Break the Sky

by Nina Lane

  Whatever they had together, it was good. Even I, a guy who didn’t know much about good, could see that.

  And it was easy, too. Like it always was for Dean.

  They turned and started toward Liv’s car. I walked around the other side of the house to the front porch. After the sound of the car engine faded, Dean approached the house, holding a six-pack of soda so cold the cans were sweating.

  “From the cooler,” he said. “Want one?”

  I nodded. We sat on the porch steps. He handed me a soda and took one for himself. I popped the tab and took a gulp, wiping my mouth on my sleeve.

  I was discovering that it was easiest to deal with my brother by preempting him. At least that way, I wasn’t the one caught off guard.

  “I’m not messing with Kelsey,” I said. “Not in the way you think.”

  He didn’t respond for a minute.

  “She’s a good friend,” he finally said. “I don’t want her to get hurt.”

  “You think I do?”

  “I don’t know what you want. I’m still trying to get used to the fact that you’re even here.” Dean glanced at me. “I’ve seen you… what, twice in five years?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And for the last twenty years, I haven’t even known what you were doing,” Dean continued. “The only time I did was when Mom called to tell me you were in trouble or needed money.”

  Shame rose in my chest. Out of guilt, my mother had never turned me down when I’d asked for money or anything else. She’d spent years bailing one son out of trouble while idolizing the other for his successes. It would have been biblical, if it weren’t so pathetic.

  “If you want me to leave, I’ll leave,” I said.

  “I didn’t say I want you to leave.”

  You also didn’t say you want me to stay.

  Irritation scraped my chest. “So… what? You’re going to spend the next couple of weeks snarling at me about Kelsey?”

  “No.” Dean shook his head. “You just watch yourself.”

  “‘We’re wanted men.’” I made my voice nasally and sharp. “‘I have the death sentence on twelve systems.’”

  Dean blinked.

  “Star Wars,” I supplied. “The Mos Eisley bar scene.”

  He still looked blank.

  “Aw, come on, man,” I said. “Don’t tell me your head is so stuffed with medieval crap that you don’t remember lines from a movie we saw a hundred times.” I tilted my head back for another drink. “That would be a damn shame.”

  Dean pushed to his feet and started down the steps.

  “‘I’ll be careful, then,’” I called after him.

  “‘You’ll be dead,’” he replied, not turning around as he strode to his car.

  I grinned. “Atta boy.”

  After working on the house all day Sunday, I called Kelsey the following morning. I had a limited time with her. I wasn’t going to waste it by dragging things out. Especially now that I’d had a taste of her explosive heat. A taste of the fire that melted all her ice.

  “Hello?” Her voice was scotch and honey.

  “What are you wearing?” I asked.

  “A frown.”

  “Mmm. Sexy.”

  “Archer, I’m at work,” she said tartly.

  “In a classroom?”

  “No. I’m in my office.”

  “Alone?”

  “Yes.”

  “So tell me what you’re wearing.”

  There was a pause. Taut energy crackled over the line.

  “Archer, I had rules because I have boundaries—”

  “One rule,” I told her. “No boundaries. Not with me.”

  “Or what?” she challenged.

  “Or you don’t get fucked.”

  She inhaled sharply. “You are so crude.”

  “Uh huh. And you like it. What are you wearing?”

  “A suit.” She sounded cross. “A tailored, gray wool suit.”

  “And underneath?”

  “A blue, Brooks Brothers dress shirt.”

  “And under that?”

  “I’m not going to tell you.”

  “I dare you to tell me,” I said.

  “I do not accept the dare.”

  “Then I double-dog dare you.”

  She gave a muffled laugh, like she was trying not to. “What are you wearing?”

  “Jeans and a T-shirt. I’m all hot and sweaty from working.”

  “Really?” Now she sounded intrigued. “Are you wearing a tool belt?”

  “I was.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Tell me about your sexy underwear,” I said.

