I manage to keep my mouth closed. Well, I keep silent because closing my mouth while panting so hard is impossible.
“You going to give it to me?”
“Do you want it?” he challenges, his hips rolling, his cock sliding through my hands.
“I’ve been working for that nut for the last fifteen minutes,” I remind him. “I’ve earned it.”
Leaning down, I press my lips to his although they’re tender from his stubble.
“You first,” he groans, but the man is already pulsing in my hand. “Fuck, Archer, stroke harder.”
I obey because it’s exactly what I need to take me over the edge.
I have to hold my breath when I orgasm because not doing so would have me screaming my pleasure at the top of my lungs.
He grunts when I fall to his chest, my hand locked between us. I just don’t have the energy to pull it free.
He chuckles, his hand coming up to trace down my spine. It feels so fucking good, but I know I can’t get lost in it.
I pull away long before I’m ready and head to the bathroom to clean up. Since I’m a glutton for punishment, I watch myself in the mirror this time, biting my sore lips, and turning my face to relish the beard burn I have on my neck and chest. It’ll fade all too soon.
He’s still in bed when I exit the bathroom, watching me as I dress.
“I’m going to head out,” I tell him, knowing he’s got some sort of post-wedding brunch to attend this morning.
“Wait a second,” he says, climbing off the bed and heading into the bathroom.
Since I’m a tortured soul, I do.
When he exits, his chest and stomach are free from cum. He pulls on his slacks from last night sans underwear as he inches in closer to me.
“I had a great fucking weekend,” he says, his lips pressing to mine.
“Me too,” I tell him truthfully, pulling away before I get so lost in him again that I beg him to let me stay longer. “I need to go. Can you make sure the rest of my clothes make it back to my house?”
“Of course,” he answers.
I didn’t exactly have a plan when I had so many things delivered.
He stands in the open doorway. I instantly feel like walking away will sever whatever brought us together Thursday night, but I know I can’t live inside a fantasy forever.
I freeze, my eyes still locked on his when I sense someone beside me in the hall.
When I turn my head, I grin at the woman sneaking out of the room next door, looking just as disheveled as I know I do. I grin even though I can see in her eyes she recognizes me.
Brooks wanted to be out in public last night, so I decide this is as good a chance as ever. It’s a shitty thing to do, considering I’m well aware of who she is, but I lean in to press my lips to his one last time.
He pushes a hand to my chest before our lips can meet. “Just go.”
There’s laughter in his voice, and I know he takes a further step out of the room to watch me walk away. Maybe there’s hope that some of this can continue past this weekend, but I don’t look back, not risking the chance of seeing relief in his eyes.
I climb on the elevator, riding it to the lobby to catch a cab back to my house.
I have no idea what tomorrow will bring, but I make a vow to myself to face it head-on with my chin held high.
Chapter 23
Brooks
I had three nights of Archer Bremen. Three nights of pure fucking joy, even with the weirdness that fell over us last night.
I want more, I realize, as I watch him walking down the hallway, his tight ass gripped by devilish jeans.
My body is like a live wire right now, and I know it’s more than just the sex. Sex I can handle. It’s the other parts that make me cautious.
I’m smiling when I turn to go back in my room.
Then my world falls apart.
I’ve been cautious every fucking time I’ve been in this hallway. I checked to make sure no one was around when I’ve climbed off the elevator with Archer. I didn’t want questions. I didn’t want to have to explain something I honestly had no answers to.
I thought I was in the clear.
Like a deer caught in a pair of high-beam headlights, I’m frozen.
Jules Warren is standing outside of Kit’s room with her hand on the doorknob. She looks just as terrified as I imagine I do.
Instinct makes me want to cover my lips because I know how they look—red and swollen—perfect, or at least I thought so when I looked at them in the mirror just moments ago. There’s no other explanation than the truth for why Archer was leaving my room.