I strain toward him, wanting more, but he doesn’t stay for long, heading further south, toying with the edge of my shorts.
He looks up, the blue of his eyes electric as they meet mine, and bends down to press a soft kiss over my core, holding eye contact with me all the while. Even with clothing in the way, the action is indescribably sexy, lust running rampant through me.
“You ever had a guy go down on you?” The desire in his voice is unmistakable, all throaty, husky seductiveness.
I shake my head, afraid to open my mouth and let loose the string of nonsense that wants to escape. Words of needing and love and keeping him forever. I can’t say those things. Not yet.
“Do you want me to?”
I nod frantically, my hips lifting off the floor in their eagerness.
He grins, slipping my shorts and panties off, parting my thighs slowly, a shaky moan escaping me as he settles himself in, pressing kisses up my left inner thigh. My legs tremble with the effort to stay still, anticipating his next move, wanting to both sigh in relief and scream at the first touch of his tongue on me.
He lets out a low groan as he does it again, the sound setting off something primal within me. I fondle my bare chest, pinching my nipples lightly, that pull in my lower belly deepening.
His eyes widen as he realizes what I’m doing, stopping his ministrations as he lifts his head in wonder, and I reach down with one hand to tug him back in place.
“So fucking sexy,” he murmurs before licking me again, using his hands to part me wider.
I’ve touched myself plenty of times alone in bed, but it’s never been like this. Intense. Desperate. Necessary. The sensation of his tongue on me, now giving little sucks in between the licks, is like nothing I’ve experienced. And on top of that, just knowing it’s Archer puts it on a whole other level.
I run a hand through his hair again, his eyes meeting mine, the connection making the ache within me rise higher. I tilt my hips up, my mouth opening in silent wonder as the rush overtakes me, deeper than I’ve ever known, my breaths harsh as I crest the edge, never letting go of him, needing that contact. He stays with me throughout, encouraging me, spurring me on until I can’t take any more, a hazy warmth spreading from limb to limb.
He moves up my body and I give him a lazy kiss, every part of me relaxed. “I can taste me on your lips,” I murmur, my normal filter apparently gone. “I really like it.”
He groans, kissing me more deeply, his tongue briefly meeting mine. “I could eat you out every day. You’re so responsive.”
Oh, I definitely like the sound of that.
He shifts atop me, his erection hard against my thigh, and I snake a hand between us, his rough moan as I gently grip him everything I need to hear right now.
“Let me get you off too.”
He thrusts into my palm, even as he says, “I’ll be late to work.”
“Then be late.” I grin, stroking him through his workout shorts.
He acquiesces, not that he put up much of a fight, rolling so he’s underneath me, and I drag his shorts and boxers down, his dick popping out to greet me. I give him a few light strokes, bending down to envelop the head between my lips, a rumble of approval emanating from him. I suck him gently, his thighs tensing beneath me, and swirl my tongue, his hand reaching up to hold the back of my neck.
“Like that, baby,” he murmurs, the pressure of his grip warm and reassuring. “That feels amazing.”
He gives subtle thrusts of his hips as I continue, his desire evident, and I delight in making him twitch as I lightly scratch at his abdomen, then trail my fingers up his inner thighs.
“More,” he says, inhaling a shaky breath as I stroke him again, up and down, the softness of his skin such a contrast to how hard he is.
And when I take him all the way in my mouth, I revel in the loud exclamation of, “Fuck,” he makes in the silence of the room.
I work him up, using my hands and lips and tongue until he’s pumping beneath me, panting roughly, his hold on me still gentle but secure.
“You get me so fucking hard,” he moans, his eyes squeezed shut, looking like he’s doing everything he can to keep himself together. “I’m so close. If you don’t want me to come in your mouth, you have to let go now.”
I suck him harder, humming low in my throat to tell him it’s okay, wanting to experience this with him.
“Oh, fuck. Oh, God. I’m coming,” he shouts, the sight of him losing control like this worth everything. This man at my mercy, eyes rolled back in his head, hips lifted off the floor… yeah, I could get used to this.
I swallow him down, savoring him, taken aback as he soon after lifts me up to kiss me, wrapping himself tight around me, his kisses greedy, like he can’t get enough of me. I quickly get with the program, matching his level of enthusiasm, loving this closeness between us. If we could start every morning like this, I’d die a happy woman.
“What is it?” he murmurs against my lips. “You’re smiling.”
“I was just thinking I want to start every morning like this.”
He kisses me one last time, a slow smile forming over his face. “In a perfect world.”
“What’s stopping us?”
His mouth opens and closes a few times before he answers. “Nothing, I guess.”
“So it’s a date tomorrow morning?” Again, where is my filter?
His gaze flicks between my eyes. “You would want that?”
I nod, leaning in to kiss him, loving the taste of his lips.
He cups my head, deepening the kiss briefly. “Okay.”
I bite my lip, not that it does much to contain my smile. “Okay.”
I savor his answering smile, grinning goofily at him for a few moments until a noise sounds from out in the main area.