  “No.”

  “You’ve got a bad attitude, lady. You need to be spanked as well as fucked.”

  She made a noise that sounded like a half groan, half laugh. “You do go all out, don’t you?”

  “You haven’t seen anything yet. You ever been spanked?”

  There was a second of silence, as if she was thinking.

  “No.” She almost sounded surprised. “I haven’t.”

  “First time for everything. What color is your bra?”

  A sigh came over the line. “Blue, okay? Dark blue satin with white trim.”

  “Matching panties?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are they wet?”

  “God, Archer. Yes.”

  I rubbed my erection through my jeans. “What about your shoes?”

  “Gray pumps with three-inch heels.”

  “I’ll be at your place at seven,” I said. “I want you waiting in your heels and lingerie. Nothing else.”

  “And if I’m not?” she replied, putting some of that defiance back into her voice.

  “You’ll be in trouble.”

  “So if I am, I avoid… um, punishment?”

  I laughed. “Nice try, storm girl. But you’re getting spanked no matter what.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  KELSEY

  “HEY, KELSEY!”

  I groaned, but stopped to watch Peter Danforth loping across the parking lot toward me. His mop of hair was rumpled, his suit wrinkled, and his pencil-thin tie was flapping over his shoulder. He stopped in front of me, breathless and grinning engagingly.

  “I heard that the National Science Foundation is looking at the Spiral Project,” he said. “Any word from them yet?”

  I shook my head. I wasn’t lying. I hadn’t heard from the NSF yet, but The Weather Institute had also rejected my proposal in record time.

  “A number of agencies are still looking at the proposal,” I told Peter.

  That, actually, was a lie. The NSF was the only agency left.

  “When do you expect to hear something?” Peter asked.

  “I don’t know.” I sighed and turned to face him. “Look, Peter, the Spiral Project’s future looks dim, okay? It’s a massive, ambitious, expensive project that, so far, is not backed by hard evidence. That’s why SciTech cut off funding. And why it’s an uphill battle to get anyone else interested.”

  Peter frowned. “I’d think King’s would be all over such a ground-breaking project.”

  “They’re not,” I admitted. “If I did get reliable funding, I’d have to negotiate with the King’s administration because I’d need to use university resources to assimilate all the data. And the meteorology lab is overextended as it is.”

  “You wouldn’t go out into the field to collect data?”

  “No. If the Spiral Project is ever funded again, my plan is to use King’s as the home base and direct the unit from there.”

  “Seriously?” Peter asked. “You structured the project as a fully mobile, nomadic unit, and still you wouldn’t even go out with your own team?”

  “That’s just it, Peter!” My frustration got the better of me suddenly. “Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t, because King’s would never let me abandon my commitments to run off chasing tornados. And I wouldn’t want to because I don’t storm chase anymore. But none of that matters anyway because the
project is on life support, and King’s has no intention of helping me revive it. No one does.”

  Peter blinked with surprise at that barrage of information.

  Great. I’d just let off steam to an eager-beaver reporter. All I needed was news of my irritation with the Meteorology department getting back to Stan and, god forbid, Chancellor Radcliffe.

  I forced my tone to soften. “Look, Peter, if I find out anything new, I’ll let you know. In the meantime, I’d appreciate it if we could keep this conversation off the record.”

  “What conversation?”

  I smiled faintly. “Thanks.”

  “Okay, but I’m the first to know, right?”

  “Second. I’m always first.”

  He gave me a salute and jogged off toward campus. I watched him go, trying to find my way back from renewed frustration and disappointment.

  Last week when Archer had defended me in front of my colleagues, I’d felt something more than just appreciation. I’d felt a spark of new hope.

  “She’ll find another way.”

  Archer had sounded so convinced. But there were only so many scientific research agencies, only so much money, and word had already spread that SciTech killed the Spiral Project because of dubious evidence. No other agency wanted to jump on board a sinking ship.

