Fall For Me Page 10

  He waved his hand in the air between us. “This.”

  My cheeks heated when I nodded. I bit my bottom lip and closed my eyes, letting out a huff of a laugh when I opened them again. His smoky gaze was waiting for me, watching intently. It felt as if a fuse lit between us, racing from him to me and setting my body alight.

  “What is this to you?” I asked, ignoring my anxiety.

  He looked at me quietly. The heat in his gaze didn't fade, but something else shimmered to life between us. His expression turned serious and intense. I straightened as I tucked my feet under my hips, rubbing the silky edge of my blouse between my fingers. I'd showered earlier and changed into something not completely tomboy—a fitted pair of jeans with flats and a silky blue blouse that Madison insisted made my eyes pop.

  I wanted to be more than Archer’s old childhood friend. I wanted to be something else other than the tomboyish woman who was a hotshot firefighter.

  “This, to me, is wanting someone more than I've ever wanted someone before. Needing someone when I never wanted to need anyone before.” I swallowed as emotion rushed through me at his words. “And frankly, I want you in my bed. I want to fuck you until you forget everything but me.”

  My brain cells went up in smoke as tingles radiated throughout my entire body. I could hear every resounding beat of my heart and the rush of blood through my ears as I stared at him. He saved me from having to speak. Considering I was shocked into silence, that was a small win.

  “This, to me, is wondering just how much this could be because we don't have to do all the hard stuff. When we were growing up, you were my best friend, and coming back has been so easy. I don’t trust many people in this world, but you've always been on that very short list. This started for different reasons, but it means a lot more to me now.”

  I sat in stunned silence while the fierceness of yearning I felt tightened inside.

  “Oh.” My word was found insubstantial between us, a raspy whisper.

  “Was that too much?” Archer asked. “Too honest?”

  Wordlessly, I shook my head. It felt as if Archer had come back into my life and walked into my heart, opening all the windows and doors and letting the sunshine flood in. I took a shaky breath.

  “What is this to you?” he asked.

  Of course, he had every right to ask that. But the question was terrifying because everything felt so big inside. Just having him back in my world felt like more than I ever could have imagined.

  “I didn't expect to want you like this. I didn't expect an edge like this, and now, it doesn't feel like a joke. Except maybe on me.” I shrugged.

  Archer moved swiftly. In a second, he was sitting beside me, his hand sliding over my knee. “None of this is a joke on you, Phoebe,” he whispered gruffly.

  His mouth descended to mine, and our kiss started slow and searching—a brush of lips, a kiss dropped on one corner of my mouth, and then the other, his hands sliding into my hair, and finally his mouth landing more fully on mine.

  I opened for him instantly. Letting Archer into my heart and into my world almost felt impossible to guard against. It felt as if he was learning me. Our kiss was probing—an exploration of tongues tangling, teeth nipping, hot, open, drawing away, words murmured, breaths shared, one liquid moment of need rolling into the next.

  The rush of blood pounding in my ears was all I could hear. Archer drew away, his silver-smoke eyes searching mine before skating over my face and dipping down. My nipples tightened at the feel of his gaze. I felt drawn tight, a jumble of sensation and emotion jostling against each other. As much as I wanted Archer—and oh, how I wanted him with a fierceness I couldn't hold back—the wanting was such a force it was as if a dam had cracked. What began as water seeping through slowly had turned into a roar. The gates of the dam long ago lost amidst the froth of the water. I felt raw and exposed because Archer knew me in a way few did. The comfort and familiarity had returned the moment we reconnected. Yet there was now this newness, all of these new emotions, and this depth of need and desire was unfamiliar and overwhelming. I'd never wanted anyone this much. A part of me felt as if I bordered on hysteria because I didn't know what to make of any of this.

  Archer’s eyes lifted again, his thick lashes sweeping upward. His gaze bored into mine, taking my already tattered breath away.

  “What?” I heard myself whisper breathlessly.

  He shook his head, just barely. “Nothing.”

