You Belong With Me (With Me in Seattle 14)
Maybe staying isn’t such a bad idea.
“I should probably get you home,” he says, surprising me.
“Oh. Right. Yeah, I should go.”
He rounds the island and wraps one arm around my waist. His lips are inches from mine as he leans in.
“I want you to stay,” he whispers. “Make no mistake, I want it more than I’ve wanted anything in my life. But it’s too soon, and you have to work early tomorrow. When I have you, I don’t want time constraints, and I don’t want secrets between us.”
Well, then.
I lick my lips and nod, watching his mouth as it pulls up in that cocky grin that always puts a knot in my stomach.
Archer reluctantly pulls away, and we make our way to his car in the garage.
The drive to my cottage is quick and silent, as both of us are lost in our thoughts. I’m suddenly bone tired. I feel like I could sleep for a week.
What is it about this man that exhausts me? And he hasn’t even kissed me! Not really, anyway. The brushes of lips over breakfast and before he left don’t exactly count.
“I like these seats,” I murmur as I shimmy down into the warmth of the leather. “So comfortable.”
“Don’t fall asleep on me, sweetheart. We’re almost there.”
I smile and close my eyes, enjoying the warmth, darkness, and the sounds around me.
I feel him turn down my road, and then into my driveway.
“Thanks for the ride.” I open my eyes and turn to find Archer watching me with a serious expression. “What’s wrong?”
“I missed you, E. More than I even realized.”
I reach for his hand and pull his palm against my cheek. “I missed you, too.”
I kiss his skin, and then the moment is gone. Archer climbs out of the car and walks around to help me out. With our hands linked, he walks me to the door. The night has come awake around us with singing night birds and the buzz of insects. Even from this distance, I can smell the sea. The last of my summer geraniums are starting to wither.
“Do you want to come in?” I ask.
“Yes.” He sighs and cages me in against the still-closed door. “So, I’d better not.”
His eyes drop to my lips, and before I can say anything else, he cups my face and neck in both of his hands and lowers his head to mine, covering my mouth in the sweetest kiss I’ve had in more than a decade.
One hand slips down my shoulder, my arm, and lands on my hip. His fingers tighten, just enough to let me know he’s there.
I can’t help myself. I step into him, pressing closer, and surrender to the kiss. I want to lose myself in him. I want to remember what it feels like to be with Archer in this way. There’s absolutely nothing better in the world than when this man focuses his whole attention on me as if I’m the only one in the world.
With a growl, he nips at the corner of my mouth and teases me with his tongue. But that’s as deep as he takes it, and he backs away far too soon.
“You’re as sweet as you ever were,” he whispers against my lips. “Maybe sweeter, and I didn’t think that was possible.”
I swallow hard and, without giving myself time to overthink it, I wrap my arms around his middle and hug him close. This man was once my husband. He’s meant more to me than anyone else in my life besides my grandmother.
And he’s here.
And despite his words to the contrary, he’s not leaving.
This could be catastrophic for both of us.
“Stop thinking so hard,” he murmurs against my hair. “No one knows where I am. You’re safe. We’re safe, E. I promise.”
God, I want to believe him.
He tips up my chin, and I stare into his gorgeous eyes.
“Trust me?” he asks.
“I’ve always trusted you,” is my immediate response. It’s true. Trust was never our issue. “But I don’t know how you can trust me after everything that happened before.”
“Stop beating yourself up, okay? I’ll be just down the street a ways if you need me. And I’ll see you very soon.”
“How soon?”
“Tomorrow, most likely.”
“Are you going to make a nuisance of yourself?”
“Oh, yeah.” He laughs and kisses me squarely on the mouth, then steps off the porch. “You’re gonna be sick of me before long.”
I unlock and open the door, watching as Archer walks backwards to his car.
“I still think this is a bad idea.”
“I told you, stop thinking. Sleep well, babe.”
And with that, he gets into his car and drives away. But this time, I don’t have a pit in my stomach at the idea of never seeing him again. No, now I’m filled with anticipation, wondering how I’m supposed to wait until tomorrow to see Archer. How am I supposed to sleep with the taste of him on my lips, and the thought of having his hands on me racing through my mind?