“You brought me to the edge and then didn’t let me tip over it,” she hisses.
Oh. Right. That. And yeah, I totally got off on it. The ride back from the excursion was torture for me, too. I wanted to pull my cock out and impale her with it.
“People were coming back to the bus. I didn’t do it because I hate you. I don’t hate you at all. I hate that you use very public platforms for the brand you’re building, and I hate that my first instinct is to run the other way. I like you, Millie. But I don’t easily open up to anybody, and it’s certainly not going to be someone who wants to make a living by going viral when I’m trying to protect my privacy.”
“Archer, come on. My career and you are two separate entities. You have to know that.”
“I don’t know that because I don’t knowyou.”I press my lips together, and before she can respond, there’s a knock at the door.
“That’ll be medical,” I mutter. I give her one last look before I head to the door and open it.
“Hello, I’m Jenny, the nurse on call today. I heard there was a little accident?” she says, and I let her in.
I sit in that same chair across the room as I watch Jenny examine Millie, and I find that Icareabout the outcome here. There are stakes involved.
I hardly know Millie, and I should run.
But maybe she’s right.
She’s offering herself up for me to use as my escape while I’m here. I’m only a man. How the hell am I supposed to say no to that when all I’ve wanted since our night together is to have another one? And as long as she keeps the cameras off when she’s around me, maybe we can come up with some sort of agreement.
And maybe I can finish the job I started back on the bus.
CHAPTER 18: Millie Monroe
A Sex Agreement
Jenny finishes wrapping my ankle. “Ice it every two to three hours for fifteen minutes for the next forty-eight hours. It needs to rest, so keep it elevated and wrapped when you’re not icing. If you can’t bear weight or it feels worse tomorrow, let us know, but otherwise we’ll check in on you in a couple days.” She helps me so I’m resting in a comfortable position across the couch, my foot propped up on a pillow.
“Thank you,” I say quietly. She gives me some other instructions about ibuprofen that I’m half-listening to, and I let out a sigh of frustration, and tears fill my eyes as Archer walks her out.
“Can I get you anything?” he asks once he closes the door behind her.
“A fixed ankle?”
“It’ll only keep you down for the next couple days, and if I know you at all, you’re not going to let it stop you anyway.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Didn’t you just say youdon’tknow me?”
“I don’t.” He sighs, and it’s deep and heavy. “And I’m not great at letting people get to know me, either.” The words feel heavy between us, but there’s an edge of desperation to them that makes me feel like hewantsto let me in. But what good would that do when we’re just going to go our separate ways once this month ends?
“I’m not asking you to let me in,” I say softly, not bringing up the fact thathe didstart to let me in on the bus earlier. He just doesn’t realize it. But he told me about the suspension, his ex, and a bit about his father.
It was a lot to take in, but from what I can tell, he’s incredibly hard on himself. He’s put up a lot of walls of protection, and I want to scale them.
His eyes flick up to meet mine, and I push the envelope as hard as I can.
“Look, nobody in their twenties is walking around without baggage, particularly not two single people traveling solo for an entire month to a Bahamian resort. What if we both just…I don’t know…leave our baggage packed and use what time we have to our advantage?”
He twists his lips as if he’s considering it, so I plow forward.
“We both came here for an escape, though very different ones, so what if we just, you know…find comfort in each other while we’re here? Certainly we can come to some sort of agreement. Like, I promise not to feature anything other than those fine calves of yours on my socials, and I promise never to mention your name, and you promise to give me twelve orgasms by the time Jenny calls to check on my ankle.”
A smile hints at his lips. “Twelve?”
“You can start by finishing the one you started on the bus,” I say pointedly.
“So you’re proposing a sex agreement?” he asks.
