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Despite the close quarters, Archer spun around to shut the door and dropped his tote behind it. He bent to take his braces off, then stopped, one Velcro unfastened. Brielle wondered if she should offer to help—wondered if he’d had more plans for them where he might have needed to walk, then realized she didn’t even know when he needed the braces since she’d seen him walking a bit even without them.
Her heart was hammering.Stop overthinking everything. This doesn’t have to mean anything. He’s not even your client anymore. Just go for it!Her legs felt like lead.
Archer spun around slowly, his one pant leg shifted up, his brace sticking up a little awkwardly where it wasn’t fastened. “Do you think—”
But Brielle didn’t hear what else he had to say. She launched herself forward, bending over to touch her lips to his. It felt awkward and her back strained, but she held the position anyway, softly taking his top lip between hers and letting go. She pulled back, not even remembering when she’d put her hands behind his head, running her fingers through that hair she’d wanted to fondle days ago. She felt something straining in her from her shoulders to her legs, but she didn’t want to move as she stared into his eyes. There was a light in those eyes, a hunger.
“You’re shaking,” he whispered, and after a minute she realized she literally was. Shaking out of nervousness, out of desire.
But she really was in an awkward position.
He tore his eyes away and put his arms behind her back, pulling her closer, practically inviting her to crawl onto his lap.
So she did. The laughter that escaped her lips was quivering, both because she felt stupid but also because she knew she was trying to be sexy and it was a little hard to be as she kept shifting her legs around, trying to figure out how to sit in the tight quarters without crushing him. She settled for sitting on her calves.
“Here,” he said, taking first one calf and then the other and sliding them on either side of his thighs. Her legs were flush against the sides of the seat of the wheelchair, but she really didn’t mind. She just kept focusing on the feel of his hands on her legs, and how she wished she’d tossed her jeans off before she’d even launched herself at him.
He looked up at her and this time, he strained upward, pushing his lips against hers. Gently, hesitating at first. Then she slipped her hands back through his hair and leaned forward, pushing into the kiss. Each kiss lasted longer than the one before, each moment until she had to come up for air a precious one she didn’t want to let go. She kept kissing him and kissing him, her lips moving to the slight stubble on his cheeks, a jolt of excitement running down her torso to her toes at the rough texture beneath her lips. She was hot,burningeven.
She took a deep breath and leaned back to remove her sweater, accidentally bumping into him with her elbow as she did.
“Oop,” he said, reaching out to try to help her get it off. She managed without him, staring down at his heaving chest, his slightly parted lips, the whole time. She had barely closed her eyes—she could barely keep her eyes off him.
She slammed her hand down on the armrest of his chair as she squirmed out of the second sleeve and tossed it behind her.
He stared at her, his gaze flicking downward toward her bare abdomen. She grabbed his hands and put them once more on the small of her back, a moan escaping her lips at the feel of his rough hands against her bare skin.
She pushed forward and kissed him again, kissing his neck and shifting his T-shirt to allow better access to the skin of his shoulder, the skin at the base of his throat. She felt his hands go up her back, up under her blouse, sliding in hard beneath the strap of her bra. She pulled back, gasping, shoving her fingers downward to get up under his shirt.
“Off,” she said, clipped, rolling the shirt upward and forcing him to let go and lift his hands up so she could fling the shirt away. She didn’t even feel bad when she tugged it up past his face, knocking his nose just a little in her exuberance. She let her fingers run through the soft, fine down on his pecs.How is he so, so toned?She wondered if his possibly-daily physical therapy had something to do with it. Daniel was built like someone had let the air out of a man-shaped-being.
Archer placed his hands on her mid-back, staring up at her as her hair teased the side of his face. “You’re really not one for small talk, are you?”
She leaned forward and pressed her nose to his, her breath hot. “Do you need more help to get in the mood?”
Almost as if on cue, she felt him harden, his jeans and hers between them. Her thighs and calves tingled and she was overwhelmed with the urge to rip everything right off him, but then she realized her legs had fallenasleep, that despite her overpowering desire, she was starting to lose feeling. She laughed and scooched backward, fumbling to bring out her shaking legs to let her feet touch the floor.
He swallowed, watching her, his arms falling down limply. “Sorry,” he said.
“Don’t be…” She stumbled and he leaned forward, his hand shooting out to provide her some support as she tried to stand up and get some more feeling back in her legs. She laughed. “I just think… We need more space.”
“Bedroom,” he breathed.
She turned, practically running down the hall, then thought better of it and reached for her purse before she went. “Just in case…” she said, rummaging through and pulling the condom she kept in a buried pocket of her bag for “just in case” types of situations.
He stared at her. She unbuttoned her pants and took them off, shaking her butt as she did, knowing she was imitating virtually every male director’s gaze when it came to the simple task of women undressing.
That little shimmy had its uses.
Archer reached out toward her, but she took a step back, grinning. “I’ll be waiting.” She power-walked down the hallway to the bedroom, giving him time to appreciate the contoured black panties covering her ass.
* * *
Runningover his own T-shirt with a wheelchair only registered with Archer when his wheel got a little stuck and he had to back up to maneuver around it and the pair of jeans Brielle had left beside it.
He couldn’t stop staring at Brielle as she walked away, couldn’t stop gaping after her even as she turned into the bedroom, leaned over the side of the frame, and smiled before vanishing out of sight.
But once she’d been out of his line of vision for half a minute, the panic set in. He’d left his braces on—half on, for one of them, he noticed, seeing that the one he’d partially unfastened had shifted even more after—and he really didn’t know what to do. He’d pictured himself standing to kiss her, but he wouldn’t be able to stand up for long, couldn’t hold her as he did.
