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Tori blocked out everything except the physical sensations of the now—Archer’s skin against her thighs, his thick shaft in her hand, and the spark of pleasure that rocked through her every time she stroked her clit with the head of his cock.
She rocked against him. It was good, but it wasn’t enough. She positioned him at her opening and then dropped down. A cry of pleasure tore from her throat when he plunged deep inside her.
“Fuck, Tori.” His hands traveled up her back.
The new sensation mingled with the others, making her head swim. She didn’t trust herself to speak. That entailed accessing parts of her brain she didn’t want participating. But the deep current cutting through his voice heightened her arousal.
She locked her gaze on him again, losing herself in the sharp hazel staring back. She rocked against him, feeling the pressure build inside. His grunts told her he was close to climaxing. He dropped his hands to her hips again, keeping the rhythm from increasing.
She trailed her fingers down her own stomach, more heat flooding her when he followed her movement with his gaze. She dipped between her legs and found her clit. The swollen button pulsed at her touch, and her building orgasm pushed past whatever held it back.
He picked up the pace, pounding against her hard as she came. She clenched around his shaft, drawing more short groans from him. A moment later, he thrust inside her one final time and stopped.
Tori rested her head on Archer’s chest, listening to his heart and panting. Cool air rushed in around her, brushing the thin sheen of sweat on her skin.
He softened and dropped out of her, and still they sat pressed together. She wasn’t sure how much time passed. It was such an exhausting day. All the energy seeped from her, as safety surrounded her.
Why couldn’t she stay like this forever? Just them—no work, no exes, no anything else. She was so tired of it all. Her eyes drifted shut.
“Hey.” Archer’s soft voice nudged the edge of her consciousness. Her eyelids refused to budge, like they’d been dipped in glue. She pried them open and blinked a few times, trying to find some moisture, before she sat up.
He traced a thumb over her cheek, watching her, his brows knit together. “I think you fell asleep.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
“It’s okay. Can you stand?”
She nodded, wobbling as he helped her to her feet. He wrapped an arm around her waist and nudged her toward the bedrooms. She didn’t protest when he steered her into his, instead of the guest room.
He helped her crawl into bed and climbed in next to her. She curled up next to him. He trailed his fingers through her hair. Damn it. She was getting used to this. And she didn’t mind at all. It would be okay. He’d promised.
*
ARCHER EXTRACTED HIMSELF from Tori’s sleeping form, careful not to wake her. It had been years since he’d seen her so lighthearted and stress-free. Her hair draped across her face and over the pillow, haloing out around her. Please let her sleep well. She deserved it.
He wanted to stay wrapped up with her, but it was early afternoon, and he had phone calls to make. The first one was on his speed dial—number three. He probably needed to bump it up a slot. That could wait, though.
“Do I answer? Do I ignore you? Do I tell you to fuck off? What would you do if you were me?” Zane’s tone was flat, as it traveled over the lines.
That could’ve gone worse. Archer collapsed onto the couch and dropped his elbows to his knees. “Hear me out? Give a friend a chance to apologize?”
“Dude. You hit on my fiancée every fucking chance you get. One, you’d pound my face into the dirt if you were me, and two, it’s not me you have to apologize to.”
They were still talking; that was promising. “I know, but logic tells me she’s not going to take my call. That, and I don’t want the gesture misinterpreted, so I’m going through her big, bad bodyguard.”
“Apologize, make it good, and I may tell Riley. It’s still not up to me to forgive you, though.”
“I’m sorry.” Archer acknowledged the truth of the words as he spoke them. “For not respecting her decisions, for trying to control the conversation when she came by the other day, and for being an ass, overall.”
“You know what really got to her?”
Archer racked his brain. He’d covered all his bases in his apology, hadn’t he? “No?”
“You wanted to have The Pie deliver.”
“They have good pizza.”
“Not my point. The favor she wanted to ask didn’t have to do with using your shop. She wanted you to make that stupid onigiri and those bean-paste-filled buns you make for anime club. Not only did you not let her finish, you wanted to order cheap, greasy pizza for her book launch.”
“I’m sorry. Really? She wanted me to cook? Riley can cook.” Archer leaned back against the couch, flopping his head back to lock his gaze on the ceiling.
“Cookies, pot pies, sure, she can cook. But not that stuff.”
“Understood. So if I apologize and promise to make snacks, I don’t suppose she still needs a venue?”
“Why?” Zane sounded suspicious.
Archer winced, glad no one could see him. He hated to admit he needed help, but it had to be done. “The shop is suffering, sales are down, and I’m hoping an afternoon of your fiancée’s sparkling presence and gorgeous comics will bump sales for a day or two.”
“Did you just...? Are you really...?”
Archer snarled silently at the receiver. “I’m sorry I was an ass to Riley. She doesn’t deserve that. I don’t know what got into me, and I didn’t mean anything by it. I know the two of you are happy together. A fucking blind man could see that. And I’m asking for help. Please?”
“Yeah, I’ll talk to her. No guarantees, but it’ll probably be fine. Especially since she already said she’d do it if you stopped being an ass.”
Archer couldn’t hide his growl this time. “You were already going to say no big deal?”
“She’s a lot more forgiving than I am. And you know you deserve to grovel.”
“Yeah, all right. Let me know for sure. Thanks.”
“No worries.” The teasing and tension evaporated and were replaced with sincerity. “Talk to you soon.” Archer dropped his arms to his sides and let the phone tumble from his hand. That had gone a lot better than it could have. Now he had to convince himself he was willing to sign over his soul to Elliot. It would be better for Tori. Right? It would give her something to do, and the sponsorship offer was good money for both of them. Not that Tori needed money—that had to be a nice feeling—but she didn’t want to be idle, either.
He reached for his phone but dropped his hand again at the last minute. He needed a drink or something, before he made that call.
“Come back to bed?” Tori’s soft tone shattered any other thought.
He looked up to see her leaning out of the bedroom doorway in nothing but one of his button-down shirts, with none of the buttons done up. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, and he caught a flash of what was—and wasn’t—underneath. Fuck. He was so lucky to have her. He didn’t know what he would do if he lost her.
He shoved the string of thoughts to the back of his mind and smiled. “Of course.”