  Somehow, I gathered a sense of composure amidst the tumult of passion and emotion. “I know you, just as you know me. That look wasn't nothing.”

  His gaze dipped down, and he bit the corner of his lip as a dry laugh rustled in his throat. Once again, I was held in the beam of his gaze. “So true. I suppose I didn't expect this.”

  I managed to roll my eyes. “Same.”

  As we stared at each other, that hysteria bubbled over, and I giggled. He laughed with me. In a matter of seconds, I was wiping tears from my eyes. The laughter was a profound relief. The desire hadn't abated, not in the least, but I'd somehow uncapped the lid on my emotions, and that pressure wasn't so intense anymore.

  Without thinking, I reached over and languidly trailed my fingertips along his forearm. Sweet Jesus, even his forearms were sexy. The corded muscles were tight under my light touch. I heard the hitch of his breath as I stroked my finger more purposely into the dip of his elbow and over the inside of his bicep.

  I managed to take a deep breath, almost as if I were bracing myself. Then I felt the hot shock of his mouth on mine again, and we tumbled into another deep, probing kiss. Layer upon layer of sensation built inside. His hand cupped my nape, and I savored the press of his fingertips before they eased and caressed my skin. Goose bumps rose in the wake of his touch. His fingers were swift and sure as he unbuttoned my blouse.

  Cool air struck my skin, and my eyes flew wide open when I let out a gasp. The heat in his eyes nearly undid me. He trailed his knuckles down my breastbone before unfurling his hand and cupping a breast. His thumb dragged over the taut, achy peak of my nipple. I arched reflexively into his touch, practically purring like a cat. I barely felt like myself. I was driven by fierce, elemental need.

  “Archer,” I whispered raggedly. “Please.”

  I didn't even know what I was begging for, but he answered with a nimble flick of his thumb between my breasts. My bra fell open. The sensation of cool air hitting my skin was followed almost instantly by his mouth closing, hot and wet, over a nipple. I speared my fingers in his hair when I cried out again, my hips rocking against his knee, which had somehow found its way between my thighs.

  He sucked lightly. I could feel the pull, like an electric sensation, straight from my nipple to my very core. Clenching tightly, I was wet. I shifted my thighs, anxious to do anything to relieve the achy need building there. When he drew away from my nipple, I felt the loss acutely and murmured something in protest.

  His low chuckle caused the rush of his breath against my skin just before he turned his attention to my other nipple. Another hot, wet shock, a deep pull, and the sharp graze of his teeth had me crying out. He lifted his head this time.

  My greedy side asserted itself. “Shirt off,” I ordered.

  His smile was quick. Just as I reached for the hem of his shirt, he hooked his hand on the collar behind his head and yanked it off in one swoop.

  I swallowed. Oh. My.

  Archer’s chest was a sight to behold. He was chiseled and cut with a smattering of hair that thinned before it arrowed down behind the waistband of his jeans. I instantly wanted those off. My hands were ahead of my brain as I leaned forward and tugged at the buttons of his fly.

  He distracted me temporarily by sliding his palm, his touch warm, over the curve of my belly. Ignoring him, I had his fly unbuttoned in no time and slipped a hand over the hard ridge of his arousal. The heat of it felt like a brand. I was gratified at the sound of his breath hissing through his teeth when he drew in a sharp breath.

 
I didn't wait before I slid my palm boldly over his length. I was almost startled at how confident I felt. I didn't care for once. My mind wasn't half distracted and dealing with a constant running ticker of what I needed to do.

  “Phoebe,” he bit out just as I shoved his jeans down far enough to tug his boxers out of the way.

  His cock sprang free, and I curled my palm around it. The skin was velvety soft and silky hot. When a bead of cum rolled out the tip, I couldn't resist leaning forward and swiping it up with my tongue.

  Archer let out something between a growl and a sound of annoyance. I finally felt like I had the upper hand, even if I knew the feeling was fleeting. I smiled up at him. “Give me a minute,” I murmured before I leaned closer and swirled my tongue around the tip.

