CHAPTER ELEVEN
ARCHER
KELSEY MARCH. SHE OF THE SHARP tongue and incredibly hot, responsive body. A deadly combination. I couldn’t get her out of my head. Didn’t want her out. No, I wanted her in. In my head, in my blood. Making me jacked up and alive again. Driving everything else out with her predict the unpredictable and her cool, blue eyes and the blushing that pissed her off.
I was more turned on than I’d been in months. Aching. I cooled off a little during the long hike back to the hostel, but the second I walked into my room, I hit the shower and jerked off like a fifteen-year-old. Imagined pounding into Kelsey March like a piston, her legs pushed up to her pretty tits, her body shaking with every thrust. She’d wanted to scream in the kitchen when she came. I’d practically felt her swallow that scream back down.
Next time, she wasn’t going to hold back her scream. Not a single moan or whimper. I wouldn’t let her.
Even after the shower, my head was still filled with thoughts of her. I got dressed and pulled my notebook out of my duffel.
An idea had kicked into gear last night as I sat on Kelsey’s sofa. Characters and plots for a story. I drew a few sketches and wrote down some names. Though I hadn’t written in years and didn’t know if anything would come of this, it felt good to be inspired.
I worked for an hour before heading to Liv and Dean’s to return my brother’s clothes and pick up the trailer key, which I’d forgotten last night.
When I got to the apartment, a pleasant older woman opened the door and introduced herself as Marianne, the café hostess and part-time nanny to Nicholas. She stepped aside to let me in, bouncing Nicholas in one arm.
I took Nicholas’s chubby hand between my fingers, giving it a little shake.
“Hey, buddy. You get some eggs and bacon for breakfast? A good cup of coffee?”
Nicholas scrunched up his face. Marianne laughed.
“Would you like to hold him?” she asked then plopped Nicholas into my arms before I had a chance to respond. “Liv said you needed the trailer key, so let me get that for you.”
She disappeared into the kitchen. Nicholas and I looked at each other. He stuffed his fingers into his mouth and drooled.
“Don’t do that, man,” I told him. “Girls’ll tell you it’s not cool to drool.”
He drooled harder. Since he’d liked the plants on the balcony the last time, I went over and let him look out the window. He was a good, solid size. I’d always thought newborns must be hard to hold since they were so small, but a five-month-old—or Nicholas, at least—was sturdy enough that it didn’t feel like I could break him.
“Here we go.” Marianne came out of the kitchen with a key attached to a plastic tag.
After thanking her and waving goodbye at Nicholas, I drove up to the Butterfly House and parked beside Dean’s and Liv’s cars.
I climbed off the bike as Dean approached from the house. Wariness flooded the air. We stopped a few feet from each other. My fists tightened. I was ready for a fight.
“You get the key?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“Okay. The wood was delivered a few days ago.” Dean nodded to the house. “You can start on the first floor. We’re doing the stairs, too. All the tools and equipment are in the front room. Let me know if you need anything. I’m working on rewiring the basement. Liv is painting one of the bedrooms.”
He turned and walked away. My fists unclenched. I knew Dean wouldn’t let me off the hook about Kelsey that easily, but I’d take the reprieve. And despite my spotty job history, I knew how to work. I could sure as hell work fixing up a house.
I dropped my stuff off in the trailer and went into the house. Felt good, the half-finished, empty rooms, the familiar smells of sawdust and drywall mud, the exposed subfloors. I found a tool belt in the front room and put it on, checked out all the equipment, and got to work.
I spent the next few hours putting down an underlayment and laying the first boards. Glad not to think too much except for measurements and planning. Too much thinking and my head would fill with the desert. Mick’s garage, dirt biking, bars, nameless women. Dry heat, sharp cacti, and snakes.
I slammed a nail into a board. Too hard. The wood split. I cursed and grabbed a crowbar to yank it up. I tossed the broken board into the corner.
I stripped off my gloves and tool belt before going in search of something to drink. Liv and Dean stood together in the overgrown garden. Dean was gesturing toward the wooded area surrounding the property, like they were making plans about what to do with the yard.
I stopped at the side of the house. A stab of envy hit me. Hadn’t felt anything like it in years, not since things broke between my brother and me. I went my way. Dean went his. Everything had always come easily to him, and I’d figured nothing would change.
But until now I hadn’t had to actually confront it. Hadn’t had to see his beautiful house, cute kid, successful career, and his generous, pretty wife.
Liv nodded in response to what Dean was saying and wrapped her arms around his waist. He kissed the top of her head, then slipped his hand under her chin and lifted her face so he could press his mouth against hers. She leaned right into him, like he was a magnetic pull she didn’t want to resist.
