Stripped Love (Guys Next Door Book 1)

by Baylin Crow

  "I'd be really disappointed if you left." I was figuring out that straightforward honesty worked best with Archer, and it was what I could expect in return. I shut the solid, wooden door and locked it.

  He huffed a quiet laugh. "Okay, then."

  As if he'd been inside my house a hundred times, he walked into the living room and dropped on the far end of the worn leather couch. I leaned against the wall that separated the kitchen from the living room, watching him as he scoped out my space. I was suddenly conscious of the condition of the rental. It was in need of updating the worst way. It was clean, but dated, with off-white walls and boring Berber carpet. But I wasn’t going to invest in a house that didn’t belong to me.

  He scanned the photos that hung on my walls. Most of them were taken in Nashville of me posing with different bands I'd been able to meet across many genres in the thriving hub of musicians. His forehead creased, and I wondered what he was thinking.

  Archer tipped his chin toward an acoustic guitar propped in the corner of the room. "Do you play?"

  I kicked off the wall and wandered over to the instrument I'd saved for and bought just before I'd packed up and moved to Tennessee. All for nothing, I thought with a familiar sinking sensation in my belly as I ran my fingers along the neck. "I did. Not so much anymore."

  "Why not?" The question was innocent, but it stirred a sore spot.

  I shrugged and headed for the kitchen. "I'm going to grab a beer. Want one?"

  "Sure." His reply was heavy with disappointment, and I hated that I was the cause of it.

  I retrieved the beer from the refrigerator, and my heart slammed against my ribcage when I reentered the living room and found him reaching for my notebook that sat open on the coffee table. Shit. I hadn't realized I'd left it out from when I'd written a verse yesterday after talking to him at the shop. I hurried across the room and gently pulled it away. He jerked his hand back, but then he accepted the beer I offered in peace.

  "I didn't read it," he rushed to say, but then scrunched his nose. "Well, I was going to because it was open… I'm sorry."

  "No, it's fine." I glanced down at the page and breathed out a sigh of relief when I saw he'd been on a fairly innocent page—ramblings really. I'd tried to write about something else that wasn't inspired by him, and the best I could do was…uninspiring. "I just never planned on anyone reading it."

  He nodded as if he understood, which I'm sure he couldn't since I hadn't told him what the sheets held. Since Archer wrote his own material, I knew he'd understand if I explained, but the questions that would follow? I wasn't ready for that. It also might've been a bit awkward if he figured out he'd been the source of many of the lyrics.

  I closed the notebook and slid it beneath the couch before I sank into the cushion at the opposite end from him.

  "You said you were just messing around when I asked about it before, but I think it's more than that." His casual statement was followed with a pull of his beer.

  I began absently peeling at the label on the bottle and sighed. "Maybe."

  "You don't have to tell me." He handed me his book, and a twinge of guilt snagged in my chest as I set down my beer and clutched his own creation in my hands.

  The cover was solid white without a hint of what the pages held, and I hesitated to open it. "What's the book about?"

  He rubbed his hands on his cargo shorts. "Villains."

  "That's all you're going to give me?" My eyebrows rose. "I'm intrigued."

  "Well, sometimes I start rambling when I try to explain," he began and shifted to face me. "Okay, so we have the queen of the sea, a siren named Phetea. Her kin keep disappearing. A pirate, immune to the call of the sirens, seeks vengeance on them for pulling his brother below the surface on a treasure hunt expedition, killing him. Violence, gore and hate." He took a leisurely drink of the beer as if he hadn't just shocked the shit out of me.

  "Wait, who is the villain then?" My eyebrows scrunched together.

  "All of them," he stated with a hint of a smile.

  "Didn't realize you were so vicious, Arch," I teased, but had to admit I was even more intrigued.

  He snorted, which was fucking adorable, and seemed to be something he did when he was amused. "It's a case of picking sides. Which is the lesser evil, I guess."

  "And, who wins?" I asked as I ran my hand over the cover.

  He shrugged. "I have no idea."

  I laughed and finally cracked open the book. "You haven't decided on an ending?"

  "I haven't picked a side yet," he answered as if that explained everything. Hell, maybe it did.

