by Nina Lane
He moves his hands around to grip my rear, then pushes up from the chair. I wrap my legs around his waist, our mouths still clinging together as he moves us both over to the sofa. He lowers me onto it and straightens to pull his T-shirt over his head. The sight of his naked, muscular torso sends fresh pulses of heat through my veins.
I rub my breasts, pinching my stiff nipples. Electric sparks shoot to my core. Dean’s eyes darken with lust as he watches the movement of my hands, the way I squeeze my breasts together and trace my areola with the tips of my fingers.
He nods to my legs. “Spread them and touch yourself.”
A small moan escapes me. I part my legs, sliding my hand toward my pussy as Dean takes hold of his erection and starts to stroke it. And, oh god, it’s so fucking hot—the sight of him standing naked over me, rubbing his big cock in such an easy, sinuous rhythm, his gaze fixed on the juncture of my thighs. I spread them wider to show him how I’m massaging my clit and starting to fuck myself with my fingers.
“Christ,” he whispers, his breath escaping on a rush. “Keep doing that, and I’ll come before I get inside you.”
Though the thought of watching him cream over my breasts makes me shudder with anticipation, I’m more desperate to feel him pumping into me again. I slide my hand away from my sex and reach out to hook my right leg around his thighs, pulling him closer.
Thankfully, the sofa is big enough for both of us to fit with relative comfort, though I want him on top of me. He braces his hands on either side of me, his body coming down on mine with a heavy, delicious weight that presses me into the cushions and envelops me in his hot, protective atmosphere.
I coil my arms around him as our lips meet in a deep kiss that is a prelude to fucking. Dean pushes his tongue in and out of my mouth, I suck on his lower lip, and we pull back and press forward again and again. His cock throbs insistently against my thigh, but I know my husband can—and will—wait as long as necessary to prolong the intense pleasure of kissing.
I run my hand down his damp torso, the sculpted ridges and planes I’ve memorized like a map. I trace his navel and dip a finger into the indentation, smiling when he twitches a little. It’s the one place where he’s ticklish. He grasps my wrist, bringing my hand to his mouth and pressing a kiss against my palm before edging between my legs.
I part my thighs, opening for him, everything inside me burning with heat as he eases his thick cock into me, stretching me, filling me.
“Oh, Dean.” I arch my back, wanting to drive myself down on his shaft. “Do it. Hurry, please.”
With a grunt, he pushes forward and starts to thrust, getting to his knees to deepen the penetration. We fall together, letting the blissful cascade wash over us both as our bodies join again and again. I keep my eyes open, watching every nuance of his face and body—the ripples of tension coursing just beneath his skin, the sheen of sweat glistening on his shoulders, the rigid set of his features and burn in his eyes.
I grip the edge of the sofa cushions, overwhelmed by the pure sensation of everything—his hair-roughened thighs abrading mine, the push of his cock into me, the sofa upholstery rubbing against my ass. His eyes burn so hot as he rakes his gaze over my naked body. Every powerful thrust jostles me back and forth, but never does he leave me completely.
I know my husband so well. I know the instant he makes that shift from self-control to the drive toward release. My breath scorches my lungs, a delicious fever winding through my body as I restrain my own urgency in favor of watching him.
“Ah, fuck, Liv…” His breathless curse washes over my skin.
“Do it on me,” I gasp, pushing to my elbows. “I want to watch.”
He tightens his grip on my upturned knees as he thrusts into me again and again before he stills, struggling for control as he pulls out of me. My heart pulses heavily. He takes hold of his slick cock and slides his hand up and down the shaft…fast…faster… His body tenses in the instant before he comes with a groan, his seed spurting out to pool on my belly.
I pull a hot breath into my lungs, sliding my hand down to rub him into my skin as he moves back to massage my clit.
“Come on, baby,” he whispers, bracing his other hand on the side of my head and pressing his mouth to mine.
