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And then there was the fact that his braces made it hard to remove his pants.
Even though he knew she was waiting for him, he decided to remove them right then and there. The wrinkly slip of paper still on his kitchen table—the paper with her name and number on it—caught his eye. “So,” he called loudly down the hallway, “you want to work in a museum?”
Stupid. That was stupid.But he didn’t want her to think he’d forgotten about her. Good god, he could never forget the way she’d sashayed down the hallway.
“Maybe,” she called, and Archer realized that with the mood his mother was in and the fact that he had that piece of paper right there on the table, his mother was never going to get her that referral. As he put his first brace down, he grabbed the paper and crumpled it into his fist, tossing it on the chair so it’d be out of sight. He couldn’t risk her disappointment ruining what was shaping up to be one of the best days of his life. He’d tell her tomorrow. Or depending on what she wanted to do tomorrow, maybe the next day.
Youdohave a deadline this week, too.But he couldn’t imagine ever wanting to do anything else again, as stupid as that thought was.
“Does it matter what kind of museum?” he asked, getting to work on the second brace. “Or like, are you considering places other than Chicago?”
“Archer,” she called out loudly down the hallway. “Less talking. More kissing.”
He didn’t have to be told twice.
Free of his braces, he considered shimmying out of his pants, but he just couldn’t picture himself wheeling in there in his boxers, or god forbid, without anything on, and it somehow being sexy.
He knew his top was pretty toned, but he really wasn’t ready for her to be staring at his legs. He shifted his pants legs down and headed down the hallway.
Brielle was lying on his bed, her dark hair popping out against his white sheets, framing her face like brush strokes. She got up a little, leaning on her forearms and shifting her hair to one side. She drove him crazy every time she touched her hair like that.
“How should we…?” she asked, studying him.
He wheeled to the grab bars at the side of his bed, self-conscious of how her eyes followed every move he made. “I just need to shift up there,” he said, trying not to think about how mood-killing it would all be.
She got up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, watching him. “Need help?”
He cleared his throat. “No,” he said, fully aware he’d never done this before with an audience. Even Pauline usually had her eyes diverted on the rare instances she needed to watch him get in or out of bed.
Heart thumping, he slid himself into position and grabbed hold of his rails, pulling… Then slipping as the chair went sailing backward. He’d forgotten to lock it.Again. She was such a distraction. His hands grabbed hold of the bars tightly despite the strain in his muscles and though he sank downward, his legs, unprepared for the weight, collapsing beneath him, he at least didn’t fall back swiftly.
“Oh my god!” said Brielle, jumping up and crouching beside him.
Panting, he made sure his rear was close enough to be let down gently and he allowed himself to fall all the way down, lowering himself slowly. He would catch his breath and try to pull himself up by the grab bars once in a better position. He knew Pauline would have been able to help—she had the arm strength necessary to help her patients after a fall—but he couldn’t imagine Brielle’s thin arms doing the job.
“I’m fine,” he said, falling back onto his elbows in imitation of how she’d greeted him from his bed. He laughed between jagged breaths, almost too mortified to even care anymore. He’d always known something like this would happen during his first bedroom encounter. That was partly why he’d been so afraid of it.
Brielle examined his front and his back, her brows scrunched together. “Did you hurt anything, though?”
He waved a hand at her. “I fell too slowly for that.”
“Good,” she said, sitting on her calves and placing her palms on her thighs. Her naked, smooth, amazing thighs.
“Mood killer?” panted Archer, afraid of the answer.
She startled. “No! I just… want to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m okay,” he said.
“Okay.”
They stared at one another, his breath quieting, but his heartbeat growing louder and louder.
“Fuck the bed,” she said, and she crawled onto his lap. She cradled his face with one hand, leaning in for another kiss. He let his hand dance up and down her thigh and he felt himself about to explode. It didn’t even matter that he hadn’t seen her completely in the nude (yet). It didn’t matter that he’d screwed up so bad she was now straddling him on the hardwood floor of his bedroom instead of on that soft, comfortable bed.
He melted at her touch.
Chapter Sixteen
