Finding the strength, I push up off the door and make quick work of turning on the shower before I let the sheet fall away.
My reflection catches my attention, making it impossible to ignore as I stare at myself.
It’s not the first time I’ve had sex, but it’s the first time I was able to take a moment to breathe afterward. Last time resulted in death, and although it’s not quite as dramatic this time, it still rocks me to my core.
I look the same, but I don’t feel the same. Nothing drastic, just more… me?
I roll my eyes. That’s impossible if I don’t know who I am. It’s at the top of my list to find myself, broken down into micro actions set out by Greta and the twins.
This might not be it, but it sure feels like I’ve taken a step in the right direction. Besides, the talk with the girls last night has ensured I know it’s okay to make mistakes, as long as I come back stronger.
Before I can scrutinize myself any further, I step under the spray of water, relishing in the way my muscles ease under the pressure. Tilting my face up, I let the sensation ground me as I inevitably reflect on last night.
The heat was undeniable, waking me in the dead of night, burning me deep inside. It was torture, until it wasn’t.
Coming on his tongue was euphoric, but all it did was intensify the inferno inside me. It wasn’t until I felt the thickness of his cock fill me that I felt any sense of relief.
Falling into the rhythm of my routine, I wring my hair out before shutting the shower off. Draping a towel around me, I secure the fluffy material around my chest before focusing on my selfcare.
With a minty essence in my mouth and the gentle scent of vanilla in the air, I step out of the bathroom, coated in steam, to reveal a figure sitting on my bed.
Archer sits with his elbows resting on his knees, freshly showered, his hair damp, wearing a pair of suit pants and a white shirt. His deep-red tie sits crooked around his neck. Noticing my arrival, he presses his palms against his knees, sitting tall as he assesses me.
Clearing my throat, I grip the twist of my towel. “I thought you left.”
My heart thunders in my chest, the sound rattling between my ears as I stare at him, balancing on the edge of sanity as my thoughts drift.
“I did,” he breathes, and I nod, tension rising as I rake my teeth over my bottom lip.
“I didn’t anticipate you coming back,” I admit, and he nods.
“Honestly, neither did I.” His eyes fixate on mine, rooting me to the spot as he slowly stands. “Don’t worry, I’m not staying, I have matters to attend to,” he explains, sweeping his hands down the length of him, referring to his choice of clothing, and I nod, fighting against the burning desire to ask what matters he’s referring to.
He eliminates the distance between us with ease, brushing a damp curl behind my ear as he exhales. I can sense him wanting to say something, but what, I can’t figure out.
Neither can he, it seems, as he continues to stare at me, clearing his throat twice before he finally finds his tongue.
“I underestimated you, Ivy.”
I scoff, but the solemn look on his face ties my stomach in a knot before I can give him crap for stating the obvious.
“Fuck, I did more than underestimate you; I judged you without knowing a single thing about you. I assumed I was protecting everyone, and I thought I understood the situation, but the reality is…” He cups my cheek, tilting my face to somehow stare even deeper into my eyes. “I was catastrophically wrong.”
I gape at him as he exhales, a sad smile curling the corner of his mouth.
“Archer—”
He presses his thumb against my mouth. “Please, let me get this out.” He drags a hand down his face. “You deserve the apology of legends, something greater than I’ll ever be able to provide, but you better believe that I will try again, and again, and again. Not just with words, but actions. You owe me nothing; not friendship, not affection, and definitely not forgiveness. I was wrong. I’m still wrong. I thought I was doing it for your own good.” He scoffs, shaking his head as if the words sound dumb to him now. “There’s no justifying this shit, me, or anything that goes through my head. Giving you what you need means giving you a piece of me I haven’t found yet. I shouldn’t even ask for patience, I don’t deserve it, but fuck knows I won’t get this right the first time.”
His lips brush against my forehead, overwhelming me with an intimacy that threatens to floor me.
A knock comes from the door, cutting through the tension, but it does nothing to calm my racing heart.
“My replacement has arrived.”
“And if I don’t want a replacement? If I want to be alone?”
He snickers. “Good luck with that.” He takes a step back, staring at me for a moment before he exhales. “Before I leave, are you ready to call Francesca in?”
