Hannah drags a free chair over from another table and joins us. After we all exchange greetings and proper introductions are made, Kins says, “Sam had to almost drown in a shark tank before Hannah would admit she loved him.”
“What?!” Em, Storm, and I yelp.
“It sounds bad when you say it like that,” Hannah says, rolling her eyes.
“You guys can’t give me shit for being a hard-ass anymore,” I state. “I got nothing on this chick.”
When I get home, I’m feeling lighter than I have all week, thanks to tonight’s girl time.
Turns out, Hannah works at the restaurant we were at, looking after the sharks that live in the aquarium. Meeting her and hearing how she and Sam got together makes me hopeful I can sort my own shit out. Hannah was just as resistant to relationships as me, but for Sam, she got past her issues. The way she tells it, taking that leap of faith with him was the best thing she’s ever done.
The more I think about it, the more certain I am that a life without Archer is not one I’m interested in. I just need to find a way to show him that I’m ready to let him in. The girls had some solid suggestions, but none of them were really me.
The Lumineers are playing softly as I lie on top of my comforter, staring at the ceiling while I try to come up with a way to ask Arch to come to Kins’ wedding with me.
A knock sounds at my bedroom door, and I call out, “Yo.”
“Mind if I come in?” Archer asks, poking his head inside.
I prop myself up on my elbows. “Sure.” Then it dawns on me—I’m thinking way too hard about all this. I need to just put it out there like I do with everything else. “There’s actually something I wanted to ask you.”
Archer closes the door behind him and approaches the bed, then he veers off to the armchair in the corner. After sitting, he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
He’s so freaking hot. My gaze trails over him from the baseball cap twisted backwards on his head to his bare feet. Sooo hot.
“You need to quit looking at me like that.”
I smirk. “Why? I thought you wanted me to stop fighting this?”
“Fuckin’ A,” he grumbles under his breath. He shifts his gaze to the wall. “I came in here to talk, and the longer you give me fuck-me eyes, the less I want to talk.”
“Fiiine,” I drawl. “What’s up?”
He lifts his eyes to meet mine. “Bates,” he says.
I sit up fully, shuffling to lean against my headboard. “What about him?”
“Something’s off with him. Any time I try to bring it up, he shuts me out. It’s not like Bates.”
“I know,” I say, running a hand through my messy hair, my fingers getting caught on a snag. Leaning over, I grab a comb from my side table and rake it through the tangled strands. “I tried talking to him about it the other night. That’s when he threw this,” I say, gesturing between us, “back in my face.”
Archer nods then shifts until he’s sprawled out in the armchair. He twists his cap around and drops his head back, staring up at the ceiling. He sighs. “Do you think that’s really his problem? Us?”
The thought gives me pause. I let it roll around in my head, but no, I don’t think that’s Bates’ problem. At least, not all of it. “Something else is going on with him,” I tell Archer. “There is no us for him to have an issue with.”
When Arch lifts his head, glaring at me, I add, “Yet.”
He’s out of the chair and hovering above me a beat later.
I laugh. “What are you doing?”
“You said yet,” he states, a brilliant smile on his face.
“That I did,” I agree, unable to resist smiling back. Swallowing my nerves, I lift my hands and slide them around his neck.
His gaze sharpens and fills with heat.
“I’m done fighting.”
“Thank fuck,” he breathes as I tug him until our mouths are so close our breaths mingle.
I groan when he rolls his hips against mine. It feels so good. Neither of us move to close the tiny space between our lips. Then, he knocks his hat off his head and rolls, taking me with him. This new position has me straddling his hips, and his hands grip my waist as he grinds into me.
My head falls back as a wave of sensation washes over me. I brace my palms on his chest and moan, “Arch.”
“Shut up and kiss me, spitfire,” he demands, and I do.
I glide my fingers over his collarbone, along his shoulders, to his neck. My fingers dip into his hair, and I bring my mouth down on his. It’s hot and hurried. We’re all lips and teeth and tongues.
His hands float along my sides until he’s gripping my ass and guiding me over his erection as he thrusts from below. My sleep shorts and his sweats are the only barrier between us.
“God, I’ve missed you,” he groans into my throat between hot, wet kisses. He releases my ass. His calloused palms coast up and under the hem of my tank.
The feel of his skin against mine is electric. I sit, yanking my top over my head before tossing it to the side. Arch licks his lips as he trails his hands around my body to cup my aching breasts.
I slap his hands away and shimmy back just enough that I’m able to find the bottom of his tee. “Off. I want this off,” I tell him, tugging his shirt.
He grins and reaches behind his neck, hooking the fabric and dragging it over his head.
My hungry gaze rakes over every inch of exposed muscle. His abs bunch and ripple as he moves, flinging his shirt away. Bending over him, I brush soft kisses to each of his pecs then slowly move down his abdomen. I pay attention to each and every dip and curve of muscle.
His hips flex beneath my ass, and I chuckle, lifting my gaze to his. “Problem?” I ask.
He shakes his head adamantly. “Not a one.”
“Good,” I murmur, going back to my task of driving him insane with need.
I have dreamed of this moment for so long it barely feels real.
Keeping my eyes open is a mission, but I refuse to miss a second of it. My gaze is locked on Lennon as she kisses and licks her way down my abs to the band of my sweats. Then she looks up, a devious grin on her face, and I narrow my eyes.
Ever so slowly, she sits. Her manicured nails toy with the band of my pants. “I want you to come to Kinsley’s wedding with me.”
I blink dumbly. “You want to talk about this now?”
“Yep,” she hums.
“Of course I’ll go with you,” I tell her, hoping like hell the talking portion of tonight is over.
She smiles, slides off my lap, then climbs off the bed. I gape at her as she picks up her discarded tank and pulls it back on.
“Have I missed something?” I ask. I’m so fucking confused right now. All the blood in my body is currently gathered in my dick, and my brain doesn’t understand what’s going on.
“No,” she says casually.
I stare at her, then at my extremely hard dick, then her again. “Then why are you over there and not on top of me?”
She sits in the armchair by the window, a calculating gleam in her eyes as she crosses one sculpted leg over the other. “You know all those times over the last year that you cornered me in my office and taunted me with almost-kisses and featherlight touches?”