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All the blood in my head went straight to my rising cock.
He dropped his gaze to take a greedy look. He wanted me. That much was obvious.
“Looks like you remember,” he said, as a spark of heat appeared in his eyes.
“I… Did we… Did you…?”
He arched a brow. “Did I what?”
Fuck, he wanted me to say it. But I didn’t have whatever liquid courage I’d downed last night, and the words tripped on my tongue.
Just say it. He wants you to.
“You ordered me to come,” I finally said.
“Hmm.” He took a sip of his coffee. “And you did so. Beautifully. All over my hand.”
My eyes almost popped out of my head. “All over your…Fuck.”
His mouth quirked over the edge of his mug. “We didn’t get that far.”
No shit, because there was no way, even as drunk as I was, I would’ve forgottenthat.
My mouth had gone dry, and I took a long drink before summoning up what I needed to ask. It would’ve been an unhinged question a day ago, but considering what I’d woken up to, maybe it wasn’t that crazy.
“But you”—I stopped and wet my lips—“want to?”
Oh my God, I’d just asked Mr. Carrington if he wanted to fuck me. I’d imagined it hundreds of times, and now I’d just put it out there.
Then again, I’d come all over his hand last night. That was so depraved that I was ready to combust again right here and now.
He set his mug aside, and I forgot all about the pounding in my head or the way my body physically ached. It was an altogether different kind of ache that overtook me now. The top of my ass hit the counter as he backed me up against it, and I left my coffee there before gripping the edge of the marble.
He didn’t have to touch me for me to feel him everywhere, and his voice was a sexy caress when he said, “I want a lot of things. It’s just a matter of whether I should take them.”
“Like what?” I pushed, not knowing when I’d get another chance like this. I wanted him to spell it out. To reassure me I wasn’t the only one putting himself out there. That he was finally on the same page, or willing to be.
“To start with, I’d like to hear you say my name. Myfirstname.”
A frown creased my forehead. “I didn’t say it last night?”
“You did.” Mr. Carrington lowered his gaze to my lips. “But I want you to say it…sober.”
If he was worried I was about to tell him this was all some kind of drunken mistake, he had nothing to worry about. I was more than happy to say his name.
“Archer.”
Mr. Carr—Archer’s—eyes darkened as though I’d flicked some kind of switch, and he braced a hand on the counter beside me and leaned in until a breeze would’ve had trouble getting between us.
“You’re right,” he said in a voice that vibrated through me. “I have wanted to hear you say that. I just didn’t know how much until you shouted it last night.”
“Touch me right now and I’ll shout it all over again.”
“From just a touch?”
I craned forward, trying to capture his mouth, but he backed up.
“Uh uh, we have things to discuss before that.”
