Sworn to Be His ( The Archer Family 3)

"What the hell?" she asked, but this time he really did grab her arm and lead her back to one of the curtained off rooms, free from prying eyes.

"We're doing things my way now."

"And what's your way involve? Getting us both killed?" she spat, but then he drew the thick black curtains closed, spun around, and kissed her as hard and as deep as he could.

Chapter 6

His kiss consumed her. Commanded her in a way she’d never felt before.

This wasn’t the chaste kiss of a man who didn’t know where he stood. Nor was it the overly tender kiss of an admirer.

This was all need, all passion, and before she could process how to feel about who and what and where she was, she was responding to him, breathing in his earthy masculine smell. Wrapping her arms around his waist and pulling him closer to her aching breasts.

But no.

This was Derrick, Derrick Archer, her best friend. Her partner.

And more than that, was this how she wanted things to be between them? If she was going to be with him—and she definitely wasn’t committing to that one way or the other—than did she want it to be now? When she was barely dressed and in the middle of a strip club?

She stepped back, then stumbled and fell onto the U-shaped leather couch behind her. It was buttery soft, and she leaned her forearms on the fabric to catch her fall, and then to catch her breath.

A single Edison bulb hung from the ceiling, but the light was enough for her to see the hunger in Derrick’s dark eyes. Enough for her to make out the way his jaw ticked as his gaze raked over her.

“What’s going on? You’re going to get us—“

“I don’t care.” He bit the words out one by one, like each was harder to say than the last.

“But—“

“I don’t care,” he said again, and then she noticed the way his hands were clenched at his sides, his knuckles white.

“Derrick—“

“I want you.”

She felt like the wind was knocked out of her. Slowly, she stared back at this man—her friend—and took in the way he stared at her chest, at the tiny silk panties covering her from his view.

A jolt of awareness shot through her and for an instant she wanted to spread her legs apart, let him get a better look at her panties, let him imagine what was underneath.

With a quick glance, she flicked her gaze to his crotch and assessed his hard arousal. There was no denying it was there, long and hot and waiting for

her.

Derrick.

“I don’t know what to say,” she choked out.

“Don’t say anything.” He took a step toward her, then settled onto the couch beside her. Leaning closer, he wrapped a tendril of her hair about his finger and then cupped her neck, bringing her closer to him.

She could feel the heat of his minty breath on her cheeks, and instantly her eyelids fluttered closed and she readied herself to taste him again. Too quickly, all thought of Zac, all thought of their jobs, all thought of the strip club was disappearing. They were just a man and a woman in a darkly lit room with nobody to interfere. Nobody to see.

She didn’t care about the clink of glasses or the sound of the raunchy music on the other side of the curtain. She only cared about the way his hand scorched the back of her neck, of the way his touch made her scalp tingle, her toes curl in anticipation.

He was only a millimeter away now. His lips would be on hers any second.

“Derrick,” she breathed.

“Yes?”