Page 91 of Loving at 40

We make out for several minutes, taking our time without interruption like earlier, but it’s not enough.

“Inside,” I demand, reaching for the handle on my door and slipping into the cold night. Jenna scrambles after me, climbing out on my side, and I press her against the side of the truck for another minute of rushed kisses. Her mouth is made for mine, and she shivers under me. “It’s fucking freezing out here, baby, and there’s someplace warmer I want to be.”

Jenna takes my hand and leads me inside the house. Somehow, she finds composure to thank her high school student for babysitting, pay her, and then wait on the girl to reverse out of the driveway. In that time, I’ve turned off all the downstairs lights and cooled a little, so when Jenna takes my hand and leads me to the base of the stairs, I hesitate.

“You okay with this?” I pause, holding her fingers. “Because as I told you before, ’Locks, I’m not pretending. I’m not hiding. I showed up at your work and at that fundraiser with an ulterior motive. I want to be seen. By you. By your friends. I’m here. For you.”

She stares back at me.

“I want this, Archer. I want you.” She reaches for my other hand and lifts it to her chest. My palm covers the dark purple silk of her dress, and her heart races beneath the smooth material. “You’re already in my heart, and you have been since last summer. When I saw how you were with my girls. When I see you watching me. I’ll protect your heart as long as you promise to protect mine. Don’t hurt me again.”

“Never,” I groan, moving up a few steps. “I can’t promise I won’t fuck up. With you. With the girls. But you can teach me.” My voice deepens. “You can show me how to love, and I promise I’ll do it in return.”

She’s a step above me, but she leans down and kisses me, soft and slow. Her tongue sneaks out to meet mine, but still, it’s a dance of drags and drops, drawing out the kiss. Her lips suck at mine, taking the lower one between hers before she pulls back.

“Come to bed with me, Archer,” she says in that sultry way she’d asked me last summer. A way that pleasantly haunted me until I could get here, to this point when I was going to make love to her again.

She leads me up the stairs, guiding me to her room, where I know I’ll never be the man I was.

She’s my chance to be a better man.

36

[Jenna]

I do a quick check on the girls, and Archer follows me, wrapping his arms around my waist as I close their door. His mouth meets my neck, and we struggle to my room like a three-legged team. Once inside, I hardly have the door closed before he has me pressed against it. His hands find the strings tying my dress at my hip, and with one long pull, they release, and the material slips open. Archer leans back and tugs the fabric wider, exposing more of me. I’m wearing a lacy black bra and matching panty set.

“Tell me you did not wear that for him,” he growls.

“I did not wear this for him.” I hadn’t actually. It was just nice to dress up and feel pretty, but the dressing up backfired when Archer gave me that smoldering look earlier, and my underwear instantly dampened under his gaze. The struggle between my thighs tonight has been real. First, he opens up to me about his past, and then he opens even wider, spilling out his heart.

“I want to fuck you just like this but not tonight. Tonight, I’m reacquainting myself with this body. Taking my time to rediscover every inch of you.” His palm flattens over my racing heart, and he closes his eyes a moment, absorbing the rhythm.

He’s alive. I’m alive.

It’s time to start living with this man. As my breaths come sharp and fast, his hand lowers to a breast, and he squeezes. The pressure instantly has me groaning and tipping my head back to the door. I arch forward, forcing myself into his palm, and his mouth comes to my neck. He scrapes his teeth in a teasing manner against my skin. My flesh pebbles, and a shiver ripples down my spine. My entire body trembles.

“Cold?” Archer teases, nipping me again and plucking at my nipple, which is peaked against the lacy bra. I squeak at the pinch, and his mouth opens, his suction on my skin more aggressive. My knees buckle, and Archer hastily brushes my dress aside, forcing the material to slip over my shoulders and fall to the floor. He pulls back without allowing much space between us and gazes down at my body. Lowering his hand down my middle, he hums in appreciation.

“I meant what I said earlier. You’re stunning, ’Locks.” His palm skims over my belly and between my legs, where he cups me over the lacy scrap. He stares where his hand covers me before his mouth returns to mine. He’s everywhere at once. Tongue invading my mouth. Fingertips rushing into me. A deep groan from me floods the room.

“I’ve missed you,” I whimper.

“Missed you so much, ’Locks.” He continues to kiss me, dragging those fingers in and out of me. “You are it for me. You’re the one for me every morning and every night, filling my dreams and my bed and my heart.”

“Archer.” My moan is like a plea and a prayer.

“Kissing you.” He kisses me again. “I can’t get enough of your mouth.” Quickly, his fingers leave me, and he turns me to the bed. Walking me backward, he returns his mouth to mine, and he kisses me like I’m all he’ll ever need.

Eventually, the back of my knees hit the bed, and I bend. Archer lowers before me as I sit on the edge of the mattress.

“I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” I say, noting his wince as he drops to his knees.

“Only thing that will hurt is being separated from you again.” Instantly, his mouth is back on mine, distracting me. His fingers find the edge of my thong, and I shift, allowing him to remove it while he kisses me.

“Spread,” he whispers, guiding my legs apart and glancing down at where I’m weeping for him. Lowering his mouth, he dives forward like a man on a mission. More teasing teeth. A twirling tongue. Two fingers again. I’m writhing against him, and his eyes lift when I comb my fingers through his hair.

It’s powerful to see this man between my thighs, and I feel like a goddess as he worships me with his mouth. When I finally break, my knees clutch at his shoulders, which keep me spread wide. After a final lap at my seam, he pulls back and kisses my inner thigh. With effort, he stands, and my brow pinches at the pain that briefly crosses his face. I open my mouth to speak, but then he tugs his shirt over his head, and I lose all train of thought. Archer’s chest was bare of tattoos. Only his upper arms and back hold ink, but I find something new over his left pec.