  "Why not?" I glanced at the first page as he mumbled, "Because there are always reasons behind actions. They both have motives for why they cause so much destruction."

  Archer had drawn a vivid swirl of dark blue water with white capped waves. A sinister looking creature covered in dark green scales—a female, based on her tits, covered by crumbling black shells—reached abnormally long fingers with sharp black claws toward a jagged wall of rock.

  On top of the cliff stood a man, eyes narrowed in fury at her. He wore dark clothing and looked very much an evil pirate with a patch over one eye as the other lit bright amber. A scar ran the length of his face, and he bared his teeth. His sword dripped blood at his side, and a crumpled heap lay by his tall boots. I looked closer and found another siren curled in on herself, limp and vacant eyes to the sky.

  What the fuck? I snuck a peek at Archer from the corner of my eye. He'd left the couch and stood staring out the sliding glass patio door, sipping his beer. Archer had a dark side, it appeared. And for some reason, I was drawn to it. I wondered how and why he chose that narrative. What made him tick.

  "Does the book have a title?" I asked and he glanced over his shoulder.

  "Not yet. I figure I better finish it first. It's hard for me to title something when I’m not sure how the story ends."

  Trying to understand him better, I probed. "So, when are you going to decide whose team you're on?"

  "When inspiration strikes, I guess." He paced back to the couch and plopped back down.

  I hummed under my breath and turned the next page and then the one after. The depictions were dark, but in an odd way, both villains only engaged in the deadly battle for their loved ones. Both wanted revenge on behalf of their families, and like Archer, I didn't know which one I'd rather see come out on top. It should have been a clear the sirens started it, but Archer had put his own spin on the tale. They'd been protecting their home from the pirates who'd journeyed too close.

  When I finished flipping through the unfinished book, I closed it and set it on the table.

  "What do you think?" he asked with a hint of nervousness.

  "I think I'm glad you showed me." I chuckled. "It's definitely not what I thought it would be, but you are insanely talented."

  His cheeks tinged with pink and his tongue darted out to wet his lips. "You think?"

  "I wouldn't say so otherwise." Eyes locked on his mouth, I reached across the couch and ran a finger down his arm, leaving chill bumps racing down the path. "So, writing... Getting published. That’s the goal?"

  He shivered when I continued to tease his skin but didn't pull away. "It's what I want to do for the rest of my life."

  There was a time when I knew that feeling. The ache to create and share my work with others. A small burst of remorse flickered in my chest before I extinguished it. This wasn't about me.

  "I think you have a real shot," I told him honestly. "I'm already a fan and want to see which direction you go. What made you decide to write this story?"

  He tilted his head and was silent for a beat. "I think I just found blunt honesty with it. No pretense. Two species unapologetically acting on their animal natures."

  I watched his mouth move, enraptured by the intensity of how he spoke of his work, his thoughts and how much I wanted those lips on mine.

  "Phoenix?" His voice had quieted.

  "Yeah?" I responded while
steadily stroking his arm.

  "You keep staring at my mouth." On cue, he sucked his full lower lip into his mouth.

  My gaze flicked up to his, and I groaned at the mix of innocence and heat swimming in those deep pools of rich brown.

  He puffed out a shaky breath. "Either I have something on my mouth…or you want to kiss me."

  My chuckle was rough, thinking about finally tasting him. "You don't have anything on your mouth."

  His trembling fingers squeezed around the bottle and relaxed. "Well, you can kiss me if you want."

  My brow arched in surprise, but there wasn't a single chance in hell I was passing up that invitation. I slid across the couch toward him and took his beer, setting it on the table before I faced him again. "You giving me the green light, Arch?"

  He slowly nodded, mute, and my cock hardened as I crowded his space, pressing him against the cushion. Leaning close, I nipped at his neck, and he gasped.

  "Did you come here for this?" I whispered in his ear.

  "I came to show you my book like you asked." He nervously laughed. "I had no idea you had a graphic novel fetish."

  Grinning into the crook of his neck, I breathed in his scent. He wore no cologne, but smelled of fresh linen detergent that clung to his clothes. "Maybe I just have an Archer fetish."