  If I could, I’d try to find funding through other channels. But who else would want to fund tornado research? And why? I had no other ideas. There didn’t seem to be another way.

  Peter disappeared around the side of a building. I got into my car, pushing all thoughts of him and the Spiral Project out of my mind.

  Despite how all-consuming the project and my job had been in recent months, it wasn’t at all difficult to stop thinking of them. In fact, it was a relief. Because the space they left in their wake was filled with a dominating male presence who both thrilled and unnerved me.

  As I drove home, I thought about how Archer was also surprising me in all the right ways. Although I’d believed him when he’d told me he was clean, he’d forwarded me a copy of his most recent test results via email. I’d had a recent doctor’s appointment since I was on the pill for endometriosis issues, and I’d also received a clean bill of health.

  I hadn’t even had to ask Archer for proof. He already knew how much I valued evidence, and I liked that he left me no room for doubt.

  I parked in the driveway and went into my house. Usually my haven of peace and quiet, now even my house seemed filled with a tense, edgy air of impatience.

  I was nervous. I normally didn’t like being nervous, but I couldn’t deny that this was sort of… fun. I didn’t know what to expect. It was the thrill of the unknown, both exciting and scary. My nerves tingled with anticipation.

  Plus… Archer.

  Of course, I overthought everything. Should I follow his “order” or not? What would really happen if I did or didn’t? If I did, what should I wear? If I didn’t, what should I wear? Was he expecting dinner? Should I light candles? Why was I acting like such a ninny?

  Maybe I should just cancel the whole thing. It really had been a long time. I wasn’t even sure if I remembered what to do with a man, much less a man like Archer who was the crazy-hot walking definition of the word virile.

  I paced the living room. I couldn’t figure out if I felt like a total slut or a virgin on prom night, ready to lose it with the high-school bad boy. Somehow, it seemed possible to feel like both.

  Finally, I took a shower, making certain to use the almond-milk-and-honey soap that he’d liked, then put on lotion and dried my hair. I studied my overflowing drawers of lingerie and chose a somewhat modest, navy blue chemise and a matching thong. After I wiggled into the lingerie, I pulled my Japanese silk robe on. I slipped my feet into a pair of blue, heeled sandals.

  The doorbell rang.

  My heart stopped. I clutched the bedpost. Was I trembling?

  “Get a grip, Kelsey,” I muttered.

  I grabbed my glasses from the nightstand, putting them on as I strode to the door. I knew how to handle men. Whatever Archer West had in mind, I’d go mano a mano with him.

  I opened the door and favored him with my sharpest look.

  Oh, sigh.

  He looked gorgeous, all rugged and sexy in black trousers and a dark green shirt unbuttoned at the collar, his thick hair brushed away from his forehead.

  He smiled. My knees went weak. His gaze, hot and assessing, swept a path over me from head to toe.

  “Nice robe,” he remarked. “Take it off.”

  I held up a hand. Shit. I was trembling.

  “Wait a minute.” I tried to put some steel into my voice. “We need to establish some… oh!”

  Before I knew it, he’d pushed his way in, kicked the door shut behind him, and was crowding me up against the wall so fast that all the breath escaped my lungs in one whoosh. Lust darkened his eyes the second before his mouth came down on mine in a kiss of crushing, aching possessiveness.

  He shoved his knee between my thighs and thrust his tongue into my mouth. My head fell back, and my whole body swayed toward him, so flooded with desire that I swore his grip on my shoulders was the only thing keeping me upright.

  “Say it,” he whispered, his lips burning a trail to my ear, his breath warm on my neck.

  “I…”

  He nipped at my collarbone as his fingers found the opening of my robe. Then his hand was between my thighs, cupping my sex. The heat of his palm burned into my blood.

  “Say it,” he repeated, circling my clit with his thumb. He lifted his head to look at me, his eyes smoky but unwavering.