I grip his arms, bucking up against the increasing pressure of his hand as urgency winds through me tighter and tighter, and he works me with such precision and skill that—
“Oh!” I cry out, bliss coursing through me as he flicks his thumb over my clit, simultaneously pushing his tongue into my mouth.
I clutch him tightly as the exquisite wave floods my body, igniting fires through my blood. I sink slowly against the sofa cushions and absorb the sensations.
Dean lowers himself on top of me, our lips still clinging together, his hand stroking over my head. My breasts crush against his chest. Damp tendrils of my hair cling to my shoulders and forehead.
My hair. My breasts.
I wind my arms around his shoulders. He presses his face to the side of my neck, his breath gradually slowing. I tighten my hold on him, fighting the deluge of fear that now lurks behind everything I do.
Even this.
I once thought our intimacy was the one place in the world where no monster could touch us.
I was wrong.
Chapter 13
Olivia
December 3
Now more than ever, I need the Wonderland Café. There are always customers to help, tea to serve, cupcakes to decorate, birthday parties to plan. I love the bustle of the breakfast and lunch rushes, the noisy chatter, the mothers who come in with chubby babies and rambunctious toddlers.
I stand at a table in the kitchen, focusing my attention on decorating a cake and trying not to think about the fact that I have to tell all these people. I have to tell Allie, all my mom friends, Nicholas and Bella’s teachers, the café staff…
But if I can’t even say the word to myself, how in God’s name am I going to tell anyone else? How will my friends react? Will they start treating me differently?
“He’s here. Omigod, I’m so nervous.” Allie darts through the kitchen doors, looking a little frazzled. “He’s with Kelsey and Archer in the Castle Room. Wow, that cake looks beautiful.”
“Not bad, huh?”
Pleased, I step back to look at the round cake decorated with smooth, blue fondant and embellished with curlicues of white icing shaped like tornados.
The meditative act of decorating the cake, not to mention the combined excitement and worry over Kelsey and Archer’s meeting with the Storm Hunters producer, is a welcome contrast to the shock of my diagnosis. I need to be at the café right now, not only as part of my routine but for my emotional well-being.
Allie and I arrange the cake on a tray along with a carafe of fresh coffee and go up to the Castle Room, which we’ve closed for a “private” event. It’s a big deal that David Peterson flew in from LA just to meet with Archer and Kelsey about the show. The question is what he wants to talk about.
The three of them are sitting at a table by the window, and Allie and I pour coffee and slice the cake. I glance at Kelsey, who looks cool and collected in a navy suit that matches the blue streak in her hair. She gives me a smile of reassurance.
Allie puts pots of cream and sugar on the table before she and I retreat to the wait station.
“Should we leave?” she asks.
“Probably.”
Neither of us moves toward the stairs.
“Do you think he’s going to fire her?” Allie whispers, pretending to rearrange the clean glasses.
“I don’t know.”
I’m worried, though. The Cruella de Vil thing is snowballing on the heels of all the Archer fangirling, and I can’t help thinking the Storm Hunters producers won’t want to continue the series with a villainous woman in the leading role, even if she is one of the most preeminent scientists and tornado experts in the world.
On the other hand, Kelsey is nothing if not a self-
sufficient woman who gets shit done, so even if she does get fired, she’ll find a way to turn it around to her advantage.
Allie and I edge a little closer to the table so we can eavesdrop…er, I mean accidentally overhear.
“As you know, we are very excited about what’s happening with Archer here.” David reaches over to squeeze Archer’s arm. “Very excited. We really believe he’s the key to giving the show a new life. And, Kelsey, in light of the recent negativity over your role in the animal rescue—”
Here it comes, I think as my heart begins a slow descent.
“—we’d like you to consider a new storyline,” David continues.
Kelsey blinks. “What kind of storyline?”
