take off for months at a time to travel with the Spiral Project. Even if I did secure funding again.”
“Does this have to do with tenure?”
“I need tenure to keep the Spiral Project alive,” she admitted. “If I don’t get it, I’m fired from King’s and have to look for another job. And the Spiral Project would die.”
“Why?”
“Because everyone will assume I was denied tenure because of the project,” she replied. “And no other university or agency will want to touch it with a ten-foot pole.”
She pushed some papers into a folder. “Anyway, I’ll know soon enough.”
“When?”
“A couple of weeks, I hope. The university board gave their recommendation to the chancellor, and now the final decision is up to him.”
“Save a day to celebrate with me.”
She arched an eyebrow. “And if there’s nothing to celebrate?”
“We’ll find something.”
Kelsey nudged me with her foot. “What if you’re gone by then?”
“I won’t be.” I grabbed her ankle under the table and ran my hand over the arch of her foot. “It’ll take me at least that long to own your body.”
Even though she rolled her eyes, a flush colored her cheeks.
“You do understand that I’m a well-regarded atmospheric scientist, right?’ she asked. “Not just a floozy who stares at men in bars and whose body you profess to own.”
“I understand, all right,” I said. “That’s exactly why I like you so much.”
Kelsey shook her head at me, her eyes bright with suppressed amusement. “Why? Because I’m a scientist or a floozy? Wait, don’t answer that.”
“Both.” I leaned closer to her. “And neither.”
“Neither?”
“Mostly I like you because you’re Kelsey.”
Her flush deepened. She tore her gaze from mine and started putting her papers in her briefcase. She snapped it shut and pushed back her chair.
“Mostly I like you because you’re Archer,” she said. “But the fact that you’re sexy as hell is a definite bonus.”
She reached out to tweak my nose before she turned and walked away.
Text Message:
ARCHER: What are you wearing?
KELSEY: A scowl.
ARCHER: You can’t be at work. It’s Sat afternoon.
KELSEY: I’m at the grocery store.
ARCHER: Why the scowl then?
KELSEY: They’re out of zucchini.
ARCHER: So get broccoli.
KELSEY: I wasn’t planning to eat it.
ARCHER: …
KELSEY: Hah. I was going to pickle it.
ARCHER: You pickle stuff?
KELSEY: No. I’m just screwing with you.
ARCHER: Soon you’ll just be screwing me.
KELSEY: Well, you are a tool.
ARCHER: Spanking alert. What’re you wearing?
KELSEY: Raincoat and stilettos. Nothing else.
ARCHER: Really?
KELSEY: Hah again. Jeans and a tee. What’s in the notebook?
ARCHER: My diary.
KELSEY: Diaries are for 12 year old girls, not dudes like you.
ARCHER: It’s a diary of my sex fantasies.
KELSEY: Like what?
ARCHER: Shocking, filthy, kinky fantasies.
KELSEY: Well, I would hope so.
ARCHER: Tell me one of yours.
KELSEY: No. I’m in the cereal aisle of the grocery store.
ARCHER: I’ll frost your flakes good, baby.
KELSEY: Hmm. Sounds promising.
ARCHER: You fantasize about outdoor sex?
KELSEY: Done that.
ARCHER: Tied-up sex? Handcuffs?
KELSEY: I think I’ve done that.
ARCHER: You don’t remember?
KELSEY: No. I guess it wasn’t very memorable.
ARCHER: You never fantasize about it either?
KELSEY: Not really.
ARCHER: Ah.
KELSEY: Ah what?
ARCHER: No control. That’d freak you out.
KELSEY: Nothing freaks me out. Except earwigs. They’re gross.
ARCHER: Focus. You ever think about sex with a woman?
KELSEY: Done that.
ARCHER: Yeah?
KELSEY: I liked girls for a couple of years in college.
ARCHER: I’m so fucking turned on right now.
KELSEY: Part of my wild past. But girls were complicated.
ARCHER: No kidding.
KELSEY: You ever been with two or more girls at once?
ARCHER: Yeah. It was hot.
KELSEY: I’ll bet. Oh, the granola is on sale.
ARCHER: Way to kill the mood.
KELSEY: I don’t like thinking about you with other women.
ARCHER: Good. I hate the idea of you with other men. Other women, though…
KELSEY: Don’t get too excited. Those days are long gone.
ARCHER: Good. You’re all mine anyway. Go home. Put on a raincoat and stilettos. Nothing else. Meet me at the Queen of Hearts at nine tonight.
KELSEY: No way.
ARCHER: Do it.
KELSEY: I can’t.
ARCHER: You will.
KELSEY: If I don’t?
ARCHER: No frosted flakes.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
KELSEY
HE WASN’T SERIOUS. I WASN’T GOING to do it. I couldn’t. No way.
Except that I was in my bedroom, standing naked in front of the mirror in four-inch strapped black stilettos, holding a tan raincoat.
“You are so screwed, Kelsey March,” I muttered to my reflection. “And I don’t mean that in a good way.”
My cell phone rang. My heart thumped.
“Hello?”
