11
“Here’s some painkillers. Are you sure you’re, all right?”
The more Caley fussed over him, the better Archer felt. He didn’t know why. He’d had women fuss over him most of his life. But then, she wasn’t doing it because she wanted something from him. So why was she doing it? Because of his brother?
He caught them both giving the other one longing looks when they thought the other wasn’t looking. He wasn’t sure what he’d interrupted with his ungraceful accident, but he had a feeling things hadn’t been going well.
Despite Isaac’s terrible attempts at flirting.
Jealous of him. Ha! Archer wasn’t jealous of that ass’s dick. Or anything he could do in the bedroom.
Christ, listen to yourself, man. Next thing you know, you’ll be flopping it out and challenging him.
Seemed he would now have to add a washer-dryer to the list of things he was going to need to get for her. Along with a new microwave.
Except that was probably something Isaac would want to do. He knew that his brother was working on getting firewood for her. But if he was going to be her Dom, then it was his job to make certain she was taken care of.
Not Archer’s.
Ouch that hurt. Damn it. Why did he have to like her as well? He barely knew her. Although living together like this, it was difficult not to learn more about someone.
Archer definitely had a certain type he went for. Generally tall, willowy brunettes, maybe the occasional redhead. Someone with a high-powered job. Someone who didn’t worry if he missed returning a phone call or had to cancel a date due to work. Someone who liked to submit in the bedroom, where he could make them feel good. But the next morning, they would know the score. They’d leave without a fuss. Because all he was interested in was something casual.
Was that really all he wanted? Casual hook-ups that never meant anything? Women who he never let himself get attached to?
What was wrong with him?
That would never be Caley. She wasn’t casual. She wouldn’t fall into some box. And she was in desperate need of someone to watch out for her. Over her. She needed more than he was comfortable giving. She required someone like Isaac. Who had to be needed. Who had to be in charge. Who was happy making the decisions.
Being the boss.
Archer could give commands all night long but when the sun came up, he only wanted to be responsible for himself.
Right?
At least that’s what he’d always thought.
Damned if he knew what he wanted now. Or why he was so attracted to her.
It could never go anywhere. His brother wanted her. And he would never come between his brother and a woman again.
Maybe she could be between the two of you?
Holy crap. Where had that thought come from? His cock stirred at the idea of sharing her. Of playing with her breasts while his brother licked her pussy.
Shit. Not going to happen. He’d been part of a ménage once before. Years ago, just after college. It hadn’t worked out. It wouldn’t work now, either. He wanted something different than Caley and Issy.
And besides, he was certain that Issy would never share.
“I’m so sorry, Archer. If I knew you wanted the washer, I would have told you about its quirks.”
Quirks? That wasn’t a quirk. It was a fucking hazard.
“I’m fine, love. Stop stressing. No harm done. Why don’t you sit down? Have a rest.”
She gave him a look like he was crazy. But she seemed stressed. Frazzled. He didn’t like it. She should be relaxed. Happy. If she was his, he could keep her in the lap of luxury. She wouldn’t have to work. Wouldn’t have to stress. She wouldn’t be surrounded by appliances that were either on their last legs or dangerous. She wouldn’t be isolated and alone, she wouldn’t worry about where her next paycheck was coming from.
But she’s not yours.