Accidentally on Purpose, Page 25

  they wanted was for him to do the same. “We do this my way,” he warned. “Which means you’re both still staying with me.” He looked at Morgan. “No more vanishing. If you leave this building, you go together or you take one of my men with you.”

  “Can I have the cute one with the tats?” Morgan asked.

  “Reyes?” he asked. “Definitely not.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’ll eat him alive,” Archer said.

  “Well of course I will,” Morgan said on a laugh. “But I promise you he’ll like it.”

  Elle rolled her eyes.

  Morgan cocked her head in her sister’s direction, still looking at Archer. “You must be doing something wrong if that annoys her. Need some pointers?”

  Archer was rethinking his stance on strangling her when she laughed again and stood up. “Okay, I’m going upstairs to earn my keep.” She paused. “But I just want to say again . . . I’m sorry. I know that’s not good enough, that I should’ve trusted you sooner. But I really am sorry.”

  And then she was gone.

  “You do too much for me. I hate that you’re doing this too,” Elle said.

  “You do plenty for me in return.”

  “Such as?” she asked.

  “Keep me human.”

  She looked a little stunned at the admission and he couldn’t say he didn’t feel the same. He stood up, dropped some money into Tina’s tip jar, and then pulled Elle out of the shop. He tugged her past the fountain and into Old Man Eddie’s alley, thankful to find it empty.

  Gently he pressed Elle up against the brick wall and kissed her. It was a relentless need, driven by worry for her safety, by the strange sensations in his chest that flooded him at her nearness, and by a driving need to wrap her up in his arms and never let go.

  Elle surprised him by seeming to have the same need because she wrapped her arms around him just as tight and deepened the kiss. When her tongue touched his, her taste invaded his senses and he lost his mind a little bit. He wanted to eat her up. Every inch of her.

  She pulled away breathless, shaking her head as if to clear it, laughter glinting in her blue eyes. “Trying to kiss some sense into me?” she asked, her fingers still tangled in his hair.

  “Trying to kiss some sense into me.” God’s truth. “You’re killing me here. You need me safe, right?”

  “Of course,” she said.

  “So can you try to understand that I have the same need for you?”

  She studied him intently and then slowly nodded. “Yes.”

  He trailed a finger down the curve of her cheek, across her lips, and down her throat, absorbing her shiver with his body. “Is that a yes, you’ll let me keep you safe?”

  “Yes, I’ll try not to kill you while you do.”

  She was playing, but he wasn’t. Couldn’t. He cupped her face. “Tell me you understand.”

  Still not breathing all that steadily, she nodded. “I do. Just as you should understand that if there’s any dirt on my backside from this alley wall, you owe me a new dress.”

  That night Elle stared at the L-shaped couch in Archer’s living room. It was comfy but if she was being honest with herself, she didn’t want to even bother with the pretense of getting ready to sleep on it.

  Once again, Archer was in the shower. Morgan was on the couch, watching her with a knowing smirk.

  “Shut up,” Elle said, and she stalked into Archer’s bedroom, shutting the door harder than strictly necessary.

  She climbed up on the great big mattress and got under the warm bedding, hugging Archer’s pillow to her face, inhaling his scent deeply. God, he smelled amazing. If she could bottle it, she’d make a million bucks . . . She didn’t know how long she’d lain there drifting on that thought when she realized she wasn’t alone in the room. And given the way her nipples got happy, she knew exactly who’d joined her.

  Chapter 22

  #HashtagGettingLucky

  Archer stopped short at the sight of Elle facedown on his bed, apparently trying to inhale his pillow. She froze as if sensing him, and rolled onto her back.

  “Your bed is comfortable,” she said.

  “Thanks, Goldilocks.” Smiling, he moved to the edge of the bed, admiring the sight of her in it. “Were you just sniffing my pillow?”

  “No.” She sighed. “Maybe a little. You always smell so good.” She sat up and let the covers fall to her hips. She was in one of his T-shirts and—he was hoping—nothing else.

  “Tired?” she asked.

  “Not even a little,” he said as he sat on the bed, planting a hand on either side of her hips, caging her in.

  She pulled him in and he let her roll him to his back and pin him to the mattress. She was looking quite determined as she bent over him, holding his hands down on either side of his head.

  “I wanted to surprise you,” she said, shaking her head like she was surprised herself. “I don’t even like surprises.”

  He flashed a grin. “But you like me.”

  She shook her head again. “In spite of myself.”

