by Gemma Weir
Echo, Archer’s Creek: Book One
Copyright © 2017 by Gemma Weir
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Cover design by Hart & Bailey Design Co
Interior design by Champagne Book Design
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87
Chapter 88
Chapter 89
Chapter 90
Chapter 91
Chapter 92
Chapter 93
Chapter 94
Chapter 95
Chapter 96
Chapter 97
Chapter 98
Chapter 99
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
For Martin, Sophie, Eddie & Myles.
I finally stopped talking about it and just bloody well did it!
“Fuck, fuck, fuck! I fucking hate Texas.” I sling my backpack down, and it lands on my toe. Shooting pain bursts from my foot. “Bollocks.” Kicking the stupid thing, I mutter angrily, “Stupid fucking bag. Stupid fucking bus.”
A raspy chuckle makes me freeze.
I brush down my shirt, straighten, and spin. My eyes start at the tarmac under my feet and slowly track upwards, devouring the biker god in front of me. Jesus, he’s huge. His tight white T-shirt stretches taut over his bulging chest. Tattoos cover his arms down to his knuckles and peak tantalizingly out of the neck of his shirt. His strong, thick thighs are spread astride a badass Harley motorcycle, the polished chrome sparkling in the morning sunlight.
His hair is dark, almost black. Short at the sides but longer, shaggy and tousled on the top. God, I’m tempted to run my fingers through it. I force my hands into my pockets to stop myself from reaching out.
I finally focus on his face. Wow, he’s beautiful. Perfectly chiseled cheekbones and full lips showcase his amused grin.
“Can I help you?” I ask.
He pulls a long drag from his cigarette and lazily blows the smoke into the air. “No thanks, darlin’, I’m happy watching.” His gaze glides up and down my body, and my skin heats under his appraisal.
I raise my eyebrows. “You having fun over there?” Blatantly mimicking him, I rake my eyes over his ripped jeans, pausing on the visible bulge beneath his zipper.
The corner of his mouth twitches into a cocky grin. “Sugar, I’m enjoying every minute.”
His southern drawl as smooth as whiskey, my panties dampen and instant arousal pulses in my stomach. I pull in a deep breath, hoping enough air will put my brain back in charge. “Okay, show’s over, buddy, so buh-bye,” I say sardonically.
He doesn’t move.
I sigh deeply. “For God’s sake. I’m having the day from hell, so can you please just fuck off and let me be pissed off in peace?”
He leans forward onto the handlebars and chuckles indulgently.
Incredulous anger ignites in my stomach. “Are you serious? Where the hell is all this Southern charm and Texas hospitality I was promised?”
Grabbing my bag, I turn to leave, but his hand on my elbow stops me. My flesh tingles where his skin touches mine. Biker Boy’s off his bike and beside me. He’s so close his woody, clean scent surrounds me as his body heat warms my skin.
“I’m sorry, sugar. Tell me what’s happened, and maybe I can help,” he drawls.
I glance down at his tattooed hand and thick fingers wrapped around my arm. His thumb strokes, caressing circles across my skin. I lift my head, and our gazes lock. Intensity sparkles in his sea-green depths. The stroking stops, and he slowly trails his hand down my arm, reluctantly freeing me at the tips of my fingers.
Stepping back, I release the breath I hadn’t realised I’d been holding. “My bus broke down this morning. I went to get coffee, and now it’s gone and I’m stuck here. Wherever the hell here is?”
Biker Boy drags his fingers through his hair, further dishevelling it. “Shit,” he hisses.
I close my eyes, a short, bitter laugh escaping me. “Yep. Shit. That pretty much sums it up.”
The warm sun beats down on the barren roadside. Crickets chirp, and the small town behind us bustles with life, a low hum of noise buzzing all around.
“Where you headed, sugar?” His voice pulls my attention.
Staring at his full, pouty lips, my mind blanks. Shaking my head, I clear the haze his presence creates. “El Paso,” I reply.
“You on vacation or is El Paso home?” he asks.
“Neither, I’m travelling,” I reply.
“Travelling where?” he probes.
I smile cheerfully. “Wherever takes my fancy. It’s all part of my great American adventure.”
Biker
boy rubs his bottom lip with his thumb. His lazy movements are so effortless, I can’t take my eyes off him.
God, he’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. The cheeky tilt of his head and the twinkle in his eye says he knows exactly what I’m thinking.
He smirks at me. “Well, sugar, welcome to Archer’s Creek.”
I feel an unwelcome blush spread across my cheeks.
His smirk changes into a predatory grin. “What’s your name?”