“A storyline involving you and Archer,” David explains. “You’ve kept your relationship pretty quiet, but it’s time for us to play it up, give it more air time, emphasize it. The premise is fantastic—a hot guy who rescues animals and fixes things, and a sexy, brilliant scientist with a fiery temper and a serious case of bitchiness.”
“Hey.” Anger flashes in Archer’s expression, and he starts to push his chair back. “Watch what you—”
“Archer,” Kelsey puts her hand on his arm, her tone mild, “it’s not untrue.”
“Well.” He sits back down, still looking annoyed. “The sexy, brilliant part isn’t.”
“Look, these are just archetypes, you know?” David holds up his hands in a placating gesture. “Characters you play. We’d do a whole flirty thing between you two, stage some fights and making up, play with the whole ‘will they or won’t they’ question, and then end the season with…”
He draws his voice out, as if trying to heighten the anticipation.
“End the season with what?” Kelsey asks.
“A live, on-camera wedding for the finale!” David says, spreading his arms out in a grand gesture.
Allie gasps. Kelsey and Archer stare at David.
“What?” Kelsey finally says.
“I’m telling you, ratings will go through the roof,” David continues, shaking his head when Kelsey starts to speak again. “I know, I know. You don’t want to get married on TV. But wait until you read the contract and our offer. I’m sure you’ll be very happy to consider it at least.”
He reaches into his messenger bag for a sheaf of papers.
“David,” Kelsey says firmly, “we’re not getting married live on camera. We’re not getting married at all.”
Archer frowns at her. David blinks.
“What’d you mean, you’re not getting married at all?” His eyes widen. “You’re not breaking up, are you? God in heaven, tell me you’re not breaking up. Please don’t be break—”
“We’re not breaking up,” Archer interrupts. “We’re just not getting married on camera.”
He looks at Kelsey again as he emphasizes the words “on camera.”
“Well, when are you getting married then?” David asks. “Because we can work around it, you know. I mean, we can stage the on-camera wedding, if you’re worried about privacy, but—”
“David.” Kelsey slams her hand down on the table. “We’re not getting married.”
David sits back and stares at her. “What, like, ever?”
A strange silence settles over the table. Allie clutches my arm.
“Marriage just isn’t our thing,” Kelsey explains, gesturing between her and Archer.
“You mean it’s not your thing.” Archer is starting to look somewhat irritated again.
“I mean that we’re happy the way things are,” Kelsey says. “We’re not getting married. Especially not for a season finale.”
David is silent, tapping his fingers on the table.
“Kelsey,” he says, “considering the negative publicity about you at the moment, we need a change. We need to show you sparring with Archer but unable to resist the sexual tension, fighting with everyone else…and then finally, surrendering to the hero.”
“Surrendering, huh?” Archer asks.
For some reason, he gives Kelsey a look that is simmering with suppressed heat.
“No,” Kelsey says, not returning Archer’s gaze.
“He’s the new star of the show,” David informs her. “And the only way the viewers will stop slinging shit at you is if they know Archer, hunky dog-rescuing hero, fully accepts and loves you. Because if he loves you, the viewers will too. In other words, that man is your goddamned redemption.”
“I don’t need redemption,” Kelsey replies tartly. “Besides, I suck at the romance stuff. In five seasons of Storm Hunters, have you ever seen me get the slightest bit mushy with Archer? No, you have not. Because I don’t do romance.”
“That’s part of my point,” David says. “You need to get his groupies back in your corner. And to do that, you have to soften up, let Archer take the reins, show your girly side.”
“I don’t have a girly side.”
“Well, you’d better hurry up and get one,” David says. “Because you need to let Archer tame you.”
Allie and I wince. Kelsey’s blue eyes fire sparks at David.
“Tame me?” she replies icily. “No one is fucking taming me.”
“I’m just saying you need to—”
“No.”
David looks at Archer with exasperation. “How do you put up with her and all her damned nos?”
“She doesn’t always say no.” Archer glances at Kelsey, the heat still gleaming in his eyes before he returns his attention to David. “So how about this? We do a story where I keep asking her to marry me, and she keeps saying no.”
