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“You can take my dress off now,” she murmurs.
My blood sizzles in response to the challenge. Acting not so gentle anymore, I let go of her leg and flip her again so that her front is now pressed to the wall. I grab her arms and pull them up, placing her palms flat next to her face.
A pause lets me enjoy her labored breathing, then I pull the zipper of her dress down. It goes all the way to the back split of her skirt and pulls apart with a soft click. Her dress opens up like a reverse kimono, revealing pastel, lacy underwear that easily sheds a few years off my life.
I trail a knuckle down her spine, vertebra by vertebra. Kiss her neck again, her shoulder blades, her nape. Summer’s breath comes in ragged gasps as I trace patterns on her skin with my tongue, easing her dress down as I go.
Her fingers clench at the wall as the dress pools around her ankles, leaving her in nothing but that lacy lingerie.
I can’t control myself any longer. I need to have her now. I stand back. “You’re going to kill me.”
Her eyes cut to mine over her shoulder. And those dark pools of desire take the rest of my breath away.
That’s it. I scoop her up into my arms and carry her to the bed. As I lay her down on the mattress, her hair splays out around her like a golden halo. Her chest heaves with each ragged breath. And she’s so damn beautiful it hurts.
I take off my T-shirt, letting her gaze at my chest, and then lean over her. She grabs me by the shoulders, pulling me in for another kiss. Her nails sink into my skin;now we’re talking.
“Please,” she says again.
With inhuman effort, I pull up on my elbows, lifting away from her. Locking eyes with her, I say, “You can still change your mind; are you sure this is what you want?”
Our eyes hold, and I can see the vulnerability in hers.
“Don’t make me beg,” she whispers.
Summer arches into me and that’s all it takes. Now I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to.
7
SUMMER
Sunlight filters through the blinds, waking me up. I stir and stretch under the covers, not opening my eyes yet. I feel simultaneously rested and exhausted.
I blink. I don’t recognize my surroundings. Honestly, I’m not sure when, where, or who I am. I turn my head and find two piercingly ice-blue eyes peering down at me.
Archie’s lips part in a wicked grin. “Took you a minute there, didn’t it?”
I can’t help but smile back. Yeah, the man is cocky, but not without good reason. He made me forget my name for a minute after all.
Memories from last night invade my brain all at once. The sensation of his velvet-soft lips exploring my body and his beard deliciously tickling my skin. The way his chest felt pressed over mine. How he touched me like I was a precious thing but with an animalistic hunger at the same time that made me ache for more. Or the way he whispered dirty nothings in my ear as he brought me to heights of gratification I didn’t even know existed.
Who knew sex with no strings could be this… liberating, explosive, exhilarating, and intensely satisfying. I should feel ashamed that I’ve leaned even more into the scarlet woman stereotype by jumping into bed with a man I don’t even know. But I don’t care. We’re not hurting anyone, so it isn’t anybody’s business what we do. And it felt too good anyway. Even now I can feel an aftershock of pleasure coursing through my veins with just the remembrance of it all. Still, I’m not about to inflate his already large ego.
I straighten up on the bed, pulling the sheets along with me—not that there’s any need for modesty at this point. A few more highlights of the night’s activities quickly flash through my head, threatening to make me blush. So, I blink the memories away and address Mr. Cocky instead. “You don’t do humble, do you?”
He raises his hands behind his head, elbows opened wide, biceps showing. “Never saw the point. Never had a reason to.”
He throws me a side look that’s enough to make my toes curl.
I need a break from all the testosterone.
“I need a shower,” I say, trying to figure out a way to get out from under the covers without him seeing me naked. Ridiculous, I know.
“Want company?” Archie offers. “I’m the best at soaping up.”
“No doubt,” I say sincerely. “But I prefer to use my own room.”
“Sure,” he says with half a shrug, pointedly staring at me as if he knows I’m embarrassed to get up while he’s looking.