  He flexed his hands beneath hers but let her hold him down. “You seem like a woman with a plan.”

  “I always have a plan. But this one involves us being”—she wriggled on him and he bit back a groan—“very quiet.” Then she oscillated her hips and the T-shirt rose up high enough on her thighs to flash him a tantalizing view of heaven on earth. “Can you be very quiet, Archer?” she murmured, bending over him to nip at his jaw.

  “I was born quiet.” He slid his hands from hers and up her shirt to cup her bare ass, wrenching a very satisfying moan from her throat. “I think the real question is—can you be quiet?”

  She bit her lower lip, clearly remembering just how not quiet she was whenever he got his hands or mouth on her. It made him grin. “Lose the shirt, Elle.”

  “My plan, remember?” And then she grasped his hands, pressing them to her breasts. “All you have to do is lie there and look pretty.”

  He choked out a laugh that turned into another groan when she slowly lifted the shirt over her head, leaving her in nothing but smooth, soft skin and seriously mouth-watering curves.

  “You’re gorgeous,” he said reverently. “The best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He met her gaze. “I’ve never wanted anything or anyone the way I want you.”

  She faltered for a beat as if stunned by this statement. “Morgan said I don’t let emotions rule me,” she said. “And she’s right—”

  “No, she’s not—”

  “She is,” she insisted. “But I feel when I’m with you, Archer. I feel . . . hungry. As in my mouth actually waters for you.” Then she leaned down and whispered in his ear. “And I plan on tasting every . . . single . . . inch . . .”

  He pulled in a ragged breath as she traced the shell of his ear with the tip of her tongue. She then spent the next several moments touching every inch of his body with her mouth, leaving the sole part that ached most for her until very last.

  By the time she placed her mouth on him he was no longer coherent. And moments later, as the world spiraled out of control, it was apparent that she not only owned his body, she was also the keeper of his soul.

  The next morning Elle sat straight up in bed and found Archer standing by his dresser buck naked, searching through a drawer. He pulled on black knit boxers, cargo pants, and a black T-shirt. Then he walked to a wall safe and began to strap on weapons. Glock on his right hip. Knife clipped to the inside of one of his pockets. Cell in another pocket. Black baseball cap on backward, boots on and laced up, flak vest strapped across his chest and back.

  Why this turned her on so much, she had no idea but she could scarcely breathe for wanting him.

  When he was loaded for bear, he turned and caught her staring at him, probably drooling, and his eyes darkened.

  “Say the word,” he said, “and it all comes back off. You’ll be late for class, very late, but I’ll make it worth your while.”

 
She felt herself go damp and was so tempted she had to bite her tongue to keep the “oh yes, please” in.

  Apparently reading her mind, Archer started toward her with sexy, wickedly dirty intent blazing in his hot eyes. He got to the bed just as a knock came on the bedroom door.

  “Hurry up, bitches,” Morgan yelled through the door. “I need the shower.”

  Archer groaned and dropped his forehead to Elle’s shoulder.

  “You should’ve let me kill her,” she said.

  At the end of the day, Elle was still at her desk when her phone went off with a text.

  Morgan: I’m staying in the building instead of heading to Archer’s with you. Got plans.

  Elle: What plans?

  Morgan: Poker game in the basement at seven.

  Elle: No. Hell, no. I refuse to let you grift my friends out of their money.

  Morgan: I won’t cheat! The sexy geek said he’ll bring me to Archer’s afterward. Okay with you, MOM?

  Elle: Don’t even think about sleeping with Spence.

  Morgan: Aw. Worried about me?

  Elle: Worried about HIM.

  Morgan’s response was the middle finger emoji. Elle rolled her eyes and stood up to get ready to leave when her phone buzzed again, a call this time.

  “You hanging in there?” Archer asked.

  She could hear the exhaustion in his voice. “Better than you, it sounds like. How about dinner?”

  “You cooking?” he asked with such wistful hope that she was caught off guard.

  “Yes,” she said, then she stilled in shock. Yes? Was she insane? “I’m leaving now.”

  “With Morgan?”

  “No, she’s staying for tonight’s poker game.”

  “Take Joe,” Archer said. “Give him five minutes to get to you.”

  “Not necessary.”

  “There’s a missing dickwad out there sending his goons after you and your sister,” Archer said. “Humor me.”

  Three minutes later, Joe was at her door. “I’ve gotta stop at the grocery store,” Elle warned. They got under way and after a while she eyeballed him. “I don’t suppose you know how to cook?”