“Lori must be starting breakfast.” He untangles his legs from mine and slips his boxers and shorts back on. “I need to get ready.”
He leisurely dresses me next, his hands warm on me, and helps me up, staying close by me as we head out to the kitchen.
Lori gives us a knowing look, but wisely doesn’t comment on the way his arm is wrapped around my waist. “Hungry?”
“I need something I can eat in the car.”
“You got it.” She pretends not to notice the kiss on the cheek he gives me before disappearing back down the hallway to get ready. “Same for you?”
“I have time to eat.” I don’t have to be at the shelter until later.
“How about an egg and veggie scramble? I’ll put his in a burrito.”
I nod, taking a seat at the breakfast bar, catching my reflection in the microwave as I shift. Oh God, my hair. I’ve been rolling around on the floor for who knows how long. I surreptitiously finger comb it, giving up after a minute.
“You know, I have to apologize to you,” Lori says, her back turned away from me as she chops a red pepper to put in. “You got him quicker than I thought you would.”
I frown, not sure how to interpret her words. It makes me sound mercenary or something.
“Oh God, no, I didn’t mean it like that,” she says, glancing over her shoulder and spotting my face. “I meant you got through to him. I’d have bet money he’d be more resistant.”
“Why?”
“In all the years I’ve worked for him, he’s had a set routine. A schedule. And then you come in here and blow it wide open. I expected him to push back a little more, but I was wrong.” She sets the peppers to the side, chopping scallions next. “You’re good for him. You loosen him up.”
I duck my head down, basking in her praise.
“No, no. Don’t get shy. You wanted this.”
“I did,” I grin.
And now that I seem to have him, I only want more.
Chapter Seventeen
Archer
I step off the elevator, turning the corner to walk down the long corridor to my office, catching Tracy’s eye from a distance. She stands and hurries toward me, her too tight skirt hindering
her movements. What’s she worked up about now?
“Mr. Bishop’s in there,” she whispers as she reaches me. “He’s been waiting for fifteen minutes.”
Shit. The one time I’m late.
It was worth it, though. God, the way she’d come for me. The way she sucked me. The happiness radiating from her as we’d agreed to do it again tomorrow. It seems my path is clearer. Even if I’m not sure what’ll happen next, the unknown isn’t daunting so much as… exciting.
“Did he say what he wants?”
“No.”
There’s no need to describe his mood. She wouldn’t have warned me if he was happy.
And he’s never happy.
“Do you have any gum?”
She gives me a funny look, and rightly so because I’ve never asked her for anything like that. “I have mints in my purse.”
“Perfect.” I’m not going in there with breakfast burrito breath.
I suck the spearmint she offers me, crunching it as fast as I can, and calmly open my office doors, finding Dad seated behind my desk. Talk about a power move.
“So now you’re leaving early and coming in late?” he asks, steepling his fingers in front of him. It’s never bothered me much before, but today it irks me for some reason.
I set my attaché case on my desk. “What?”
“I stopped by last night a little after six, but you’d already left for the day.”
“Everyone else leaves then.” I remove my suit jacket, hanging it on the hook behind my desk, but he doesn’t seem to get the hint to vacate my chair.
“You’re not everyone else. Did Serena keep you up late again? Is that why you’re waltzing in here twenty minutes late?”
“No. There was traffic,” I lie. A plausible excuse in this city. What’s he going to do? Go look at the crash reports? He hasn’t had to worry about traffic in years. He had the top floor of the office converted into a massive private apartment for him. He just has to take an elevator to work.
“Don’t make it a habit.”
Again, I’m late one time. I doubt he’s scrutinizing the other chiefs this closely. “Will do,” I say, trying to stay neutral.
He stays seated in my chair, and I give up waiting for him to leave, taking a seat on the couch nearby. “Is there something you wanted to talk about?” I’m assuming he wouldn’t be in here otherwise.
“Why is Greg Montague pestering me about the buyout?”
Word got back to him that soon? It’s been one day. “I haven’t spoken to him.” Which is technically true.
“Apparently, you’ve been over there sniffing around. Any reason?”
I sigh, wishing I had more definitive proof to put a case together rather than this gut feeling and details that don’t add up.
I explain what happened yesterday along with what Serena’s told me, his silence afterward unnerving. I know he wants this deal to go through, but if it turns out Montague is deceiving him in some way, I’ll never hear the end of it.
“I’ll get a P.I. on him,” he says finally. “I have a guy I’ve worked with for years.”
For what? Who is he looking into?
Will that be me one day once I’m head of the company? I’ve never had a reason to hire a private investigator in my life, but Dad and I lead very different lives. How can he talk about investigating someone so casually? I’d think it’d be a more serious undertaking.
“If you judge it necessary, then by all means,” I tell him noncommittally.
“We’ll see what comes of it.”
“Okay.” So that warranted an in-person trip? It’s usually him summoning me to his office.
“I spoke with Angelina. She said you and Serena are doing a great job convincing everyone about the marriage.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to thank him for the praise, but based on his expression, he didn’t intend it as a compliment.
“What do you know about her?” he asks casually. With Dad, though, nothing’s casual.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Why’s he asking about Serena? “What do you mean?”
