I order a large pepperoni pizza then drop my cell on the coffee table and kick my feet up on the edge. “Is this how it’s going to be?” I ask her. “You pretending I don’t exist unless I’m feeding you or supplying you alcohol?”
Her eyes dart to mine for the barest of seconds, then she takes a long pull from her beer. Lowering her bottle slowly, she licks a drop of liquid off her lip, and I harden instantly.
“It’s not like that,” she says.
I smirk. “You sure about that? You won’t even look at me, Len.”
“That’s because you’re practically naked,” she snaps, glaring at me.
At least her eyes are on me. “I’m not even close to naked, but I could be. If that’s what you want . . .”
Her glare turns lethal. “Don’t you dare.”
I slide my free hand over my abs to the band of my sweats, her eyes following the movement. “Why not? It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”
She swallows as I drag the band down an inch. The heated look in her eyes stokes my ego and forces the rest of the blood in my body straight to my dick.
“Arch,” she breathes.
I love the husky way she says my name. I release the band and flatten my palm, gliding it over my aching cock. My eyes stay locked on her face; hers stay locked on my hand as I continue to slide my palm up and down my length. Being in this moment with her feels so fucking good.
She hasn’t told me to stop, so I keep going. Her chest rises and falls in rapid succession, drawing my gaze to her peaked nipples. Fuck I want to touch her. I’m dying to feel her again. But if I push too much, she’ll walk away. So, I content myself with this.
My cock throbs, and I increase my pace, stroking faster, harder. Len’s eyes darken, and she squeezes her legs together. A bolt of lust shoots through me as her teeth sink into her plump bottom lip. “Len,” I groan.
I’m going to come in my pants like a teenager, but I don’t fucking care. This feels too good—her eyes on me, her nipples hard, her thighs rubbing together as she watches me . . .
I grit my teeth as my balls draw tight. “Fuck, spitfire, I’m going to come,” I growl seconds before I do just that.
Her eyes are glazed with lust, and she shoots to her feet. She’s going to run.
“Len,” I start, but a knock sounds from the front door, and her eyes dart toward it. I glance at the wet spot on my sweats then back to her. “You mind getting that? It’ll be dinner. I can’t exactly answer it like this . . .” I say, gesturing to the outline of my still semi-hard dick.
She looks where I’m pointing, shakes her head, then crosses her arms over her chest and arches a brow. “It’d serve you right for pulling that little stunt.”
I stand, moving into her space. “Don’t act like you didn’t like it,” I murmur against her neck. “Now get the door. I’m hungry.” I slap her ass as I move past her, heading for my room to clean myself up and grab some fresh sweats. She grumbles something unintelligible under her breath behind my back, and a satisfied smile spreads across my face.
When I return to the living room, she’s back in her armchair. The pizza box sits open on the coffee table as do two fresh beers and some napkins. “Thanks,” I say, tipping my beer toward her then taking a swig.
She doesn’t respond. Okay, I guess we’re back to the silent treatment then.
Given what I just did, and the fact that she’s still sitting here with me, I’m going to count tonight as a win. Even if she isn’t speaking to me right now.
I grab a slice from the box then settle back on the couch, stretching my legs out and resting my heels on the coffee table. Lennon flicks through the movies in her iTunes library, coming to a stop on The Italian Job. She selects it then tosses the remote near my feet, grabs a slice, and takes a massive bite.
“Nice movie selection.”
She side-eyes me as she chews then swallows and says, “Can’t go wrong with Marky Mark.”
So, she’s not not talking to me. I can’t keep up. One minute she is; the next she isn’t.
Don’t take it personally, man. She’s sorting out shit in her head. Give her time.
We don’t talk again until the movie credits start rolling.
“Thanks for the pizza,” she says as she stands. “Goodnight, Arch.”
“Night, spitfire,” I murmur quietly as she walks away. I run a hand through my hair then get up to put the leftovers away and our empty beer bottles in the trash.
Walking down the hall, I pause outside her room. The sound of music playing softly inside filters through the door. Is she in there thinking about what I did earlier? Is she touching herself?
“Fuuuck,” I curse under my breath and force myself to continue down the hall to my room.
For the second time tonight, I take my dick in my hand and stroke it until I come with her name on my lips.
It’s been a week since Archer moved in, and I’ve successfully managed to avoid being alone with him since that night. My evasion skills have been on point.
Tonight, though, the boys are at a team meeting and shouldn’t be home till late. So, I’m planning on watching movies on the couch in my underwear.
I made a stop at the Chinese takeout down the block and grabbed all my favorites with the intent to gorge on yummy food, drink good wine, and watch sexy men in superhero costumes.
My night is looking good . . . until I swing open the door to my apartment and find some random chick riding my brother.
“What the fuck, Bates?” I screech. “You’re getting your love juices all over the couch!”
He sits up and peeks around the side of the chick. “Oh, hey. You’re home early.”
My eyes widen. “Is that all you have to say? You’re fucking some rando on my couch—which, by the way, you’re now replacing.”
The girl makes no move to cover herself or to climb off my brother. In fact, I’m pretty sure she’s still trying to roll her hips. I cringe. Gross.
“Could you give us a minute, Len?” Bates asks, looking hopeful.
I shudder. “I meant what I said about the couch—you’re replacing it. I’m going to Em’s. Call me when it’s safe to come back.” I turn on my heels and slam the door behind me. He is out of control. If he keeps this up, I’m going to have to do something about it.
A few minutes later, I stand outside Em and Sebastian’s apartment, knocking on the door.
A muffled, “Coming,” sounds before Sebastian swings it open. His hair is a mess, his glasses are skewed, and his shirt is half-untucked . . .
“Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt,” I tell him. “I’ll just go.”
He bursts out laughing. “Lennon, it’s fine. You’re not interrupting. The girls are here,” he says.
“Ohhh,” I mutter. “Okay then.” I step past him and into their apartment where his nieces, Everly and Hazel, look as disheveled as Sebastian does.
“Lemon!” Everly cries when she sees me.
I chuckle. “It’s Len-non,” I remind the five-year-old who thinks she’s hilarious. “How you doin’, squirt? How’s that new baby brother of yours goin’?”