At those words, something broke inside me, as if ice was cracking over the large crevice above my soul.
It was so loud, echoing within me. How could Archer not hear it?
“I came up here just to breathe, to figure out what I wanted,” Archer said after a minute.
“And did you figure out what that was?” I asked.
He shook his head. “No. But I don’t mind kissing you.” He took a step forward, and I found myself pressed against the counter. The edge of the granite cooled me through my shirt, the line hard but kept me in the present. It was what I needed with him so close to me, my dick pressing hard against my jeans and, based on the long line at the front of his pants, he felt the same.
“I take it you like being the aggressive one?” I asked, only kind of teasing.
I was fucking teasing? Who the hell was I? Maybe I had been drinking and I hadn’t even realized it. Because I shouldn’t be teasing. But I needed to live in the moment, and all I wanted to do was lean forward right then and taste him again. To run my fingers down his body, to feel the softness or roughness of his skin.
“Aggressive? Hmm. Not always. I used to be.” Something flashed over his eyes, and I wanted to ask, but I didn’t want to break this moment.
Because I wasn’t sure I would ever come back to this. Orcouldcome back to this. “Tell me to stop.”
This was the moment. The moment we could walk away and never think about this again.
“What if I don’t want to?” Archer studied my face, his blue eyes going dark. “So we don’t hurt each other, we’ll just see what happens?”
“And no words. Because I don’t know what to do or say, Archer.” That might be a copout, but I didn’t want to think. I just wanted tobe.
He swallowed hard, and I knew he was thinking, going through his own shit, and I didn’t know what to do.
So I leaned forward, and although I was the one to kiss him first, he kissed me back harder, with more need. His hands tightened on my shoulders, then slowly slid down my arms, gripping my hands before pressing me back against the counter.
There was nothing sweet or romantic about this. Not when our breaths were catching, our teeth were clashing, our lips pressing firmly against one another. I was tugging at his shirt, and he was doing the same to mine.
My fingers dug into the soft skin of his back, his muscles tensing under my hold. He leaned down, bending over to lick my nipple, tugging it into his mouth. My cock twitched, aching enough that I could feel it pulse inside my pants. When he bit down, I gasped, then he went to my other nipple, my hands sliding over his body as I tried not to come in my jeans.
I couldn’t help but groan, needing him, wanting him as he moved up to kiss me again, and we panted into one another.
My cock pressed hard against the seam of my jeans, so fucking hard. I hadn’t been this hard in way too long. I was only used to my own hand, pumping myself until I came into my sheets, in my shower, ignoring the guilt at my own body’s needs.
But I couldn’t feel guilt right then.
It wouldn’t be fair to him.
And, hell, it wouldn’t be fair to me either.
“Tell me to stop,” Archer whispered against my lips, and then again against my neck.
I didn’t tell him to stop.
Instead, I just let myself be, and I didn’t speak at all.
I licked against his lips and then his neck. His lips went to my chest, over the sparse hair there, and then he was sucking at my nipple, hard, harder than I was used to.
My dick went harder, and I swallowed, trying to catch my breath. I slid my hands through his hair, over his shoulders. And then he stood back, studying me, so I did the same, wanting to take him all in.
He was all muscle, lean, with ink down his arms, chest, and back.
He was gorgeous, one of the most stunning creatures I had ever seen.
He stepped closer again, until we were pressed together, chest to chest, skin to skin, and I sucked in a breath, shocked at the sensation.
“Too much?” Archer asked, and I shook my head.