“This isn’t a booty call, remember?”
He tilted his head, clearly taking in her flushed face, her crazy breathing, and then there was the fact that her nipples were poking against the material of her wet clothes like two heat-seeking missiles, which he could clearly see because his jacket was slipping off her shoulders. She tightened it around herself.
He didn’t make a smartass comment. Instead he shocked her when he said, “At the moment, Elle, I’d get down on my knees and beg.”
This revealing statement knocked her for such a loop that she was still staring at him when Eddie poked his head into the alley. “Hey, dude. Dudette. Listen, far be it for me to interrupt a melding of the minds and all but I’d like to come through here and—” He caught Archer’s expression and backtracked. “Actually, you know what? You two take your time.”
When he was gone, Elle touched a hand to her mouth and stared at Archer. “That was not on my agenda,” she said. “You’re not on my agenda.”
His eyes were dark and unfathomable. “Ditto. Tonight was just an overreaction to an emotional evening.”
She stared at him some more and then stepped back, her heart thundering in disappointment now. She shrugged out of his jacket, thrust it at him, and then turned and left the alley, only to hear Eddie murmur “Don’t take it personally, son. Women are born crazy.”
Hard to be insulted by the truth, she thought as she strode across the courtyard through the driving rain, not even feeling the chill as her blouse and skirt stuck to her like a second skin. She took the elevator, heading to her office simply because she needed a moment alone. An immediate moment alone. She’d gotten her key in the lock when she felt the air pressure change as someone came up behind her.
Didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out who. “Overreaction to an emotional evening?” she repeated in angry astonishment, not turning to face him. “Seriously?”
“I was wrong.”
“Maybe I should get that in writing, you admitting you’re wrong. It’s like seeing a unicorn and I need to capture the moment.”
A tanned, sinewy arm encircled her, taking over unlocking the door. Then he nudged her inside, flicked on the lights, kicked the door closed, and pushed her up against it. He was big, hard, and drenched.
“You know what?” she asked, proud of her steady voice in spite of her trembling legs. “I’m going to have to pass on the caveman act—”
His mouth came down on hers, fusing their lips in a hot, searing kiss that she felt from the tips of her frozen toes to the ends of her wet hair and every single inch in between. Huh. Turned out she’d been wrong too, very wrong to think she could resist this with him.
Lightning flashed, followed immediately by a boom of thunder. Her office lights flickered once, twice. An electric surge, she thought dizzily, the scent of rain and sexy Archer making her press into him.
“I want you, Elle,” he said, voice low and rough. “It’s a goddamn ache, I want you so much. Just like this, dripping wet in every way, blind with need.”
“Yes.” Mindless at this point, she shoved up his wet shirt. He tore it off over his head and then unbuttoned her blouse and spread it open, a low, muttered oath on his lips as the lights flashed out again.
And stayed out this time.
In the far back recesses of her mind, she told herself to stop, that she was going to get hurt, but the part of her in control didn’t care. He needed her. And she sure as hell needed him. His fingers wrapped around hers and he gave a tug. She had to hand it to him, he knew her office as well as she did because in the next beat she was free-falling onto her small, narrow love seat, followed down by a hundred and eighty pounds of highly sexually motivated male.
The love seat, built for show rather than actual use, complained with a splintering crack and then collapsed beneath them.
They hit the floor. She saw a brief flash of Archer’s white teeth as he smiled his badass smile in the dark and then rolled, pinning her beneath him, her hands caught in his above her head.
“Your arm,” she gasped.
“Worth the pain.” His kiss was hot and deep and she almost lost herself in him.
Almost.
She fought the dregs of passion because no way was she going to be passive, not when for the first time in far too long she felt . . . alive, from the tips of her hair to her toes, which were already curling. Yanking her hands from his grasp, she placed them on his chest, unable to see much of anything but needing to touch, slowly sliding them up and around his neck, pulling him down to meet her lips. “More,” she demanded and skimmed a hand down his bare, sleek back and into his trousers. When she then slid that hand around to his front and brushed against a very hard erection threatening his zipper, he growled her name low in his throat, sounding gratifyingly breathless. He had his hands up the back of her dress, each palming a cheek, his fingers dipping in between, and when he discovered how wet he’d made her, he groaned.
She clutched at him, already halfway gone. “Archer—”
“I know. Christ, Elle. You feel amazing.”
“Now.” She didn’t even recognize her voice. “Right now.”
“My office.” His voice was rough gravel, like he could barely speak. “My couch is bigger and not in pieces on the floor.”
“No, here. Please . . .”
His low laugh was sexy as hell, damn him. He knew exactly what he did to her. “I do like the please,” he murmured. “More of that.”
“Archer, I swear to God if you don’t do me now, I’m going to hurt you.”
“Mmmm. Bossy too.” His mouth was busy at her breasts, her bra tugged open, his teeth and tongue driving her wild. “You’re a fantasy come true, Elle.” His voice was thick with erotic promise, his hands following through on that promise, his fingers especially taking her straight to heaven. “And we’re going to get there. But not with you on your back on this floor.”
“No?”
“No.”
She made an unintelligible sound of objection and he soothed her with a hot kiss before pulling back and tugging her up to her knees. Then he turned her away from him and slid his hand down her back, encouraging her to bend over the coffee table.
Before she could suggest that he bend over the table and they’d see if he liked it, his fingers were back in play between her thighs and she couldn’t remember why she’d wanted to object.
He draped himself over her in a protective shell, his chest plastered along her back, his legs encasing hers, one arm around her middle, palming a breast, the other between her legs, those fingers slowly but surely driving her right out of her ever loving mind. His mouth was just as busy, his teeth teasing the side of her throat, her jaw. “Good?” he murmured.