“Oh God.” She tips her head back and groans, her throat moving and throbbing beneath her racing pulse. “Archer.”
I bury myself to the hilt and bathe in her wet heat for a single beat, then, dragging my hips backwards, I stop at the tip and study her delicious juices sparkling on my dick, even in the shadows. “I knew from the first time I had you. You remember that night?” I charge forward and pin her to the wall, spearing her dripping pussy and taking what’s mine. “You remember way back then, before I knew I was supposed to be careful. How I bruised you?”
I set our rhythm and push through the burn in my thighs.
“Oh God, Archer.” She cries out and latches her lips ontomine. Our peak builds with blinding heat, too fast, too powerful, too all-encompassing. “It feels so good.”
“So fucking good.” I drive forward and crush her tailbone against the wall, her dress fluttering around us. When her thighs tremble, I bring my hand between us and circle her clit with the pad of my thumb.
“Archer!” She explodes, crushing my cock and locking me inside with her vise-like grip. Her release bursts between us, splashing against the floor and wetting my jeans, and because she commands it, because she hasalwayscommanded it, I follow her over the ledge and ride the hot streams of cum shooting from the tip of my cock and soaking her on the inside.
I claim her, just as I’ve claimed her almost every single day since the first, and when I risk dropping to my ass, I lean forward and squash her supple body against the wall. I lay my head on her shoulder and inhale the scent of my home. My heart. My fucking will to live.
Her pulse thunders beneath her skin. Her lungs, struggling to expand under my weight. I’m hurting her, I know, and if I’m not careful, I know my knees will give out and send us both to the floor.
I haven’t slept in days. Haven’t rested. Haven’t given myself a chance to stop moving because I have a mission, too, and the longer it takes, the more pain I inflict on the one woman who deserves so much fucking better.
“Archer…”
“Hold on.” Swallowing to moisten my desert-dry throat, I cup her ass and carry her across the room, all the way back to the chair I started this night in, but when I sit, I hold her in my lap, my cock still nestled deep inside her. Her dress sits exactlyright, so on the off chance someone comes in here and sees us, all they would see is a woman sitting on her husband’s lap. Hugging. Cuddled against his heart. “Rest on me.” I broaden my chest, lazily stroking her back with the tips of my fingers. And because I can—for as long as I can—I press a kiss to her temple. Her forehead. I bury my lips in her hair and know we’re on the clock.
Sex is easy. Sex is fun. Sex is a damn good distraction when we need it. But now it’s done, and her hurt still remains. My hurt. The whole fucking world stands on our throats and digs its heel in.
Music continues to play somewhere else, a soft melody dancing through speakers that don’t come as far as this room, but other than that, and other than the sound of our racing breath, the silence following what we did grows thick. The peace I typically feel after taking her body, not nearly as potent as usual.
“I wish that fixed everything,” she rasps.
Yep. There it fucking is.
“I wish all that other stuff never happened.”
“I know.” I drag the pad of my thumb over her shoulder blade, closing my eyes and taking another minute in Jamaica. “I wish the other stuff didn’t happen, too.”
She rises, her hands on my chest, and studies me through glassy, red eyes. “I hate how broken I am.”
I drag the heels of my palms over her wet cheeks. “I hate that I’ve told you how much I love you every single day since the first, but it still wasn’t convincing enough to make you feel safe in what we had.”
She chokes out a sobbing cry, silent but for the rush ofbreath escaping her throat. Devastating in how fucking tightly she still holds herself.
“You should go back to the house,” I rasp, my chest hitching and shaking under her palms. “Please. It would mean the world to me to know you’re somewhere safe and comfortable.”
Her lips wobble and swell. “Will you be there?”
I shake my head.I can’t. Not for a little while longer.“No. I won’t be there.” I hook my hand around the back of her neck and pull her in until our lips touch and our aching exhales mingle and mix. “I love you enough, I promise.”
She whimpers.
“I love yousofucking much.”
MINKA
An hour after I walked into Jennings—two hours, maybe?—I climb into Burke’s car and pray no one else knows the shame I carry in my head. My heart. The very fabric of my psyche. My stomach rumbles, though I don’t feel the hunger I know my body is trying to signal. Instead, I close the door and set my clutch on the chair beside my thigh. I fix my seatbelt and swipe my face with trembling hands, and when my phone bleats with an incoming text, I fish it out of the dark purse as my car pulls away from the restaurant.
“I trust your evening went as planned, ma’am.” Burke’s eyes meet mine in the mirror. “Back to the apartment?”
“To the house, actually. Please.” I unlock my phone and tap on Soph’s name. I’d rather call her than text. “Do you know the address, Mr. Burke? It’s over by?—”
He dips his chin. “I know where. Settle in. We’ll be there in about ten minutes.”
