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Archer left the kitchen, and I followed, leaning against the doorframe to watch him walk down the hall to the front entrance.
“So that means there’ll be a next time?” I said as he reached for the front door.
He stopped and glanced back, his scorching gaze traveling over me, making my heart pound in time to my pulsing dick.
“Well, I can’t exactly avoid you. You’re dating my daughter. Have a good day, Preston.”
NINE
preston
TO SAY I was in a daze would be an understatement. The fact that I was even referring to Archer now as…well, Archer, and not Mr. Carrington, was a mind trip in and of itself, and so was the way I’d shown up on his doorstep in the first place. I was starting to fill in some of the blanks from last night, but even those details didn’t matter much. Not when I remembered the way Archer had ordered me to come, that he’d watched me with the same hunger I felt for him. The same thing he’d shown this morning when he asked me to say his name. When he’d basically admitted he wanted to fuck me but that he shouldn’t want to.
When he said he’d think about it…
I didn’t bother hiding my smile, since Archer was already off to work, and I was currently sitting alone on the stoop of his brownstone waiting for the taxi I’d requested. There’d been no point calling the driver I shared with the guys, Scotty, since he would be taking everyone to Astor right about now. There was no way I wanted any of them getting wind of where I was and what I’d been doing. They probably all figured I was still sleeping off my hangover, and that was exactly what I wanted them to assume.
I stood up, brushing off the back of my pants as the taxi made its way down the street. My breaths came out in warm puffs of air, and even though I’d put my sweater on over my long-sleeved shirt, it was still freezing.
“Waldorf Towers, East Fiftieth and Park,” I said once I’d slid into the back seat.
As the row of picturesque brownstones began to fly by, I thought back to those texts from last night, the way they’d set me off and had me doing things I’d never normally do.
What the hell had I been thinking? I hadn’t been, at least not clearly. As much as I wanted to blame East for indulging me, it was my fault, and honestly, probably a good thing. I wasn’t sure I would’ve had the guts to put it all out there for Archer if I hadn’t had way too much liquid courage running through my veins.
Although by “putting it out there,” I hadn’t meant my dick.
I couldn’t help the smile that wanted to break free, because holy shit. Now that the gaps in my night were filling in, I couldn’t believe how fucking ballsy I’d been. I’d gotten myself off in front of Archer to show him how much I wanted him… Who did that? Not me. Only Preston-on-psychotic-shots me.
Anyone else would’ve called the cops on my ass, but Archer did something entirely unexpected—he got involved. Issued me a challenge. And then let mecome all over his hand.God, I wished I could remember it in more vivid detail. Wished that my head hadn’t been pounding so bad this morning, so I could’ve had a redo.
But…there would be a next time, right? Archer had been giving all kinds of mixed messages this morning. Even after trying to push me away last night with his texts, he didn’t seem all that intent on following through—giving me all the reasons why we couldn’t and shouldn’t try anything, but then telling me he’d let me check his body for the tattoo I thought I remembered him having…
He wasn’t saying no to me. Not at all.
But he was right. Thatdidmake things complicated. Especially when Serena’s face popped into my mind. I didn’t keep shit from her, and this was the kind of thing that could break a friendship.
I couldn’t lose her. She was my best friend.
She’d understand.
Right?
I needed to talk to her. I needed to come clean about the charity event, telling her dad to ask her about us, last night, and everything I was feeling… But she’d be heading to class?—
No, wait. It was Tuesday. She’d be at her internship this morning in the Fashion District.
“Actually, change of plans,” I said to the driver. “I need to go to Thirty-Eighth and Seventh.”
His annoyed gaze met mine in the rearview mirror. “You sure about that?”
Was I? I’d be potentially fucking things up, but she deserved to know. We’d promised each other that much.
“Final answer,” I told the driver, and he nodded once before pulling into the turn lane that was backed up beyond belief.
Not wanting to sit there for an hour, I said, “It might be quicker to take Eleventh down to?—”
“You wanna drive?”
