Home > FAKE(51)

FAKE(51)
Author: Tate James

I worked through those thoughts, and he just stared up at me, his cool blue eyes assessing and curious. For the first time in as long as I'd known him, his mask was gone. He wasn't trying to guard his thoughts and feelings; he wasn't hiding his reactions. It was unnerving as hell.

"You want to hurt me, don't you?" he asked after a moment, a grin curling the corners of his lips. "You've got murder in your pretty eyes, Princess. It's such a turn-on."

Fuck me.

Turning away from Archer's all too intense stare, I checked my phone and found messages from both Kody and Steele. One of them had asked if I needed him to come pick up Archer's drunk ass. The other asked if I needed a body cleanup. Both made me smile.

"Calling in your guard dogs, Princess?" Archer asked with a mocking laugh. "Running scared again. Typical."

I rolled my eyes and tapped out a quick reply to both boys, assuring them we were just fine. I didn't need my so-called guard dogs to tear Archer a new asshole, thanks.

Spinning back around, I planted my hands on my hips and speared my asshole husband and owner with a glare that could boil acid. "Why did you do it in the first place?" I demanded. "Why buy me at all? It sure as fuck wasn't for the sex. And I seriously doubt it was for my mediocre trust fund. So why do it?"

He stared up at me a moment, his gaze locked with mine and an odd, almost wistful smile touching his lips. Instead of answering, he dropped his empty cider bottle on the coffee table and stood up, towering over me. Fucker.

Two steps saw him eliminate the space between us, and he dipped his head until his lips were right beside my ear.

"Because if I didn't, someone else would have. I saved your life, Princess. A little gratitude wouldn't go astray." His whispered words were harsh, full of pain for something I couldn't even remotely identify. It wasn't just that I hadn't thanked him, that was for sure. It was something a hell of a lot deeper and more fucked up than I was fully grasping. Yet.

"Where are you going?" I demanded as he pushed past me. "We're not done here."

He barked a laugh. "You've got that right. I'm taking a piss. Is that okay with you, darling wife? That pear bullshit just went straight through me."

Oh.

Biting the inside of my cheek, I indicated he go ahead. The last thing I needed was a drunk Archer D'Ath to pass out on my couch and piss himself. Then again, maybe that would cure me of the potent sexual chemistry between us...

Too late. The bathroom door slammed, and I heaved a sigh.

I could safely say this wasn't how I had imagined my Friday night was going to play out. In an attempt to calm my nerves, I collected up our empty bottles and took them to the kitchen, disposing of them in the recycling bin.

The whoosh of water from my bathroom indicated that he'd flushed, but then the shower started up. What the hell? Was he taking a shower in my apartment? Since when had I agreed to that?

Enraged—and just a fraction tipsy from the wine and cider—I marched through to tell him he'd broken the damn rules of hospitality. I flung the bathroom door open dramatically, then almost swallowed my tongue.

"Do you mind?" my husband—my very naked husband—asked from beneath the shower spray. "Ever heard of knocking?"

Speechless, I clapped a hand over my eyes, but come on. I'd totally already seen everything. So had my libido, if the dramatic tightening of my nipples and pulsing of my cunt were any indication. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Why are you in my shower?" I demanded with shrill panic in my voice.

"Why not?" he replied, his voice carrying way too much amusement for the current situation. "Wanna join me, Princess? I could scrub your back for you."

It was legitimately embarrassing how tempted I was by that offer.

Thank god I hadn't drunk anything more, or I'd be wet and soaped up right now. As it was, I was only one of those things.

Groan. Archer was slowly killing me.

"Just... get the fuck out," I growled, keeping my hand tight over my eyes. "I thought you wanted to talk, not shave your balls."

The water shut off and Archer's chuckle grew closer. Way too close. Enough that water dripped on my bare toes.

"Why not both?" he teased, his arm brushing me as he reached for a towel. "Relax, Princess. My dick isn't going to hypnotize you like some kind of snake charmer." He paused, and I just knew he had something to add. "Unless you want it to, of course."

Yep. Typical, predictable Archer.

Growling insults at him, I kept my eyes averted—because holy crap, I was only human—and retreated back into my bedroom. I needed a hoodie or something to put an extra layer of protection between us. All of a sudden, my oversized T-shirt and short shorts were feeling way too see-through.

I heard Archer moving around behind me, but I kept my eyes firmly forward as I hunted through my dresser for the biggest sweatshirt I owned. Bingo. One of Kody's would be perfect.

Yanking it on, I finally turned around and did a sharp double take when I found Archer in my freaking bed.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I exclaimed, my eyes bugging out as he made himself comfortable, then threw an arm over his head with a yawn.

"I'm sleepy," he replied, like a petulant child. "You don't mind if I stay here, do you?" The clear implication of his tone was that he didn't particularly care if I minded. I wasn't getting a damn choice.

Still, I ground my teeth together, seething. "Yes, I fucking mind. Get out. Go home. You've got that big old mansion that you were passing off as my father’s. Go sleep there if you're so tired."

He blinked at me from heavy-lidded eyes, shrugging one of those huge, muscular shoulders covered in ink. Goddamn he'd spent a bit of time under the needle for that many tattoos.

"Can't," he replied in a slurred drawl. "You're stuck with me, wifey."

Frustration was spiking my temper to violent levels. I wanted to stab him with that pretty, purple knife he'd given me. It was right there on my dresser, within reach...

But my curiosity won out, as it always did.

"What does that even mean, Archer? Why can't you go home? Don't you mean you won't?" I narrowed my eyes at him. His chest was bare, my rumpled blankets tossed over his waist. Had he put any pants on before climbing in there? Or was he totally naked? Why the fuck did I care?

He yawned again. "Can't," he repeated. "Kody and Steele threw me out and told me not to come back until I'd resolved my issues, so here I am." He spread his hands wide, indicating that all his issues centered around me. "Resolving."

Irritation pricked at my skin, and I mentally cursed out those two fuckers. Had their excuses for not being here tonight just been bullshit? No, they’d promised not to lie to me anymore. I doubt they could have known this was how Archer planned to deal with his baggage.

I folded my arms, glaring at the intoxicated bastard in my bed. "So, consider it done. Issues resolved. Now fuck off."

A smile curled his lips, and he shook his head. "Not even close. Why don't you come over here, and we can finish our conversation?" He patted the vacant space of bed beside him like he wasn't inviting me to lie with a viper.

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