  "Phoenix?" The breathy way he said my name drove me crazy, but l leashed my urge to get him beneath me, moaning my name.

  "Yeah?" I ran my tongue up the side of his neck, savoring the flavor of his skin.

  "Are you going to kiss me or not?" he whispered and I pulled back, meeting his heavy-lidded eyes.

  "Yeah, Arch. I'm going to kiss you." As I leaned in, he sucked in a sharp breath and closed his eyes. I studied his features as I erased the distance and dusted my lips against his, reveling in the feather soft touch.

  He licked his lips. "You don't taste like smoke."

  Shaking my head, I repeated the motion, a barely there brush of our mouths. "I only smoke when I'm stressed."

  "Oh," he said as he brought his hands to my shoulders where they rested lightly.

  His chest rose and fell, in a chaotic rhythm, and I needed to feel it against mine. "I want you to lay down so I can kiss you properly. You okay with that?"

  "If it'll get you to stop stalling, then yes." Archer’s tone was steeped with unexpected exasperation.

  Jumping up from the couch, I tugged his legs until he was flat on his back. "And here I was trying to take it slow."

  “No, thank you,” he replied with a twinkle in his eye, making me laugh. God, he was adorable.

  “I can live with that,” I rumbled as I scanned his body and parted his legs, one bent against the back of the couch and the other fell to the floor. Without hesitation, I dropped a knee on the couch and crawled over him. Propped on my forearms, I caged him in and lowered myself between his thighs. A sharp gasp ripped from his throat, and I groaned when I pressed my hard length against his. The flimsy material of my shorts let him feel his effect on me, which was complete and total need for the squirming package of temptation beneath me. I wanted to undo his shorts to get the full sensation, but I still wasn't sure where the line was drawn.

  Wide eyes stared up at me. Mouth parted, Archer silently urged me on. I dove down, slanting my mouth over his in a burning rush I was helpless to contain. I slid my tongue between his lips, lapping up the sweetness of his mouth. He moaned while lifting his hips, creating friction that tested my control.

  The wet glide of his tongue was maddening, and I only barely registered the inexperienced way he kissed me back. Somehow it made me crave him even more, but also gave me pause. Unsure if I was moving too fast, I reluctantly pulled back and cleared my throat. "Not that it makes a difference to me, but...are you a virgin?"

  "Yes," he answered without hesitation. Before I had time to respond, or even think through his admission, his hands went behind my head and jerked me back down. Well, okay then.

  His hand brushed against the fresh tattoo, but the stinging pain only spurred me on. Capturing my mouth, he sucked on my bottom lip, and any lingering reservations I might have had were forgotten between his moans. I cursed as he began rolling his hips, sliding his shaft along mine. I'd never hated a pair of shorts more in my life. I wanted them stripped from his body and lying in a pile on the floor. Where was the unsure guy who trembled for me? He was still trembling, but his hands roamed my naked back as if he owned it. His movements became more confident as we wrestled for domination of the kiss. He was killing me.

  Mindlessly, I met him, thrust for thrust. I couldn't think straight with his tongue tangled with mine, his hard cock rocking against me, and his hands staking their claim as he gripped me tight. My head spun, completely wrapped up in him.

  We made out for minutes—hours—I wasn't sure. All I knew was Archer. The way he tasted. The demanding little sounds he made when something felt good and he wanted more. The bite of his short nails as they dug into my flesh.

  When the need for oxygen won, we broke apart, gasping for breath.

  "You drive me fucking crazy," I muttered against his slick lips once I'd caught my breath. "You have no idea how bad I wanted to fuck you the second I got you in that private room. Pure fucking torture."

  "I might have an idea." He panted with lids lowered. The need that shone in them screamed at me to give him more, and I was helpless to refuse him anything. Didn’t even want to.

  Lifting over him, I grabbed his hand, lowering it inch by inch between our bodies, and then encouraged him to wrap his fingers around my shaft through my mesh shorts. He let loose a sharp breath and squeezed, sending a zap of pleasure racing down my spine. I hissed between my clenched teeth as the urge to take him grew stronger. I popped open the button of his shorts and traced a finger over his hard length, stopping as I reached his tip that had worked its way past the band of his boxers. Precome beaded at the slit and I swiped my finger through it before bringing it to my mouth.