“You ready?” His voice was like dark, melted chocolate.
“No.”
“Half an hour. Be there.”
I tossed the phone on the bed. Last time I’d gone out with Archer to the Queen of Hearts, we’d run into one of my students. What if that happened again tonight? While I was naked under a raincoat?
What if I got stopped for speeding? What if the Queen of Hearts was having a “no coats allowed” night? What if I was in a fender bender and had to talk to another driver and a police officer? What if I saw someone get hurt and I had to whip off my raincoat to… I don’t know, stop the bleeding?
I was beginning to think that maybe my wild past wasn’t quite as wild as I’d always believed. Either that or I really had become an uptight stick-in-the-mud over the years.
That was a depressing thought.
With a sigh, I scrounged around in my closet and grabbed a stretchy blue dress that I hadn’t worn in ages. I tugged it on. It was way too tight, clinging to my hips and waist, and very clearly demonstrating that I wasn’t wearing a bra. I had to pull it down to make it reach mid-thigh.
Though my courage wavered again, I figured it was a decent compromise between Archer’s order and the fact that I wasn’t going to get out of the house unless I was somewhat clothed. I finished getting ready
and put my glasses on.
My anxiety ratcheted up higher as I drove to Rainwood and parked in the same lot Archer had the previous week. I couldn’t believe it had only been last week that we’d been here.
When I got out of the car, I felt a presence move from between two cars. Archer. He came toward me, breathtakingly handsome in jeans and a gray button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to expose his corded forearms. Shadows cut across his strong features, making him look faintly sinister.
“I thought we were meeting at the club,” I said, attributing my shivers to the cool spring air.
“I’d never let you walk alone at night.” His gaze raked over my buttoned, belted coat. “You follow orders?”
I figured he’d find out sooner or later, so I shook my head. “I have a dress on. But it’s really tight and clingy,” I added hopefully.
He frowned, crowding me up against the car. My breath caught. His gaze held mine as he untied the belt of my raincoat and worked the buttons. When the coat was open, he slipped his hands inside and ran them over my breasts and hips. The heat of his palms burned through the thin material.
Then… oh, god… he hooked his fingers under the hem and pulled it up far enough to touch my naked slit. A shudder racked me. He smiled, blocking me from view with his body as he ran his forefinger over my folds.
“It’ll do,” he murmured. “But you still disobeyed.”
“I’m not a dog, you freak.”
He chuckled. “No, you’re a cat in heat. Hissing and scratching.”
He slipped his finger into me. I gasped, curling my hands around his forearms. He lowered his head, and I caught a whiff of his delicious, clean male smell before he pressed his lips against mine. My body surged in anticipation of an open, possessive kiss, but this one was surprisingly gentle, almost chaste.
Which was a very odd contrast to the fact that he was still fingering my pussy.
“Let’s go.” Archer tugged his hand from between my legs and pulled the hem of my dress back over the tops of my thighs.
“We’re… we’re still going to the club?” I’d rather been hoping he’d whisk me off to a dark cave… or anywhere… and have his way with me. Like, right now.
“Sure, we’re still going.” He fastened my raincoat and tied the belt.
I bit back a protest. Archer put his hand on my lower back as we walked, our hips occasionally brushing against each other. I was already damp between my legs, and my lack of underwear heightened the friction.
When we entered the club, I realized I might have made a mistake. If I was naked under the coat, I could have left it on and remained fully covered. But with the dress…
Sure enough, Archer moved behind me to help me off with my coat. Now in a dress tight enough to be a second skin, I suddenly felt more than naked. Especially when the bouncer gave me the once-over.
Archer stepped in front of me, eyeing the guy with a caveman back-off look. The guy shrugged and pulled open the door.
Once we were inside, my tension eased a little. Lights flashed over the dance floor, but the tables were shadowed, and I thought I could lose myself in the noise and activity. A cover band was onstage, “We Are Young” thumping through the room. The lights spun over the couples gyrating on the dance floor.
Archer reached back to grab my hand as he navigated the crowd and tables. I saw nowhere to sit, but Archer scanned the crowd then spoke to the bartender. In a few minutes, a server gestured us toward an empty table at the edge of the dance floor.
I had to admit, as Archer guided me to the table, his ability to get what he wanted was pretty damn sexy. Maybe that was one of the reasons I was so willing to give him… me.
While he ordered drinks, I wiggled around in the chair, tugging my dress back over my thighs. Though I’d worn revealing clothes in the distant past, I’d always tended more toward the goth-chick look rather than outright sluttiness. And in the past ten years, I’d been all about tailored suits. Hiding the sexy underneath.
I shifted again, reaching for my drink. The lights were hot, the air compressed with the music and sounds of laughter and loud conversation. The bass line throbbed in my chest, my body humming with that urge to get up and move.
“Dance,” Archer said.
With a smile, I nodded and pushed my chair back, discreetly tugging my dress down before going to the crowded floor. I turned to face Archer, only to find that he was still sitting at the table. I lifted my hands and gave him a “what the hell?” look.