Whatever they had together, it was good. Even I, a guy who didn’t know much about good, could see that.
And it was easy, too. Like it always was for Dean.
They turned and started toward Liv’s car. I walked around the other side of the house to the front porch. After the sound of the car engine faded, Dean approached the house, holding a six-pack of soda so cold the cans were sweating.
“From the cooler,” he said. “Want one?”
I nodded. We sat on the porch steps. He handed me a soda and took one for himself. I popped the tab and took a gulp, wiping my mouth on my sleeve.
I was discovering that it was easiest to deal with my brother by preempting him. At least that way, I wasn’t the one caught off guard.
“I’m not messing with Kelsey,” I said. “Not in the way you think.”
He didn’t respond for a minute.
“She’s a good friend,” he finally said. “I don’t want her to get hurt.”
“You think I do?”
“I don’t know what you want. I’m still trying to get used to the fact that you’re even here.” Dean glanced at me. “I’ve seen you… what, twice in five years?”
“Yeah.”
“And for the last twenty years, I haven’t even known what you were doing,” Dean continued. “The only time I did was when Mom called to tell me you were in trouble or needed money.”
Shame rose in my chest. Out of guilt, my mother had never turned me down when I’d asked for money or anything else. She’d spent years bailing one son out of trouble while idolizing the other for his successes. It would have been biblical, if it weren’t so pathetic.
“If you want me to leave, I’ll leave,” I said.
“I didn’t say I want you to leave.”
You also didn’t say you want me to stay.
Irritation scraped my chest. “So… what? You’re going to spend the next couple of weeks snarling at me about Kelsey?”
“No.” Dean shook his head. “You just watch yourself.”
“‘We’re wanted men.’” I made my voice nasally and sharp. “‘I have the death sentence on twelve systems.’”
Dean blinked.
“Star Wars,” I supplied. “The Mos Eisley bar scene.”
He still looked blank.
“Aw, come on, man,” I said. “Don’t tell me your head is so stuffed with medieval crap that you don’t remember lines from a movie we saw a hundred times.” I tilted my head back for another drink. “That would be a damn shame.”
Dean pushed to his feet and started down the steps.
“‘I’ll be careful, then,’” I called after him.
“‘You’ll be dead,’” he replied, not turning around as he strode to his car.
I grinned. “Atta boy.”
After working on the house all day Sunday, I called Kelsey the following morning. I had a limited time with her. I wasn’t going to waste it by dragging things out. Especially now that I’d had a taste of her explosive heat. A taste of the fire that melted all her ice.
“Hello?” Her voice was scotch and honey.
“What are you wearing?” I asked.
“A frown.”
“Mmm. Sexy.”
“Archer, I’m at work,” she said tartly.
“In a classroom?”
“No. I’m in my office.”
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
“So tell me what you’re wearing.”
There was a pause. Taut energy crackled over the line.
“Archer, I had rules because I have boundaries—”
“One rule,” I told her. “No boundaries. Not with me.”
“Or what?” she challenged.
“Or you don’t get fucked.”
She inhaled sharply. “You are so crude.”
“Uh huh. And you like it. What are you wearing?”
“A suit.” She sounded cross. “A tailored, gray wool suit.”
“And underneath?”
“A blue, Brooks Brothers dress shirt.”
“And under that?”
“I’m not going to tell you.”
“I dare you to tell me,” I said.
“I do not accept the dare.”
“Then I double-dog dare you.”
She gave a muffled laugh, like she was trying not to. “What are you wearing?”
“Jeans and a T-shirt. I’m all hot and sweaty from working.”
“Really?” Now she sounded intrigued. “Are you wearing a tool belt?”
“I was.”
“Hmm.”
“Tell me about your sexy underwear,” I said.
“No.”
“You’ve got a bad attitude, lady. You need to be spanked as well as fucked.”
She made a noise that sounded like a half groan, half laugh. “You do go all out, don’t you?”
“You haven’t seen anything yet. You ever been spanked?”
There was a second of silence, as if she was thinking.
“No.” She almost sounded surprised. “I haven’t.”
“First time for everything. What color is your bra?”
A sigh came over the line. “Blue, okay? Dark blue satin with white trim.”
“Matching panties?”
“Yes.”
“Are they wet?”
“God, Archer. Yes.”
I rubbed my erection through my jeans. “What about your shoes?”
“Gray pumps with three-inch heels.”
“I’ll be at your place at seven,” I said. “I want you waiting in your heels and lingerie. Nothing else.”
“And if I’m not?” she replied, putting some of that defiance back into her voice.
“You’ll be in trouble.”
“So if I am, I avoid… um, punishment?”
I laughed. “Nice try, storm girl. But you’re getting spanked no matter what.”