Our kisses are sloppy as we back away from the door, navigating through the living room, down the hall, and into my bedroom.
“Jesus, Phoebe. You’re killing me.” Archer closes the door and pushes me against it, thrusting his hard length into my fist. “Don’t blame me when I come all over your hand like an eager teenager.”
I snort a surprised chuckle. “Noted.”
Archer buries his face in my neck, licking and sucking the sensitive spot behind my ear, making my knees weak. “Not fair,” I gasp. “You said you hardly remembered anything from that night.”
He smiles against my throat. “Oh, I remember a few things. Like how much you loved having this spot of your neck kissed.” He thrusts into my hand again, pushing me against the door. “I also recall a little something about this spot right here.” He slides a hand down and cups one breast, his thumb brushing the nipple through my shirt and bra.
My head drops back and hits the door behind me.
“And I know another spot you like even better.” He thrusts into my hand once more before pulling back, forcing me to release him. “But I think you’re going to need a few less clothes if we’re going to find that spot.” He traces my collarbone with a finger, and a shiver races through me. “Can I undress you, Phoebe?”
I nod three, four, fives times.Geez, Phoebe. Calm down. That’s way too much nodding.“Yes. Undress me. Excellent idea.”
He chuckles and slides his hands under the hem of my shirt, making quick work of dragging it over my head, throwing it onto the floor behind him before moving on to my pants. When I’m left standing in only my bra and underwear, he devours me with his gaze, top to bottom, before settling on my face.
“Fuck, Phoebe. You’re more beautiful than I remember.”
I can’t help the disbelieving snort that escapes me. “I’m kind of glad you were drunk that night. If you remembered how I really looked then, there’s no way you’d be saying I look beautiful now, not with all these stretch marks. Never mind the extra weight that won’t budge.”
He frowns and takes my face in his hands. “Listen to me, Phoebe. You are fucking beautiful. I don’t give a shit about stretch marks or any extra weight. I look at you and there isn’t a part of your body that I don’t want to kiss. That I don’t want to lick. That I don’t want to fuck.” He takes my lips in a punishing kiss. “And I won’t hear any different from you.”
“But…”
“Nope. Not having it. You’re fucking gorgeous and I’m dying to touch you.” He punctuates his statement by sliding his hands down to my waist and grinding against me. “Can you feel that? I’m so fucking turned on by you I’m about to come in my pants like a pubescent teen seeing his first pair of boobs.”
I choke out a surprised chuckle. “You can’t even see my boobs. I’m still wearing a bra.”Brilliant, Phoebe. You’re awesome at this dirty talk thing.
Archer lets out a low groan. “Well, then. We should fix that.” He trails a hand up my back, sparks igniting everywhere his fingers touch, and flicks open the clasp on my bra. With a finger hooked between the cups, Archer drags the bra down my arms and drops it to the floor. “There. That’s better.”
He palms my breasts, the rightness of it making me weak. Heaviness builds in my belly and wetness floods my underwear. A pinch to my nipples sends a shock straight to my clit and I’m transported to that hotel room a year ago, where a sexy Santa Claus was the one taking me to bed.
Oh. My. Santa.
Chapter 34
Freaking Finally and Freaking Out
Archer
I’mthankfulfortheanger that swells in me at Phoebe thinking she’s not the most fucking beautiful woman in the world all because of a few silly stretch marks. I know, I know. That’s stupid. But if it weren’t for being mad, I’d have come in my jeans as soon as I got her out of her clothes and got a look at her matching black bra and panties.
There’s nothing particularly fancy about them. The fabric looks to be plain cotton, and the panties are perilously close to being granny panties. But the swells of her breasts over the cups of the bra leave me breathless. And the way the panties hug her hips and skim along the narrowing of her waist is sexier than any thong I’ve ever seen.Ugh.
Yeah. I’m pissed that she doesn’t know how gorgeous she is.
I grab her by the hips and grind my erection into her belly, loving the gasp that slips from her lips. “Can you feel that? I’m so fucking turned on by you I’m about to come in my pants like a teenage boy seeing his first pair of boobs.”
She chuckles. “You can’t see my boobs. I’m still wearing a bra.”
“Well, we can’t have that.” I drag my fingers up her back, making her shiver beneath my touch, and open the clasp on her bra. I hook a finger at the fabric between her breasts, where the cups of her bra meet, and pull down, exposing her to me. “There. That’s better.”
I swallow roughly as I drag my gaze over her breasts. Her dusky pink nipples stiffen under my scrutiny, her chest flushing beneath my gaze. She looks like my every fantasy come to life. And she is, since I’ve just now realized every fantasy I’ve had over the last year has been about her. I may not have remembered exactly what she looked like, and she may look a little different now, but there’s no denying that every dream I had was about her.
My hands trace the line of her waist, skimming up her ribcage before testing the weight of her breasts in my hands. I could do this all fucking day. Her pink nipples beg me to pinch them, so I do.
Her gasp makes my dick swell impossibly, painfully, harder.