A smile curved his mouth. He took a drink of scotch and made a circling gesture with his forefinger.
I just stood there. It took a second for his command to penetrate my hazy brain. He didn’t want me to dance with him. He wanted me to dance for him.
Someone bumped into me from behind. I stared at Archer. Lights gleamed on his dark hair, over the hard lines of his face and his beautiful mouth that had done such hot things to my body. He was lounging back in the chair, his legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankle, all taut, male confidence.
My heart pounded. I wanted to climb on top of him right there and straddle his lap, hike my dress over my hips and…
He lifted an eyebrow. Imagine Dragons’ “Demons” came through the speakers. Blue-and-yellow lights drifted over the crowd. A couple passed in front of me, gripping hands as they came together, their lower bodies gyrating close.
A throb coursed into my blood. Archer and I locked gazes. An electric current sparked through the air. This was a direct challenge. I wasn’t going to let him win.
I started to move. I let the music fire through me, felt the beat pulsating in my core. I twisted, turned, spun. My dress rode up my thighs as I swiveled my hips, turning to shake my ass at Archer… hah, take that… then around again to face him.
Without a bra, my breasts bounced beneath the stretchy fabric, my nipples pressing against the thin material. I slid my hands down my torso, the heat of my own skin burning through the dress, around to the slopes of my rear.
The crowd swelled around me like a wave. My hair clung to my neck, damp and hot, the music and noise filling my ears. His eyes burned through the dim light like twin candle flames. The dress inched up higher with every twist of my hips, and when I reached to pull it down again, Archer shook his head.
My breath stuttered. I fumbled, grasping the hem with both hands, my pulse throbbing. He shook his head again, his gaze steely.
We stared each other down like jungle animals. He won.
I released the hem of my dress and moved back, slowly swaying to the beat again. I was hot and slippery between my legs, and he knew it. My dress hiked up farther. I tried not to wince as a rush of air brushed against the lower curve of my ass. A couple more inches and…
Someone bumped into me. Startled, I jerked away and turned to face the stocky, handsome blond man who had come up behind me. He lifted his eyebrows in an unspoken question.
I started to shake my head at him, certain Archer would intervene. Then I glanced over my shoulder and found him still sitting at the table, unmoving, his hooded gaze fixed on me and the other man.
Hah.
I turned back to the guy. He smiled. We started to dance, his body moving in rhythm with mine, a space clearing around us like the expanding circles of a pebble tossed into a lake. I closed my eyes and let heat wash over me. Music and noise drove everything else out.
My dress rode higher, the pulse between my legs getting stronger with every circling of my hips. Arousal shot to my core each time my hard nipples chafed the material of my dress. A faint dizziness wound through my head. I felt the guy looking at my breasts, his eyes hot, and I knew he wanted to—
Two large, male hands grabbed my hips from behind, pulling me backward. I came up hard against Archer’s body, my ass hitting his thighs as he slid his hands around to my front and flattened his palms against m
y torso in an unmistakable show of possession.
The other man didn’t even try to protest. He took one look at Archer, held his hands up in defeat, and turned to disappear into the crowd.
All the breath escaped my lungs. Archer’s hot, hard body pressed against my back. Arousal flooded me. For an instant, we just stood there, his grip holding me in place, my heart racing wildly. Then he moved and the ridge of his erection pressed against the upper curve of my ass.
I moaned. Aloud. I reached back, desperate for something, anything, to hold on to. I curled my fingers against his hips as he lowered his head to press his lips on the side of my neck. The room tilted off balance, the lights spinning. His thick hair brushed my damp skin.
He slid his hands down the front of my body, his fingers brushing the hem of my dress and the bare skin of my thighs. Shivers rained through me. He moved again, shifting his hips, guiding my body to the beat of the music. I felt him against my lower back, the top curve of my rear, his chest a solid wall of muscle. His breath was hot on my neck, his lips still against the pulse beating wildly under my skin.
I tightened my grip on his thighs and writhed my hips, rubbing my ass against him, aching to feel him pull my dress up and slip his hand between my legs. Dizziness washed over me.
I didn’t care that we were standing in the middle of a crowded dance floor, didn’t care who was watching, didn’t care about anything except the sensation of Archer pressed against me, holding me to him, his lips on my neck, enveloping me with all his male possessiveness.
And then, oh god, my dress rode up even higher, and my bare ass was against his groin, his jeans abrading my skin, his cock so hard I could almost feel it throbbing through the denim. He pushed closer, sealing our bodies together so my nakedness was concealed from view. I squeezed my thighs. Sweat collected between my breasts. My clit throbbed.
I shifted, rubbing my ass against him. It was so good, the rough fabric against my naked skin, his hands cupping my thighs and holding my body against his, his lips sliding from my neck to my shoulder in a sweeping, unbroken line. Lust unfurled inside me like a ribbon.
A rough noise rumbled through Archer’s chest. His hands flexed on my thighs. He moved enough to edge his hand between us and tug my dress back over my rear, but not before running one finger swiftly down the crevice between my cheeks. Shock and heat bolted through me so violently that I stumbled.