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“I like it when you hit me,” he murmurs. “Makes me come harder.”
“There’s something seriously wrong with you.” I shove my front door open and lob my briefcase onto the kitchen counter. The keys go second, then before I have a chance to turn back and lock my door, Aubree strolls through with a smile larger than any other I’ve seen today.
“Aubree’s here,” I tell Archer. “Just so you know.”
Like a balloon deflating, he exhales his disappointment. “So you’re not gonna touch yourself in the shower and let me listen?”
“I wasn’t gonna do that anyway, but I’m especially not doing it with an audience.”
I move to my fridge and take out a bottle of water. And since I’m not a complete savage, I grab a second and offer it to Aubree, who accepts with a surprised shrug of her shoulders.
Bumping the fridge door closed with my hip, I hiss at the pain that radiates across my skin when I realize I caught the handle and not the flat surface. “Ouch.”
“You hurt yourself again?” The sex is stripped from Archer’s voice, and instead, the worry he’s so good at takes over, and in the background, his chair squeaks as he—I can only imagine—sits straighter at his desk. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I set my bottle on the counter and furiously rub the spot on my body that I know, within an hour, will sport a soccer-ball-sized bruise. “I wasn’t thinking. What time are you picking me up?”
“Hmm. It’s, what… five now?” He considers for a moment. “How long you need to wax and primp and get yourself ready for me?”
I roll my eyes and go back to opening my bottle of water, while across my apartment, Aubree heads into the hall. “I do those things forme. You simply get to enjoy the perks.”
“Still works out. How long do you need?”
“An hour.” Bringing the bottle up, I chug half and realize only now I’ve yet to drink any water today. “An hour is plenty of time. Are you set on the dress, or was that teasing?”
“Wear anything that makes you happy.” I know, despite being unable to see him, his sentence ends with a smile. “The day we met, you wore jeans and an oversized sweater. So clearly, I’m into that look too. I’ll be at your door at six on the dot. Be ready for me, okay?”
“I’ll be ready. And hey, Archer, before you go?”
“Mmm?”
“Why am I nervous?” I quieten my voice and set the bottle on the counter. “Why does this feel like such a big deal?”
He exhales a happy sigh. “Because we’re important. And the promises we make will mean something. I’ll see you in a bit, okay? I love you.”
“I love you too.” I whisper the words, despite my pulse being loud in my ears. “I’ll be ready for you.”
Hanging up, since I know Archer won’t do it first, I set my phone on the counter and pause for a moment. With my fingers on the device and my heart in my throat, I stare at the laminate counter and simply… breathe.
Because maybe he’s right. Maybe this is actually important.
And maybe, I’m the last one around here able to acknowledge the inevitable.
Love. Cohabitation. Perhaps marriage somewhere in the future.
“Are you done having phone sex yet?” Aubree steps out of the hall with a leer that says she heard everything she wasn’t supposed to. “Because I’m feeling kinda hot over here, and I wasn’t even the one he was talking to.”
Rolling my eyes—a feeble attempt to offset the way Archer scrambles my brains and makes me feel stupid—I push away from the counter and head toward the hall. “I’m going to have a shower. Then I’m putting on a dress.”
“Oh, nice.” She follows me into my room and moves straight to the wardrobe. “Long dress or short dress? Boobs or no?”
“Mid-thigh.” I head into the bathroom and flip the shower on. “And I’m open on the boobs thing. Whatever looks nicest.”
“Little black dress?” She flicks through each coat hanger to check what I have. “Or color?”
“Probably black.”
As steam fills the bathroom and warmth slowly etches into my bones, I unsnap my pants and begin stripping.