  “Hell yeah I know how to cook,” he said. “It attracts the ladies.”

  She rolled her eyes and dragged him into the store with her. “Help me pick out something that an idiot could cook and still impress someone.”

  He grinned. “You going to seduce boss man tonight?”

  “None of your business. Can you help me or what?”

  He set her up with a pack of steaks, potatoes, and a ready-made salad. “Doesn’t get better than barbequed steak and potato, and a little green to make you feel healthy,” he said.

  “I don’t know how to barbeque,” she said.

  “You turn a knob, toss these babies on the grill, wait a few minutes and then flip them over. Trust me, you’ll have that man eating out of the palm of your hand.” He flashed a grin. “Or wherever you want him eating . . .”

  She gave him a long look.

  This didn’t faze him in the slightest. “Call me if you have any problems.” He walked her into Archer’s place, checked for monsters in all the corners, declared her good to go, and left her alone.

  Elle walked out the living room sliding-glass door and stared at the biggest barbeque she’d ever seen. There was indeed a knob on it. As well as instructions engraved on the steel side. Turn on gas. Point knob to desired flame height. Grill.

  “Easy enough,” she said out loud. She turned on the gas. She heard it hiss out. Then she cranked the knob and—

  Whooomph.

  The flame ripped out from beneath the grill and just about took her eyelashes and eyebrows along with it. “Holy shit!” she gasped, leaping back, tripping over a lounge chair, and falling to her ass on the deck. Sitting there, she reached up to touch her face.

  Still there.

  Relieved, she got to her feet and studied the flame before turning it down a little. Note to self: men are stupid. Five minutes later she had the steaks and the potatoes on the grill.

  “Take that, Iron Chef,” she murmured as she poured herself a very big glass of wine. She went back onto the deck and stared down at the busy streets below, at the marina past that, and the gorgeous bay. The view made her sigh with pleasure. If she had this view, she’d never leave. She’d take off her heels and curl up on the chair and watch the world go by.

  Which, in the end, is exactly what she did. She kicked off her heels, hiked up her dress enough to get comfy, and took in the view as she sipped her wine, feeling damn content and righteous as hell that she’d made dinner with her own hands for the man she . . . well. Wasn’t that a little complicated? She liked him. A lot. She also admired his strength, both inside and out. He was smart, self-made, and when he chose to be, funny as hell.

  And yeah, she possibly, maybe, probably loved him.

  She leaned back and closed her eyes at that terrifying thought while images flashed through her mind. Archer giving her that just-for-her smile that very morning, the smile that said he got her . . . and damn but he did always seem to get her, in a way no one else ever had. Archer, ticked after that distraction job and yet he’d still taken her into his arms on the dance floor, rocking her to that slow song. Rocking her world while he was at it because there was no one who could make her as crazy as he did, and no one else on the planet who could make her feel as much as he did either. Archer, busting into her office, willing to put his life and limb on the line to save hers, always, without question . . .

  The only thing more shocking than that was that she knew she’d do the same for him . . .

  She had no idea how many minutes later she jerked awake. The smell came to her first, charbroiled meat. The smoke came next. And then when she whipped her head around, she saw the flames shooting out of the barbeque.

  She flew to her feet, stubbing her toe on the leg of the barbeque as she slammed the lid of it down and cranked the knobs to off before crouching low to turn off the gas below as well.

  By the time she straightened, the flames had died.

  And so had the black lumps that had been the steak and potatoes.

  Dead. She’d killed them dead. Reaching out, she picked up one charred lump, burned her finger, and dropped it. With a sigh, she shoved her hair back from her sweaty face—the heat coming off the barbeque was surely giving her a sunburn—and whipped out her phone. “You suck,” she said to Joe.

  “Only if you ask real nice,” he said.

  Ungh! “I burned everything!”

  “Did you trim the fat?” he asked. “Keep the flame on medium? Turn the steaks after three to four minutes? Immediately remove from the flames?”

  No, no, no, and a solid no. She disconnected on him and went hands on hips, staring down at the mess. Then she whipped her phone back up and called her favorite Italian restaurant, which delivered. She placed an order, offering to double the tip if they rushed it.

  By the time she’d cleaned up the barbeque mess and discarded the evidence, the food had arrived. The delivery guy had a ready smile that faltered at the sight of her. Not having time to give that a single thought, she paid him and went into the kitchen to dish everything out onto plates and set the table.