  I sucked him in deep, and his fingers laced roughly in my hair. I savored the subtle sting on my scalp when he choked out my name. I actually giggled—giggled!—around the thick length of his cock. A sense of power rolled through me when he murmured, “Phoebe.” His tone was laced with warning.

  I loved that I could make him feel this way. Drawing back slightly, I teased my tongue along the underside of his cock, dallying just below the thick crown. The length of him pulsed, and I tasted a spurt, the salty tang of his cum dancing over my tongue. His fingers tightened in my hair again when I drew back and sucked him in deeply once more.

  I had a hand curled just over the edge of his hip, and I felt his body shift into a shivering tightness before he let out another growl, my name following in a gruff shout as the salty heat of his release filled my mouth.

  I waited before slowly drawing away, biting my lip as I looked up at him. His eyes locked with mine. I watched as his breath came in heaves. It felt as if I were watching him pull himself back together. When his eyes darkened, I knew I was in for it.

  With one hand, he yanked his jeans back up. He didn't bother to button them, though. In another moment, I found myself spread across the couch as he deftly tugged my jeans down around my hips, dropping hot kisses over my belly. He murmured teasing, commanding words, and I shivered all over.

  “You’re mine now. Just you wait.”

  His hand curled over the edge of my panties, dragging them down while I kicked my jeans free. I cried out when I felt his fingers parting my folds and sliding inside me knuckle deep. My cry was a ragged whimper.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Archer

  I looked down at Phoebe, her honey-gold locks in a tousle on the couch cushions. Her nipples were pink and damp. Her belly trembled as she breathed raggedly.

  My breath bellowed, and my heart kicked like an echoing drum with every cell in my body reverberating to the rush of it. Her pussy clenched around my fingers. She was wet, so silky and soft. Leaning over, I gave in to the temptation to tease one of her nipples, my lips closing around it. I gave it a sharp suck, and her body bowed toward me.

  She murmured my name, the sound of it pleading. To be fair, I turned my attention to her other nipple. I wouldn't want it to feel left out. I smiled against her skin when she protested, “Archer.”

  Her tone was demanding and breathy. I loved that I could bring tough firefighter Phoebe to the point of pleading with me. I teased my fingers through her slippery folds, exploring, letting my thumb just glance over her clit. I mapped her belly with my lips—a kiss, a nip, lingering over the trembling surface. She was fit—strong and sturdy. Yet somehow, she was so feminine and soft. She couldn't hide the lush give of her hips and the soft curves of her breasts.

  Her skin was flushed pink with a dewy sheen. Despite the fact she’d just brought me to a searing release, I was enthralled by her, twisted tightly with need.

  Yet I'd made a promise to myself. Maybe what we were doing was crazy. Maybe I was risking one of the best friendships I'd ever had in my life. But I was going to save one thing for our wedding night.

  I sank my fingers deep inside her, stretching and testing. Finally, finally, I let myself taste her. I already knew the tease of it after cleaning her arousal off my fingers the last time. I hooked one of her knees under my hand as I lifted it, baring her to me. She was pink and quivering. I blew lightly on her sex, a sizzle of satisfaction jolting me when she trembled and her fingers clenched into the couch cushion beneath her.

  I licked into the very core of her. Her hips bucked roughly under my touch, so I gripped her hip to hold her steady. Fuck, she tasted good—salty and tangy. I dallied, letting my tongue draw a lazy circle around the swollen bud of her clit. I loved every sound she made—these little whimpers and ragged cries interspersed with my name and then, oh my god, please.

  I could only draw it out for so long because Phoebe was magnificent like this, the way her body flexed under my touch, the way she trembled and shivered. I fucked her with my fingers, lifting my eyes to watch as she got closer and closer to the edge, and then demanded, “Archer. Now!”

  Once again, I dipped my head and sucked lightly on her clit when I buried my fingers inside her. She drew tight and then shuddered roughly, my name following her keening cry. I stayed with her until she relaxed underneath me.