I copy his body language and tilt my head. “Olivia.”
He smiles and stepping towards me, reaches out to gently trace my jaw with his fingertips. “Well, Olivia, you need to stop looking like you wanna lick me. Else I’m gonna strip you naked and spread you out like dessert in about two seconds.”
My brain shouts at me to beg him to do just that. But I can’t fuck a random biker I just met, can I?
Stepping backwards, I slowly edge away from his magnetic pull. “Okay. Well, Biker Boy, it’s been interesting. I’m gonna go now and see if there’s any way of getting to El Paso by the end of the day. So, er, thanks.”
I turn, but his hand on my elbow stops me. Like a moth drawn to a flame, I look over my shoulder and my gaze meets his.
“Echo. I’m Echo,” he says.
Fuck.
My cock’s so hard it’s trying to force its way out of my jeans.
I should have ridden past and ignored the crazy person screaming and swearing like a sailor on the side of the street. One look at her never-ending legs and those perfect fucking tits and I couldn’t keep my eyes on the road. The first time “Fuck” fell from her lips in that sexy British accent, I was hitting the brake and pulling over to watch the show.
This woman is a walking wet dream. She screams sex. Angry attitude and fire. It’s been a long fucking time since I’ve seen pussy this hot.
Her dark hair is curly and kind of a mess—perfect to pull while I pound into her from behind. Her body was built to fuck. Her curves are begging to be touched, and my mind overflows with all the dirty things I want to do to her.
She’s hot for me. Her pupils are dilated. Her nipples are rock hard and straining against the fabric of her shirt. Her body is screaming at me, showing me just how turned-on she is.
I’ve got to fuck her.
She wants me, and I want her; it’s simple. Just how I like it. Get in, fuck, get out. No strings, no drama, and no commitment.
I’m not against relationships. I see the boys at the club who are still hot for their old ladies ten years on. Some so hot for each other we find them fucking all over the club.
I’ve never found pussy who can keep me interested enough for a second round, let alone a permanent commitment.
But this is one seriously hot fucking bitch, and I want her in my bed as soon as fucking possible.
My fingers are wrapped around her arm, her scent and potent arousal surrounding me. Leaning into her, I breathe her in deeply, committing the smell to memory.
I ask her name.
“Olivia,” she replies.
Her voice is breathy and soft. The British accent makes my already hard cock kick against my jeans. Apparently, my dick wants to introduce himself too.
I’ve got to have her.
But not on the side of the road. Turning her, I try to steer her towards my bike, but she tenses and tries to pull from my grip.
I’m moving too quick, so I drop her arm and speak quietly. “I’m sorry, sugar, but there isn’t another bus heading anywhere until tomorrow afternoon.”
“Fuck,” I hiss.
“Hell, sugar, anyone ever tell you that you’ve got a foul mouth?” he mutters angrily.
I pull in a lungful of air and exhale slowly. Clenching my fingers into my palms, I turn to face Biker Boy, aka Echo, and force my lips into a sardonic smile. “Look, Echo, thanks for stopping, but it looks like I’m stuck here until tomorrow. I’d lined up a free ride to California if I could get to El Paso today, but it appears that won’t be happening now, and I’m pretty fucking pissed off.” Taking a breath, I lace my voice with sarcasm. “I’m so sorry if my language is offending you, but my quota for polite conversation’s been used for the day.”
Echo’s face darkens, and I step back instinctively. “Sugar, you need to watch your tone or I’m gonna find something better to do with that mouth of yours,” he growls.
I shudder. The low rumble of his voice vibrates straight to my clit. He steps towards me, closing the gap between us. His eyes narrow, and pulling back his broad shoulders, he towers over me. His body language screams dominant, alpha male, and I should be intimidated. Shouldn’t I?
My mouth waters. I lick my lips and stare at him. I can’t move. Frozen in the heat of his gaze, my mind floods with erotic images. I imagine taking that final step to him, until we’re touching chest to chest. I sink to my knees at his feet and look up, watching the excitement dance in his eyes. His fingers stroke my cheek lovingly before his thick cock slides into my mouth.
“Olivia.” At the sound of his voice, I close my eyes, and the filthy daydream evaporates like mist. I feel the heat of embarrassment bloom in my cheeks. “Come on, sugar, let me buy you a drink, and we’ll see if we can sort you a way to El Paso tonight,” Echo says, amusement lacing his voice.
I force my eyes open. Alpha Echo is gone, and his taut shoulders are relaxed. He lazily steps forward and drops his arm around me, pulling me close against his firm body.
