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I’m lost in wondering what I can do to gain her trust when she places her palm on my cheek. My eyes meet hers.
“Ready to head back to our room?” she asks, nodding her head toward the hallway.
I sigh, standing up and taking her hand without any kind of forethought.
It’s quiet as we walk hand in hand to our room. The air changes the moment we walk in there and I shut the door behind us.
The two of us stare at the one bed with countless pillows piled on top.
Winnie sighs next to me, her eyes trained on the same spot as me. “It’s going to be really hard to sleep tonight after…” Her words drift off.
I smirk, my arms crossing over my chest. “Afteryou touched yourself thinking it was my cock?” I finish, not bothering to hide the smug look on my face.
She nods as her eyes get even wider. “Yeah. After that.”
CHAPTER 32
WINNIE
My wallof pillows was a stupid idea. I don’t know why I thought that big heaps of feathers could do anything to break the tension between Archer and me. Then again, when I first grabbed the pillows, I hadn’t caught him in the shower with his hand around his dick, moaning my name.
But Ididcatch him. And I did watch him get himself off as he watched me do the same, and it’s changed things in a big way.
“Are you going to keep moving?” Archer asks from the other side of the pillows. He’d argued for a while as I set them up between us, but eventually, he relented and let me build the barrier. We’d watched reruns of some sort of house-hunting show on the TV before he finally turned it off, and we both attempted to get some sleep.
No matter how hard we try, sleep hasn’t found either one of us. There were times I thought he was asleep, but I’d sneak a glance over the barrier between us and would find him staring up at the ceiling.
“I know you’re not asleep,” Archer continues. I can’t see him over the mound of pillows between us, but I still feel him all the same.
“I’ll try to stop moving,” I answer, knowing it’ll be near impossible for sleep to take me. I’m way too aware of the man next to me, of the tensionbetween us.
I lie perfectly still for a few minutes before I can’t do it any longer. With a loud sigh, I push off the bed and lean over the pillows between us. “I can’t do this, Archer.”
The sheets have slipped down to his hips, showing me too much of his shirtless torso. It’s obvious how much work he puts into his body, how hard he works to maintain the beautiful cut of his muscles.
“Do you think if we maybe just slept together once, we could get it out of our systems?” I mutter, paying close attention to his reaction.
His muscles stiffen, as if I delivered a blow to him with the question. “It’s cute youactuallybelieve once will ever be enough,” he counters, tucking his hands behind his head. The position brings way too much attention to his defined biceps. I want to grab on to them, to let my nails dig into the skin as he pushes into me. Part of me wonders if he pinned his hands behind his head to make sure he keeps his hands off me.
“Once seems better than nothing,” I whisper. Slowly, I pull pillow after pillow and toss them to the ground until there’s no barrier between us at all.
I’ve had enough of lying here next to him and not doing anything. He’s my husband. I’m attracted to him in a desperate way that I’ve never felt with anyone else. I’m tired of pretending otherwise, of fighting it when all I want is to knowallof him.
“What are you doing?” Archer questions, his voice tight. I want to wipe my fingers across his forehead and get rid of the wrinkle that’s appeared because of how tense he is.
My eyes travel over his body. It was beautiful to watch him come in the shower earlier. I felt powerful in knowing that his reactions were because of me. But it also left me wanting so much more. Even if Archer wasn’t my husband, I’d want him like this. Now that I know him, now that I’ve heard his moans and groans—heard my name fall from his lips in pleasure—I want more.
And I don’t think I can stop until I get it.
“I’m thinking I want you, Archer Moore.” I keep eye contact with him, letting the strap of my nightie fall down my shoulder. Without the help of one of my straps keeping the fabric on my body, the swells of my breasts come into view. It’s got to be the middle of the night at this point, but the moonlight shines through the bedroom windows enough to illuminate the room.
“The problem isn’t that we want each other,” he snaps. He lies so still, his eyes focused right on me. He doesn’t move, even as I inch closer and closer to him in bed.
“Then I don’t see a problem at all.” I adjust my position until I’m on my knees. One of my knees presses into his thigh. I push my thighs open as I pull the fabric of my nightie up so he can get a good view of me. He keeps his eyes trained on mine, but I can tell how hard he’s trying not to look between my legs. His jaw is so tense that the muscle along his jawline ticks away angrily.
He squeezes his eyes shut like it’s taking every inch of his willpower to not give in. I know it’s wrong of me, but I want to push him to his breaking point. It’s my sick way of knowing that I’m not the only one developing feelings I shouldn’t be. I can’t identify what kind of feelings have blossomed between Archer and me, but I know I now look at him and don’t just see a man who plays the part of my husband.
I let my hand slowly fall to his stomach. His muscles immediately tighten underneath my touch. I keep my hand there to see what he does. Will he push it away or allow it to happen?
