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He lifted my t-shirt, exposing my stomach, pressing a kiss to my skin. “I’m a fool. Forgive me?”
“I will if you come on a date with me tonight.”
“Fuck, I want to, but I’m already dead on my feet and we have to play tonight. Can I take a rain check?”
I shook my head, tugging Archer’s hair until he was looking up at me, his eyes burning. “My room, midnight. I’m going to order us some dinner and then we can see where the night takes us. We can watch a film or something.”
“Or something?” He licked his lips.
“I’ve not been able to stop thinking about you.”
“That’s good to hear. Good thoughts, I hope. What have you been thinking?”
I leaned down, my mouth finding his ear. “About how you’d taste in my mouth, how you’d feel inside me, what it would be like to have you on your knees, eating me like your last meal.”
“Jesus, woman, are you trying to make me come in my pants again?”
“How about you don’t come until I tell you that you can?”
I didn’t know where my confidence had come from, but the idea of seeing Archer on his knees had played on my mind for the last few days. It had invaded my daydreams, infiltrated my sleep, and dominated my thoughts, and right now, him looking up at me from his seat was not helping the pulsing need between my thighs.
“I don’t like to be given a choice. If you want something from me, I want you to tell me. I want you to take it.”
A shiver rippled through my body at his confession.
“My suite. Midnight.”
“You’re not coming to the gig tonight?” Hurt echoed through his words.
“I’ll be there, but I want you to know what’s coming afterward.”
He raised his eyebrow.
“You, you’ll be coming, Arch.”
He laughed. “And you said my lines were cheesy. Now, you want to get a coffee, or do you want to hear what I’ve been working on?”
I pointed to the piano, and he tapped the space next to him.
Chapter 35
Archer
Iknockedonherdoor, butterflies fluttering like a tornado in my belly.
“It’s open.”
Stepping into the room, I closed and locked the door behind me. Our rooms were all identical. King size beds, a small living area with sofas pointed toward a large flatscreen, two bathrooms, and floor to ceiling windows along one wall giving a perfect view of the city.
Ionee’s room smelled amazing; her perfume, candles that burned on the coffee table and next to the bed, along with the tray of food that sat on a trolley covered in silver cloches, but there was no sign of her.
“Nee?”
The bathroom door opened and out she stepped, dressed in a tight pink vest top and matching shorts that barely covered her ass. Her hair spilled over her shoulders and I loved that she’d not gone out of her way to hide her scar; one flick of her hair, and I’d be able to see it.
“You hungry?” she asked as she walked toward me.
“Famished.”