“Do you think she could have anything to do with what you suspect her father of?”
My jaw tightens. “No. She has nothing to do with Greg’s business.”
“But she’s after money.”
I stay silent, waiting for him to elaborate. He wouldn’t have made a statement like that if he didn’t have a reason.
“You put in a requisition yesterday to donate to the Montague Animal Foundation. A pretty sizable donation.”
“It’s a good cause. We contribute to charitable organizations all the time.”
“When it gets us seen. When we have a front row table or our name is on it. I’m not funding something that has Montague’s name on it.”
“We’ll send a notice to the media about it then. Make sure we get credit.” He stares at me, silent. “I’ll see if she’s willing to change the name of her nonprofit too.” Even though it’s her last name.
“What else has she asked you to pay for?”
What’s his problem? “Nothing.”
“Then what about these pricey renovations to your apartment?”
I clench my teeth harder. Does he have cameras on me or something? Shouldn’t he trust my judgment? “A pipe burst in the bathroom. Everything needs to be replaced.”
He nods, unimpressed with my explanation. Even though it’s the truth. “Nothing else then?”
I shrug. “Some clothes and other things that got damaged by water. She’s not high maintenance. She’s barely asked for anything. And also, she’s my wife. I’d think you’d want her to spend money. Look a certain way. She reflects on the Bishops.”
“Well, if this thing with Montague Media turns out to be serious, you should start distancing yourself from her now.”
I stare at him, unable to believe what I’m hearing. “I just spent the last week and a half getting closer to her.”
His narrowed eyes don’t bode well for me. “You mean making it look that way.”
“Right. But I’m not going to shun her. She’s my wife.”
“Archer, it’s a fake marriage. You don’t owe her anything.”
But I do. Even if we hadn’t recently embarked on this new physical side to our relationship, I still promised to take care of her. Promised not to leave her. And I don’t go back on my promises. I value my word meaning something.
“We’ll have to agree to disagree,” I say as diplomatically as I can.
His brows furrow, that vein in his forehead popping, the one only Gabriel makes appear. “Have you fucked her?”
Jesus. “No.” Technically. Though it’s only a matter of time at this rate. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
His lips thin, cold ice in his gaze. “It is my business. Especially when you’re thinking with your dick. Don’t forget what she married you for. It had nothing to do with you.”
No, it may not have started that way, but it’s turned into something more.
“She’s got you funding her little animal project,” he continues. “But don’t give her anything else. And if her father’s trying to pull one over on me, she’s guilty by association.” He stands, pointing a finger at me as if I’m a child he’s scolding. “No more photos together, no more events. Lay low until we figure out what’s going on with Montague. Got it?”
“Yes, sir,” I grit out, knowing any defense of Serena will only anger him more.
“You’re getting as bad as your brother,” he mutters as he exits my office.
He meant it as an insult, but I don’t take it that way. Gabriel stood up for what he believed in and got out from under Dad’s thumb. There’s something to be said for that I’m coming to realize.
I stand at the window looking out at the city for a while after he leaves, his presence lingering in the room. If I’d known about the mess I’d create relaying my discovery about Montague Media’s financial discrepancies, I might never have gotten involved t
o begin with. I was considering it from a business standpoint, not a personal one.
I guess that was my first mistake. Everything is so intertwined now.
He didn’t outright say it, but if he feels slighted by Greg and calls this buyout off, does he expect me to call the marriage off too? This isn’t as simple as breaking up. We’re legally tied together.
I’ve never gone against Dad, but this…
There’s no truth to his ridiculousness, right? She’s not with me for my money. She didn’t even plan on marrying me. She was supposed to marry Gabriel.
My chest twinges, and I rub at it absentmindedly, pulling my cell out of my pocket and answering without looking, closing my eyes in relief as Connor’s warm voice comes through the line.
“Hey, I meant to call you last week,” he says, “but time got away from me. You holding up okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“You sound tired.”
Well, the good mood Serena put me in this morning is definitely gone now. “Just dealing with Dad.”
He chuckles softly. “I know how that is.”
“He’s not usually this bad. Ever since the wedding, he’s got a bug up his ass about everything.”
“He doesn’t have Gabriel to take it out on anymore. Guess he’s splitting it between me and you now.”
I didn’t think of that. That’s one more thing I need to apologize to Gabriel for. I never realized how much he took the brunt of Dad’s moods until recently.
“So he’s on your case too?”
He sighs. “Yeah. Some major stuff’s been going on over here.”
“Like what?”
“So I’m working on getting this call center up and running, right? Building’s finished, we’ve hired workers, I’ve got the import license to bring all the equipment in, but customs won’t release our stuff to us. I assumed by the time I came back from your wedding it’d be cleared, but no.”
“Dad hasn’t mentioned any of this to me.” If he wants me to be a leader so badly, shouldn’t he be sharing problems like this about the company with me?
“Well, he doesn’t come off looking too hot in the rest of the story.”
Marrying the Billionaire (Bishop Brothers Book 2) Page 15