David lifts his eyebrows. “I like it. But how does that story end? Does she finally say yes?”
“Ask her.” Archer tilts his head toward Kelsey, who gives him a “stop it” glare.
“Look,” she says, “there will be no proposals and no romance. There will certainly not be a live wedding. I’m a scientist, for god’s sake. The show is about the science of tornados. There is nothing scientific about romance.”
“Exactly,” David says. “That’s why viewers will love it.”
“I’m not doing it.”
“And I’m not accepting your answer.” David taps the contract with his forefinger. “At least, not until you look this over. You might very well discover you have a whole crapload of girl in you once you see the terms we’re offering. If not, we’ll have to get something else going for our boy here. I’m thinking Motorcycles and More, starring Archer West.”
He gets to his feet, nodding goodbyes to both them and us before he leaves the room.
Archer and Kelsey look at each other. The air between them almost crackles with challenge.
“No science in romance, huh?” Archer asks. “What about magic?”
“There’s no such thing as magic.”
“Then what’s this?” He gestures between them.
“You know what I mean.”
“I know the thought of losing your edge pisses you off,” Archer says, leaning closer and looking right into her eyes. “So you’re going all hardcore scientist instead of playing by the rules. But I know you’re a helluva lot more woman than you are anything else.”
Kelsey narrows her eyes, even as her skin pinkens a little. “You want to do it, don’t you? The Storm Hunters romance and wedding. This whole fame thing has gone completely to your head.”
“The only thing that’s ever gone to my head,” Archer says, pushing his chair back with a scrape, “is you, storm girl.”
He winks at her and tosses a few bills onto the table before heading downstairs.
Silence falls over the Castle Room. Allie and I exchange worried looks.
“Did you two get all that?” Kelsey asks dryly.
She turns toward us. Allie quickly starts wiping down the pristine tables, and I quickly start straightening the perfectly aligned chairs.
“What?” I ask Kelsey innocently. “I only heard something about you needing to get your chick on.”
Allie approaches the tabl
e and picks up Kelsey’s uneaten piece of cake.
“Were you serious when you said you and Archer would never get married?” she asks, digging a fork into the cake. “If so, why the heck not?”
“Because it’s so good the way it is,” Kelsey replies. “Why change anything? Archer and I choose to stay together. If we got married, we’d have to, right? And I don’t like anyone or anything telling me what I have to do. Certainly not the Storm Hunters producers.”
“So what if Archer gets tired of waiting for you?” Allie asks around a mouthful of cake. “Wow, Liv, this is really good.”
“He’s not waiting for me,” Kelsey says. “We’re already together, and we both know this is how it’s going to stay forever.”
“That’s not what it sounded like to me,” Allie remarks. “I mean, with all this business about science and magic, it sounds like he’s ready to bring on the marriage challenge again. And you know I love you, Kelsey, but lord in heaven, if you keep turning him down, those fangirls are going to be all over him like ants on a sugar bowl.”
She heads for the stairs, still polishing off the last of the cake. I go to Kelsey’s table and start loading the plates onto a tray.
I have a sudden image of Dean from years ago as he and I stood at the counter in an antique store—his sudden nervous expression, the way his hand shook as he extended his credit card to pay for the cameo ring I’d been admiring, his stammered, “An engagement ring. I mean, if we…I…want to…you know. Get married.”
Marriage to Dean West. I didn’t think my heart could contain the riotous flood of love and happiness that followed his endearingly shaky proposal. There was no doubt in my mind, no question, no hesitation.
Okay, so there was a bit of confusion before I was sure he was actually asking me to marry him, but then he was hauling me into his arms and kissing me with such hot possession that everything else faded under the bright, glowing yes, yes, yes.
A cup clatters against the saucer as I put it on the tray. My hands are trembling. Kelsey stands, her eyebrows drawing together.