  I swallowed hard. I was almost ready to come and he was barely touching me. He pressed harder. I gasped.

  “I… I give up.” I’d never said that before in my life. Never given up. Never given over.

  “Not that,” Archer whispered. “Say it.”

  I could hardly speak. “I… I can’t.”

  “One day,” he promised, “you will.”

  His mouth covered mine again. I parted my lips to let him in, sinking into the delicious sensation of his tongue sliding against mine. He moved his hand from between my legs and tugged at the belt of my robe. In seconds, he had it unfastened and pushed the robe from my shoulders. He took one step back to look at my lingerie-clad body.

  “Beautiful,” he murmured. “But I can’t wait to get that off you.”

  His husky whisper bolstered my faltering confidence. My pulse streamed hot as he lowered his head to press his mouth against the swell of my breasts, cupping one in his hand. He pinched my nipple through the silk, and a thousand sparks shot right to my core.

  I grabbed the edge of the foyer table to try and steady myself, watching as he tucked his fingers beneath the lace border and pulled the cups down to expose my breasts. I sucked in a breath, shocked by the sudden exposure, the rush of cooler air, the heat of his eyes.

  And when he took my nipple into his mouth, I moaned, faintly aware I was reaching the point where I would do anything he asked me to. The point where I realized there really were no boundaries. Not with him.

  “Archer, I’m—”

  “Hold on tight.”

  I watched in disbelief as he went down on his knees in front of me and slipped his hands against my inner thighs.

  “Spread them.”

  “I’m…”

  “Do it.” His voice was deep and hoarse with lust.

  I did it. Trembling, I gripped the table with one hand and found the door frame with the other. I spread my legs, watching Archer as he tangled his fingers in the string of my thong and pulled it right off me.

  Oh, god. I was exposed, wet, aching. And he was there, right there, his long fingers opening me to his questing penetration. A gasp choked my throat at the first touch of his tongue. And then he was licking me, slow and easy, up one side and down the other, drawing my clit gently between his lips. I trembled, panted, unclenched my fingers from the door frame and gripped a fistful of his hair.


  “Archer…”

  He made a muffled noise before pushing his tongue inside me. I couldn’t stop a groan from breaking forth, and then again when he eased two fingers in and slid them back and forth, deep enough to reach the sweet spot that drove my urgency even higher.

  He sat back, his chest heaving and his eyes black with lust. “Tell me.”

  I shook my head. I couldn’t do it. And even through the drenching heat of need, I didn’t get it. I didn’t know why I was uncertain and timid, of all things. I didn’t understand why I was like this with him. Only him.

  He put his mouth back on me. So incredible. I closed my eyes and dragged a hot breath into my lungs. He worked me with his fingers and sucked my clit until I couldn’t hold back any longer. I clenched my fist in his hair, pushing my hips forward as an orgasm ripped through my body and stole my breath.

  I was shaking, gasping, sweating. I couldn’t look at him, but he was still there, his mouth and fingers working the last sweet sensations from me, his breath caressing my sensitive flesh.

  Then he rose, his sharp cheekbones crested with a flush, his eyes burning like coals. He planted his hands on the wall behind me and lowered his head for another long, deep kiss that tasted like both of us combined. I gripped the front of his shirt and tried to remain upright.

  Archer slid his hands around my waist and lifted me. Just as I’d known, it took him no effort whatsoever. Like I was a feather, a leaf, a wisp of cotton. His body was hot and hard against mine. I wrapped my arms and legs around him, buried my face in his strong neck, and clung to him as he strode to the bedroom.

  I was giving over. It scared the hell out of me, but I was doing it. He lowered me to the edge of the bed and stood in front of me. Heat radiated from him.

  My chemise was half off, the straps falling down my shoulders, my breasts exposed with my nipples hard as pebbles. I fought the urge to cover myself, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing I was so nervous.

  Archer reached down to take my glasses off. Suddenly that was too much. I tried to grab them back.