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Archer slumped in his desk chair. He was glad Derrek was on the clock today, watching the front counter. With any luck, he could keep it that way a bit longer. He stared at the paperwork in front of him. He had Gwen draw up a contract. His lawyer looked at it—he’d be paying that bill off for a while—and it was all legit. Except for the bit about the costumes. The details weren’t in the contract. How he got them was up to him. Gwen had offered again to talk to Tori, if he no longer had that option.
But he had to give it another try. He had to call Tori. No, he had to show up on her doorstep again. Not because of the business stuff; they could talk about that later. If there was a chance. He had to... What?
A knock cut through his thoughts before they could build steam, and he looked up. His heart leaped when he saw Tori, and then plummeted at her flat expression.
She wore a denim skirt that only reached halfway down her thighs, and her T-shirt hugged every inch of her torso perfectly. And she was very distinctly keeping her distance, as much as was possible in the small room. The corners of her eyes tugged down. “Can we talk?”
Yes. Definitely yes. He gestured to a chair. “Have a seat.”
She closed the door and leaned against it, instead of sitting.
“Tori, I’m so, so—”
“Me first.” Her voice wavered. “Please, let me say what I need to. If you really have to interrupt, I can’t stop you, but I need to get this out.”
The empty pit, which had moved into his chest, wasn’t sure what to do. Moan some more about being empty or slink away. He gave her a small smile. “Of course.”
She clenched and unclenched her hand. “I love you.” The words tumbled out in a single blur.
He couldn’t have heard her right. Should he ask her to repeat herself? Was he projecting? He didn’t get a chance to reply.
She stood straighter. “I love you.” There was no mistaking the words that time. They echoed in the tiny box of a room. “It’s not something I can simply cut off. And I know I wasn’t supposed to fall, it was just supposed to be sex, and I did anyway, and it—you mean so much more to me than a couple of tumbles. When I said I didn’t want any ghosts between us, I should have been more specific, and that’s my fault, but I’m telling you now, and I meant it, and I mean this and... Do with it what you will. But I had to tell you.”
The empty pit slid away, something bright taking its place. There was still an ache, but he was pretty sure this wasn’t a bad one. He wasn’t positive—it was a new sensation for him—but he was willing to give it a chance. He was on his feet in an instant, stepping toward her. “You know I love you, too.”
“There’s a problem though.” She held up a hand and rested her palm flat on his chest, and stopped him from closing the distance. The flatness was gone from her expression, replaced with a frown. That didn’t look right. “I miss you desperately, and I love you so much, and I still don’t know how to fix this thing between us.”
The words dug deep. He wanted to argue. Wanted to fall to his knees and insist there was no one but her. He wrapped his fingers around the delicate hand on his chest and pulled it away, not letting go and not stepping closer. A bit of relief joined his frustration when she didn’t yank away from his touch.
“I love you so much, and I would do anything for you. I meant what I said the other night.” He poured all of his sincerity into the words.
The hard lines in her forehead softened, and a smile crept onto her face. She moved nearer to him.
His hope poked its head again and peered around. He pressed forward. “I was wrong. About Riley, about Elliot... about so much. And I want to make it up to you, if you give me a chance.”
“I guess.” Her tone was reluctant, but her seductive smirk contradicted it. She draped her arms around his neck and nudged him back with her body. “If you really want to make it up to me, I know a good way to start.”
He rested his hands at the small of her back, holding her captive. Every nerve in his body came alive, raw from the sudden shift in moods, and looking for an outlet. He dipped his head and kissed her hard, crushing his lips against his teeth, and memorizing each curve and contour pressed against him. They broke apart with a gasp. “You know Derrek’s not that far away, right?” he asked.
“And your point is? What happened to doing anything?”
He nipped at her shoulder. He adored how wicked she was. “I still will. Anything you tell me.”
“I’m aware.” She tilted her head back, giving him easier access to her neck. She sighed when he kissed up the soft skin. “I missed this.”
He had, too. Everything about her, from her soft scent to the sounds that tore from her throat, made him want to strip her down, push her on the desk, and make her scream. But it was more important to draw the moment out and give her whatever she asked for.
She tugged at the bottom of his shirt, scraping his waist with her nails and sending tremors of want through him. “This is in the way.”
He tugged the shirt over his head, not caring when he felt something on it give and tear, and then tossed it aside.
She looked him over, brown eyes appreciative. “Better.” She trailed her fingers along his bare chest, making his pulse scream. With every light kiss she placed on his skin, his cock grew another degree harder. When she flicked her tongue out and brushed his nipple, he thought he might explode.
She stepped back, one corner of her mouth tugged up in a mischievous grin. She grabbed the bottom of her shirt and discarded it. Her hair tumbled around her shoulders in soft waves, caressing the top of a lacy bra.
Gaze never leaving his face, she reached behind her. Seconds later, the cups holding her breasts tumbled loose, and she let the white lingerie drop onto a nearby chair.
He grabbed her fingers and tugged her to him again. He rested his palm on her stomach, and then slid it lower. “I love watching you.”
“Convenient. I love being watched.” Her laugh was light and teasing.
He kissed her again, memorizing every inch of her lips against his. He pushed his tongue into her mouth, and it danced and intertwined with hers. She shifted her weight against him, bare breasts caressing his chest.
He glided his hand up her ribcage. Her skin was smooth under his palm. He cupped a plump mound and kneaded softly. Every whimper tearing from her throat hit a gorgeous note.
She used her body to move him, turning them both until she was behind his desk, back to his chair. She nudged him away, and disappointment washed over him when all contact between them broke. His fingers twitched by his side, begging to reach for her.
She slid her thumbs up her legs, pushed up the edges of her denim skirt, and then bent at the waist, to drag her panties down.
His cock throbbed inside his jeans, straining to feel her when she held the undergarment up. She tossed it on his desk. Never touching him, she whispered in his ear, “I want to feel your mouth on my pussy.”
“Let me taste you, then.” He loved hearing her talk like that, and he was ready to drop to his knees for her.
She pushed onto the edge of his desk. She hooked her finger into his belt and tugged.
He tangled his fingers in her hair and yanked her head back, to kiss her hard. Her teeth scraped his bottom lip. She rested her hands on his shoulders and pushed him away, coaxing him to kneel.