Page 85 of The Sounds of Her
“I can’t,” I tell her.
“It’s okay,” she repeats. “I didn’t tell you my issues, so you will tell me yours. But you’re not alone. You may never be comfortable telling me and that is okay. You’re not helping me because you want something in return. If you ever need anything, I’ll be there. That’s all I want to say. I see you Archer.”
I almost say it. I almost tell her, but the words clog up in my throat. Instead of pushing her away, or blurting out my truth, I grip her hands, holding them in place, and lean up to kiss her.
Brooke is neither shocked nor annoyed. She doesn’t push me away or tell me to stop. She lets me twine my fingers with hers and opens her mouth to let me in.
Right or wrong, I pour everything into that kiss and fucking God help me, Brooke takes it.
Chapter Nineteen
Archer’s hands unclasp from mine and move down my jaw and neck, along my collarbone. I arch into his hands as they lower and cup my breasts, all the while his tongue is plunging into my mouth. It’s desperate and insane, and hot, and so many other things.
I should pull away. He’s confused and angry and scared. There is something he’s holding back from everyone. I want to help him, but it shouldn’t be with sex.
Except, I don’t want to stop. One hand continues over my ribcage, around to my hip, and he pulls me closer, while the other takes the weight of my breast, his fingers moving, finding my hardened nipple. I cling to him, kissing him harder, deeper, almost violently.
“Fuck,” he groans as he pulls back.
We’re both panting hard. There is no one around to witness this, no one to see Archer Harris and his fake girlfriend, to take pictures and share them with the world.
I see no hesitation or indecision on his face as he looks at me. Just raw, potent desire. He wants me, and I want him. So I lean in and kiss him again, slower this time, less of a clashing of our mouths, more an exploration. He groans, and it’s such a masculine, sexy sound I moan back.
Archer grinds up as he moves me further up his lap and his hard length presses right between my thighs, my panties are soaked, desperate for him. I let out a squeal of surprise when he moves, pushing up off the ground and rotating us. I clutch his neck, as he lays me down on my jacket, his lips moving straight back to mine. He grabs onto my thigh and lifts it up, wrapping my leg around him so he can fit between my thighs.
His lips move away from my mouth. I grab onto his hair as he kisses down my neck. His hand is under my dress now, his palm smoothing up my leg, across my hip, ghosting over the tattoo until he reaches the waistband of my panties.
Archer rises up on his knees to give himself room. I want him to touch me so damn bad, but he teases his hand over the outside of my panties, pressing at my seam so the fabric pushes in.
“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he groans, tilting his head so he can see between my legs, but the dress is in the way. He pushes it up over my hips, exposing my lower half to the sunlight and his heavy gaze.
My chest is heaving as he sits back and reaches between my legs, using both thumbs at the juncture of my thighs, slipping them beneath the sides of the fabric.
I arch up again as the rough skin of his thumbs spreads me open, working beneath the silk. His gaze is focused on where his hands are and I’m desperate for him to push inside, clenching around the emptiness is driving me crazy.
His eyes lift to my face, the slight movement of one of his thumbs has my breath catching.
“Archer,” I moan. “Touch me.”
He focuses back between my legs and pulls both hands away. I’m about to give him shit for teasing me, when he grips the fabric of my underwear and tugs on it. My hips lift so he can pull them out from underneath me. I’m almost expecting him to tear them off me, but he moves back and lowers them down my legs before tossing them to the side of us.
Groaning once more, he keeps his gaze steady while his hands run back up my legs, across my calves and knees, down the inside of my thighs. I should be embarrassed by how he is staring.
Sitting up, I pull on the straps of my dress, rolling them down my upper arms so the top falls away. I’m wearing a bra today but it’s strapless and easy to move out of the way.
“Don’t,” he says when I reach to unclasp it. I stop and look at him in confusion and annoyance.
He’s going to stop us now?
Archer moves up and over me again, his broad shoulders blocking out the sunlight, so his body is lined like there is a halo around him. He presses his face between my breasts as he pulls the bra down so my they lift, as if he is serving them up. I cry out when he takes one nipple between his teeth and pushes a finger inside me at the same time.
The sensory overload has me almost coming then and there. I pull a whole clump of grass out at the root beside us, my fingers raking through the dirt.
He kisses me again and I clutch his shoulder and the back of his head, aware of getting soil all over him. He pulls away again, only this time he’s grabbing his belt, unbuckling it, tearing at his zipper.
“I can’t do slow right now,” he pushes my legs further apart.
“I don’t want you to,” I pant.