The first brush of his lips against hers was tentative, questioning. Morgan responded immediately, her hands finding his shoulders, solid and strong beneath his shirt. Encouraged, Archer deepened the kiss, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other settling at her waist.
Then—oh god—something unexpected and hard slid along her bottom lip. Morgan gasped, pulling back slightly.
“You have a tongue piercing,” she said, surprise and arousal mingling in her voice.
She felt rather than saw his smile. “I do. Problem?”
“God, no,” she breathed, pulling him back to her.
This time when they kissed, she was ready for it—the smooth metal stud sliding against her tongue, adding an unexpected dimension to each stroke and caress. Her mindimmediately raced to imagine how that piercing would feel elsewhere, the thought alone nearly making her come undone.
As if reading her mind, Archer chuckled low in his throat. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you? Where else I could use this.”
“Yes,” she admitted, her cheeks heating beneath the mask.
His hands slid beneath her sweater, warm against the bare skin of her waist. “I’ve been thinking about it too,” he confessed. “Since the moment I saw you.”
Morgan reached for him blindly, her fingers finding the buttons of his shirt. He let her work them open, his breathing growing heavier as she pushed the fabric aside and explored the planes of his chest, the hard ridges of muscle, the scattered pattern of hair that narrowed into a trail disappearing beneath his waistband.
“Bedroom?” he suggested, his voice strained.
“Yes,” she agreed immediately.
Archer swept her into his arms without warning, causing her to let out a girlish giggle. He carried her through her apartment with confident steps as their tongues tangled in a heated rush. He’d memorized the layout, she realized—every doorway, every potential obstacle.
He set her on the bed with unexpected gentleness, then guided her to lie back against the pillows. The mattress dipped as he joined her, his weight a welcome pressure as he settled beside her.
“May I?” he asked, fingers playing with the hem of her sweater.
Morgan nodded, then gave a verbal response. “Yes. Please.”
He drew the sweater over her head carefully, ensuring the sleep mask remained in place. The cool air raised goosebumps on her skin, her nipples hardening beneath her simple cotton bra.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, tracing the curve of her collarbone with one finger. “So beautiful.”
His lips followed the path of his finger, trailing fire across her skin. When he reached the swell of her breast, he paused, his breath hot against her.
“This too?” he asked, fingers tracing the edge of her bra.
“Everything,” Morgan whispered. “I want everything.”
His chuckle was delicious and dark, sending another wave of goosebumps up her spine and over her arms.
The clasp gave way beneath his skilled fingers, and then her bra was gone, leaving her exposed to his gaze. Though blindfolded, Morgan could feel the weight of his attention—a tangible heat moving over her body.
“I’ve dreamed about this,” he admitted, palming one breast gently.
“About what?” she managed, arching into his touch.
“About seeing you. Touching you.” His thumb brushed over her nipple, drawing a sharp gasp from her lips. “Tasting you.”
Then his mouth was on her neck, hot and wet, the metal of his tongue piercing a shocking contrast against her sensitive skin, working his way down to lick against the hardened nub of her right breast. Morgan moaned, her fingers tangling in his hair—short, thick, with a slight wave to it, her mind cataloged distantly.
Archer lavished attention on each breast in turn, alternating between gentle suction and the firm pressure of his tongue, the piercing adding an exquisite edge to every sensation. By the time he began trailing kisses down her stomach, Morgan was writhing beneath him, desperate for more.
His kisses trailed down and he drew her leggings and underwear down in one smooth motion, leaving her completely naked while he remained half-dressed. The vulnerability of it—blind, exposed, wanting—sent a thrill through her that was equal parts vulnerability and arousal.
Archer’s hands slid up her calves, her thighs, gently encouraging her legs to part for him. “I want to taste you,” he said, his voice deeper than she’d ever heard it.
