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Stop!
I need to remember he’s a complete jackass. I should run. Right now. In fact, I’m fully preparing to let him know exactly how much of an ass I think he is when the woman’s voice sounds again, closer this time as she continues to call Archer’s name like some worried owner looking for her pet dog.
“We should—oh.”
He practically shoves me against the railing, the rough concrete scratching my back through the thin fabric of my dress and he immediately slips his arm around my waist, protecting me. Holding me. His chest is against mine, my breasts pressed flush to him, and I release a skittering breath, my mind hung up on having him too close.
“What are you doing?” I whisper, incredulous.
“Shh.” He rests his hand over my mouth, silencing me. His palm is big and warm, his fingers long, and I swear his skin tastes the slightest bit salty—not that I’m licking him or anything.
Oh God, I think... no, IknowI want to lick him. Desperately. Slip one of those long fingers in between my lips and suck. And that is just so, so wrong...
“Maybe she won’t find us,” he whispers, dipping his head so his gaze meets mine. “Stay still.”
I slowly nod, his hand still over my mouth, his eyes locked with mine. His touch gentles as he takes another step closer and I want to melt at his nearness.
“Archer, are you back here?”
I flick my eyes to the left and see the woman. She’s standing about fifty feet away, her head whipping this way and that, almost frantically searching, and I press farther against the ledge at the same time Archer steps into me. His arm is still around my waist, protecting me from the rough concrete, and he’s standing so close I can hardly breathe.
There’s a giant pine tree giving us cover, throwing shadows over the corner we’re standing in, and I don’t think the woman can really see us. She’s oblivious to the fact we’re not that far from her.
Which I’m thankful for. I shouldn’t be. I should be kicking Archer in the shins and letting the woman know he’s right here and then throwing him to the she-wolf. Let him deal with the poor soul he rejected God knows how long ago who still harbors a thing for him.
He’s a complete womanizer. I’d be wise to stay away from him.
My head tells me this. But my body is singing a completely different tune.
Our gazes lock, his thumb sweeps back and forth across my cheek so slowly I want to die. It feels so good. This... is not right. His nearness confuses me. The way he looks at me, touches me, it makes me want him.
Desperately.
My earlier thoughts come rushing back, when I was being all “woe-is-me” wishing for a random stranger to make out with in a dark corner. Being with Archer like this is the next best thing. He’s looking at me like he’s thinking the same thing I am. Which is scary.
Exhilarating. Exciting.
As I stare up at him, I see how absolutely perfect his lips are. How come I never noticed this before? And when his tongue darts out to lick them, why are my knees suddenly shaking?
Oh, this is bad. So, so bad.
The woman finally gives up and leaves and I slump against the railing, ready for him to move away from me. Ready for him to grab me by the hips and lift me up onto the concrete ledge so I can wrap my legs around him and beg him to do me.
Wait, what? I so can’t do that. Clearly, I’ve had too much to drink, if two glasses of champagne could be considered excessive drinking. Which it must be, because I am making absolutely no sense.
“Ivy...” His hand slips from my mouth to cup my cheek, his thumb drifting across the corner of my lips. “I’m sorry.”
His touch distracts me as I try to frown. He’s doing everything I longed for not even an hour ago. Touching my face,nestled against me in a dark corner where anyone could find us. “What are you apologizing for?”
He cradles my face with his big, warm hands and dips his head, his gaze locked on my mouth for a long, breathless moment before he lifts his lids, his dark eyes meeting mine. “This,” he whispers just before he kisses me.
Chapter 3
Archer
Itake it slow for fear Ivy will push me away, and at this very moment that’s the last thing I want to happen. Her lips part easily when I persist and within seconds she’s completely open to me, her tongue sliding against mine. She winds her arms around my neck, her fingers buried in my hair, and I groan at her touch.
Slow goes straight out the window when I smooth my hand down her side, over her hip, curling my fingers into the fabric of her dress. I hitch it up the slightest bit, my mouth never straying from hers, and I feel her tremble beneath my palm as I slip my hand beneath her skirt.