  Sucking the salty flavor clean, my eyes slammed close and a shudder ran through my body. “You taste so damn good. I want your cock in my mouth.”

  “Oh god,” he whispered and his hand tightened around my shaft. A gasped curse choked from my lungs, and my balls drew tight at the deliciously tight hold. Images assaulted my mind of me thrusting into his tight body, drawing more of those greedy sounds from him, sending me hurtling closer to the edge.

  His hand wrenched away. "Too hard?"

  “What?” I asked, trying to think through the lust clouding my thoughts. Blinking, I focused on his face. The hesitation written there reminded me that as much as he was into it, he was still inexperienced and we’d been racing toward the finish line. Hell, I’d just told him I wanted to blow him. Shit. "No, Arch, it was perfect."

  With more restraint than I'd known I had, I reluctantly pulled his hand to my mouth and kissed his palm.

  "Then why did you stop?" His curious eyes searched mine with a hint of…disappointment?

  I climbed off of him, sat on the couch and rearranged my dick that screamed in protest for relief for the second time that night. Orgasm denial was not my thing, and Archer wasn't making it easier with part of his dick exposed.

  "I just need to be clear." My voice was rough as I diverted my gaze, attempting to gather a semblance of control. "You said you're a virgin, but how far have you gone? It won't change how much I want you, because fuck, I want you…but I need to make sure we're on the same page. That you're ready. I've never been someone's first, and honestly, I'm worried I'm going to fuck it up."

  I meant what I'd said. It wouldn't change anything, but I still braced myself for his answer. The idea of Archer with someone else… I didn't really want to hear about it, but in this case, I needed to. For him. For us.

  He sighed and buttoned his shorts before sitting up. "First, you can stop wondering if you need to handle me with kid gloves. I'm not going to break. No, I haven't had sex, or done anything with anyone. But not because I was waiting. I just�
�" He paused and then sighed. "So, for the longest time, I wondered if something was wrong with me. Everyone I knew was having sex, but I was never really attracted to anyone. And never enough to want to sleep with them."

  His confession surprised me. I'd probably had more than my share of hookups, but without a doubt, I'd never wanted anyone the way I did Archer. I turned to face him. "Why me?"

  He huffed and swiped his hair from his forehead. "I don't know, but could we not make a big deal about it? I thought you didn't care."

  "Trust me, I still want to fuck you until the only thing you can remember is my name on your tongue and the ache of having me buried deep inside you." Even the thought of sliding into his virgin body caused a groan to crawl up my throat. I reached for him and tugged him in for a soft kiss. "That hasn't changed."

  "Good." He grinned when I pulled back. “So, can we get back to what we were doing then?”

  Holding back the laugh settled in my chest, I folded his hand in mind. "We don’t have to do everything right now. No rush."

  I'd never been with a virgin, but my imagination was going crazy about how many firsts I could give him. How much I wanted to own those moments was a little terrifying. "Was that your first kiss?"

  "My first good one," he admitted. When my lips kicked up in a satisfied grin, he rolled his eyes. "I've kissed two guys, but it was more just an experiment since all the guys I knew were having sex with anything that moved. I just wanted to know if something was wrong with me."

  That was the second time he'd mentioned that, and it made me angry he'd ever felt that way. "Nothing is wrong with you. There isn't a one size fits all formula to it, Arch."

  He nodded. "I realized that and figured it didn't really matter even if there was. I didn't want to, so I didn't."

  With him opening up to me, I felt like I needed to be honest with him about my past, but the words sat heavy on my tongue. "I'm not ashamed of my past, but I need to make sure that my experience won't bother you."

  Archer frowned. "Why would it bother me?"

  Reaching out, I ran my thumb over his bottom lip. His tongue darted out, tasting me, and I clenched my jaw to keep myself in check. "It wouldn't bother you that I don't have a sexual preference? That I'm attracted to people, not a specific gender?"