  When I lifted my head, my heart kicked up its speed again, and my breath caught in my throat. Phoebe bare before me, flushed and strong, replete in her passion, was a sight to behold. I slowly drew my fingers out of her and shifted upward. I slid between her and the back of the couch, and she curled against me, soft and warm.

  My heart was still pounding in a restless beat. Thundering emotions rushed through me like a storm. I smoothed her hair away from her face, forcing myself to look at her even though I was almost afraid. I feared what she might see in my eyes. Her gold-tipped lashes lifted, and she rolled her head to the side. We stared at each other quietly.

  “Well,” she whispered.

  “Well,” I repeated, curling my lips into a smile.

  She returned my smile, but after a moment, her gaze sobered. She lifted a hand, tracing her fingers lightly along my collarbone before rocking her hips slightly against me. She opened her mouth, starting with, “We should go to the bedroom.”

  “We can, but we’re sleeping,” I said, my words coming out firm.

  She blinked. “Why?”

  “I told you. I want to save one thing for our wedding night.”

  My stomach tightened up at being honest, but I’d already been honest, so I might as well stay with it.

  “It’s silly,” she said, her mouth twisting a little.

  “Maybe, but it’s one thing to save just for us.”

  “Should I remind you this all started as a marriage of convenience? Some people might even say it’s fake,” she pointed out.

  “Maybe that’s why it started, but the way I feel isn’t fake at all. Tell me the way you feel is,” I said bluntly, holding her gaze.

  Pink crested high on her cheeks, and she shook her head. “I’m not going to lie.”

  “I’m not sleeping alone. By the time the wedding rolls around, we won’t be able to wait, and it’ll be a miracle if we make it through more than a few minutes of the reception.”

  Phoebe giggled, and the sound spun around my heart.

  “Nothing else is off-limits, just sex?” she clarified.

  “Just the full act. That’s all.”

  When I slid my hand over her belly, I realized she had goosebumps. “You’re cold.”

  “I’m half-naked,” she pointed out.

  I rolled to a sitting position as she straightened. I wanted to bundle her into my arms, take her to bed, and forget my ridiculous idea about saving sex for our wedding night.

  “They’ve already unpacked your clothes,” I commented.

  “They did?” She looked surprised.

  At my nod, she leaped up and hurried across the living room.

  Damn. The sight of her lush bottom bouncing as she strode quickly away from me sent a jolt of blood straight to my cock. This was going to be an interesting four days.

  Chapter Twenty

  Phoebe


  I was warm—so, so warm—and I burrowed closer into the source of the heat. The sound of my own sleepy, happy sigh woke me. My awareness came in fragments. It was dark when my eyes blinked open. My palm was resting on someone’s chest. The haze of sleep faded, and awareness clicked into place.

  That warm, hard chest belonged to Archer. The events of the night before came rushing back. My skin prickled, and my body crackled with awareness and recognition. The memories were grounded in sensation—all of it good and all of it unsettling.

  I was curled up, practically latched on to Archer like a barnacle. My knee was thrown over his thigh, my breasts were mushed against the side of his chest, and my head was tucked into the curve of his shoulder. As much as I didn't want to admit it or really even contemplate it, it felt so good. I was so often cold when I slept that I had resigned myself to that reality.

  I loved my home state of Alaska, but it meant cold winters, and February was the coldest time of the year. We were deep into winter with everything holding tight to stay warm enough to survive. Although humans had heat and housing, I still believed our primal instincts kicked in. My body knew winter was cold, no matter how many blankets I had.

  Archer was the best source of heat ever. We weren't completely naked. He was wearing a pair of boxers, and I wore a tank top and a soft pair of leggings, which Archer teased me about sleeping in until I told him I always got cold. His lips had kicked up at one corner in a lazy smile when he replied, “I don't think you'll be cold. I'm always hot.”

  I smiled to myself in the darkness. He was generous with his warmth, and it was free. It wasn't like turning up the heat and dealing with a high bill. Of course, there were potential consequences to my sanity, our friendship, and my heart. That price might be more than I could ever pay. I mentally scurried away from that train of thought.