I shouldn’t be touching him. I move as he moves, hypnotized. My hands find their way to his chest, his leather waistcoat warm under my fingertips as he steers me towards his bike. Bright Texas sunlight bounces off the shiny paintwork. I freeze to the spot. “I’m not getting on that thing with you.”
Echo throws his leg over the huge black motorcycle and chuckles to himself. His gaze burns a path along my skin, taking in every detail of my body before he glances at the leather seat behind him. “That’s a real shame, sugar.”
The motorcycle roars to life, the muscles in his arms bulging as he twists the throttle. A wry smile spreads across his face, and he winks at me before he rides away.
I watch him until he rounds a bend and disappears. A wave of disappointment and an overwhelming sense of loss rips through me. I turn, grab my bag, and start to trudge back up the street. Each lonely step taunted by Biker Boy’s absence.
“Here, give me your bag, sugar.” His voice rumbles from behind me.
I freeze midstep. Butterflies leap to attention in my stomach, and I spin around, searching for him. His confident stride eats up the distance as he jogs towards me. He lifts the bag from my back like it’s weightless and flings it over his shoulder.
I try to act nonchalant but fail miserably. I pull my bottom lip between my teeth and lift my eyes to his face. He flashes me a cocky grin. “Miss me already, sugar?” My lips twitch. A smile spreads across my face, and I playfully roll my eyes at him.
Echo reaches out, takes my hand, and pulls me towards him. The weight of his arm draped across my shoulders feels natural, like he’s done it a thousand times before. He towers over my five-foot-eight frame, and I feel dwarfed against his huge, firm chest. He’s a total stranger, but my attraction to him is instinctive, and I can’t fight it. I don’t want to.
He tows me up the street and pushes open a door, guiding me into a dimly lit room. A neon sign spelling out Strikers buzzes above a worn wooden bar. A blonde waitress is busy serving customers, but when she spots Echo, she raises a hand in greeting and smiles broadly. He pulls out a barstool for me to sit on, and the blonde falters, watching us quizzically.
Echo pushes a strand of loose hair behind my ear, and I stare at him for a moment. His touch is intimate, the action of a lover, not a virtual stranger.
“What you drinking, sweetheart?” Echo asks.
“Beer, please.”
Echo’s watchful eyes reluctantly turn to the bar. “Brandi, two beers, please.”
The waitress grabs the drinks and passes them to Echo before resti
ng her hip against the bar. “Hi, I’m Brandi.”
Reaching over, I shake her outstretched hand. “Olivia,” I reply.
Turning to Echo, she raises her eyebrows expectantly. He exhales dramatically and rolls his eyes before responding. “Olivia’s bus left without her. She’s looking for a way to El Paso by tonight.”
Her eyes immediately flash back to me and soften sympathetically. “Oh, hon, that’s too bad, but there’s no buses out of town until later on tomorrow.”
I let my head fall into my hands and groan in frustration. Strong fingers wrap around the back of my neck, and a shudder of desire runs down my spine. Echo leans down, his breath warming my skin. “I’m real sorry, sugar.”
His fingertips stroke feather-light caresses down my neck to the curve of my shoulder. I slowly lift my head, and he cradles my face with his hands. He leans towards me and his warm, minty breath heats a tingling path across my skin. The sound of the bar fades, and the only noise I hear is the loud beat of my own heart.
I stare into Echo’s eyes and watch them darken and fill with smouldering desire. In this moment, all I see is him, all I feel is him. All I want and need is him. We’re detached from reality, connected and so consumed with each other that we’re oblivious to the world happening around us.
Bloody hell, I want him to rip my clothes off and fuck me till I’ve forgotten my own name, and then do it every day for the rest of my life. I don’t know what the hell this is between us, but it definitely feels like more than just lust.
“There’s a bus tomorrow, hon. Can you get that one?” Brandi’s voice shatters my connection to Echo, and the hustle and bustle of the bar returns in a rush, flooding my senses.
Echo’s hands reluctantly release me, but his eyes stay locked on mine. The pull to stay connected to him is intense, but I force myself to turn to Brandi. “Nope, tomorrow’s too late. I had a free ride lined up, but only if I got there today. A friend of a friend said I could jump on his band’s bus and hitch a free ride to California, but they’re leaving tonight. I really can’t afford to pay for buses all the way across the country to try and catch up with them.”
“Oh my God. This. Is. Perfect,” Brandi squeals.
Startled, I jump, almost spitting out the beer I’d just swallowed. I cough, my eyes watering as the beer tries to come back up.
