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“Why wouldn’t it? You’re just a little bird, desperate to use her wings to fly away from her past.” His words shoot right through me, hitting far too close to home for comfort. “Why change it?”
I don’t answer. I’m not going to, and he probably knows that. Hell, he’s probably guessed that I don’t want to be associated with the actions I had to take to survive as a young woman, but I don’t dare offer that information.
Instead, I stand from my spot, unfolding myself from the sofa and looking down at him. I soften my face to play the part I need, and Archer leans back with a raised brow, interest gleaming in his eyes.
“What exactly do you think you’re doing, little bird?” he asks, but the question is like a caress washing over my skin.
“You know,” I begin, taking a gentle step forward, and another, swaying my hips with the movement. The heavy dress moves around my thighs, and I know it makes me look good—that’s why I chose the dress in the first place. Even if it’s dirty now and not as pristine, it’s still a glorious dress I’ll try to save once I’m out of this mess. “I’ve been awfully bored in this house. The TV can only entertain me for so long.”
“Hmm,” he answers, the corner of his lips kicking up in a knowing, wicked grin as I take another step forward. “That does seem like such a shame. You’ll have to think of something to entertain yourself with.”
I lick my lips, pleased when his eyes follow the gesture. “I can think of something,” I purr, moving closer until I’m standing right in front of him.
Archer leans back in the armchair with his head tipped back so he can look up at me, his legs splayed wide. Even in this position, even below me, he looks like a king waiting to be served. I’m tempted to knock him down a peg, but for my plan to work, I need to treat him like the king he thinks he is.
His bright eyes flash below me, but he doesn’t reach out, waiting to see what I’ll do. Luckily for him, I’m not shy.
Without waiting for an invitation, I grasp his shoulder and straddle his lap, settling my knees on either side of his thighs. My dress pools around me on his lap, the high split making the position easier. His strong hands go immediately to my hips. He doesn’t grope or squeeze, he only rests them there.
“An interesting choice of pastime,” he comments, seemingly bored and unaffected, while most men would be begging about now
“I thought so too.” My voice is definitely husky now, and all the desire I tried to hide earlier is currently there for him to hear. When I grind down on his lap, his eyes grow hooded with his own desire. Almost instantly, I feel his cock press against me through his slacks, as if he finally gave himself permission to be turned on.
His phone sits on the arm beside me, near my elbow. It’s so close, but it’s too soon to reach for it. I need him to be completely distracted.
“Is your plan to make me fall in love with you, little bird?” he asks when I thread my fingers into his hair and stroke his neck.
“What if it was?” I tease, grinding down again. “It would only be fair.”
“It won’t work.”
“No?” I raise my brow in challenge and lean closer, until my breath fans across his face. “And why not?”
His eyes flash. “You have to have a heart to fall in love.” His fingers tighten on my hips and press me down harder, drawing a tiny moan from my lips. I don’t even have to fake it. Christ, maybe this wasn’t the best idea. “Do you sing as prettily as you look, little bird?”
“Why don’t you find out?” I goad, then I press my lips against his.
If I thought I was going to control the kiss, I was severely mistaken. The moment I touch my lips to his, Archer’s fingers spear into my hair and clench down, holding me in place as he consumes me.
This is no gentle kiss, no delicate touching of lips. It’s a battle of domination, our tongues tangling and fighting for the upper hand. It’s the best damn kiss I’ve ever had, and I’m peeved to realise it really is the bad boys who do it best. With his hard cock pressing against me, his fingers holding me in place, and the rough sweep of his tongue, I almost forget what I’m supposed to be doing here.
Almost.
I slide my hand down his shoulder, then his arm, moving slowly, like a caress, hoping he won’t notice as he literally rocks my world. I have to pause on his forearm, the wetness between my thighs nearly enough to make me say fuck it and literally fuck him right here. Any of the others can walk in, but it would be so easy to unzip his trousers, slide my panties to the side, and lower myself on his cock. The temptation rocks me so hard as we kiss, it takes a full minute to make my hand move again.
I moan softly as his other hand tightens painfully on my hip and grinds me down against him. Fuck, this is good.
My fingers leave his arm and rest on the side of the chair, sitting there for a moment like I’m bracing myself, and then slowly—oh so slowly—I start to slide it back. His hand leaves my hair to sweep down my exposed back, dragging trails of fire in their wake until my back arches. My palm touches the cell phone, covers it, then holds it, even as I continue to kiss him.
Just as I close my hand, strong fingers wrap around mine and squeeze painfully. I go to break the kiss, but his hand clenches in my hair again, holding me hostage against his lips.
He releases a soft chuckle, and my eyes flick open to see he’s already watching me. “Bad girl,Genevieve,” he whispers against my lips, making my chosen name sound like a mockery. “And here I thought we could trust you.”
I snarl against him and shove backward, surprised when he lets me go and I nearly tumble from his lap. I’m completely wet from his touch and kiss, and my hair is a mess around my shoulders from where he handled it. I’m angry and embarrassed. At least I’m not the only one. As I watch, Archer adjusts himself in his slacks, and the usually perfectly put together man appears a little more rumpled.
“Why won’t you just let me go?” I snarl.
“Not yet,” he purrs. “Care to tell me why you changed your name now?”
“I hate you,” I spit out.
His eyes trail teasingly down my body. “Really now? Because the way you were rocking on my cock didn’t feel like hate.” His tongue traces along his teeth. “How about you tell me what happened the night we took you?”
“Fuck off.” I move over to the sofa and drop myself back onto it, focusing on the TV. “Fucking asshole.”
My only answer is a grin before Archer picks up his laptop again and continues his work as if nothing happened at all. The cell phone, my apple, sits there the rest of the time, mocking me.
I guess the snake always wins.
