Secret Sins (31 page)

Anna paused, her nostrils flaring as only her gaze lifted.

“You provide a roof over my head and keep me safe. I appreciate it.”

She appreciated it?

He provided a roof over her head and she fucking appreciated it?

“You fixed my dinner because you appreciate being able to live here?” he asked carefully.
“Fuck you, Anna. I don’t want or need your damned gratitude. That’s not why I do it,
I do it because—”

Because—the thought of anything happening to her had the power to make him enraged.
Because he had to hold her. Because she fucking belonged to him.

And he knew he couldn’t tell her that.

“That’s what I’m supposed to do.”

Fuck. That sure as hell wasn’t the right thing to say.

“Because it’s what you’re supposed to do?” Fury lit in her gaze. “How dare you look
me in the eye and say something so damned asinine? Are you actually trying to tell
me you’re protecting me because it’s your fucking job?”

Archer almost winced. Hell, he hadn’t wanted it to come out that way. That wasn’t
actually why he did it.

“That wasn’t exactly what I said.”

“That’s exactly what you said. You said you were doing it because you were supposed
to. Because it’s your job. Well, I’m not your fucking job, Archer.” She smacked the
plate she was holding to the table.

Archer stood up slowly, leaning forward, his hands bracing on the table as he came
nearly nose to nose to her. “No, what you are is driving me damned fucking crazy.”

“Then why do you even bother having me here? Why not just go ahead and ship me off
to the ranch with Skye and Cami?”

“Because it pleases me at the moment to have you here,” he snarled back at her, feeling
his body heating, the need to grab her, to kiss her—

Hell, if he didn’t fuck her pretty soon then he was going to have a stroke from the
blood pounding directly to his dick.

“Well, I’m so glad that much pleases you at the moment, because I’ll be damned if
I’m in the least bit pleased, Archer Tobias,” Anna snarled back at him. “And since
you evidently appreciate dinner, you can take care of the damned dirty dishes.”

She turned to leave.

“Oh, I don’t think so, sweet pea.”

Moving into her path before she could rush from the kitchen, Archer blocked her way.
Grabbing her hips, holding her to him, he glared down her as her slender hands pressed
against his chest.

“Get out of my way,” she demanded, her voice rough. “Now.”

“Like hell.”

He wasn’t stupid. Her nipples were as hard as his dick was. Her eyes might be spitting
fiery anger, but the hunger, the need was just as hot.

*   *   *

Despite the anger sizzling through her, Anna could feel arousal beginning to melt
inside her womb. There was something about the dark, brooding dominance in his expression
and burning in his eyes that almost mesmerized her.

His hands clenched at her hips. “I’m damned tired of trying to stay the hell away
from you to keep your stitches from stretching or your exertions from scarring your
thigh. So if you’re going to have problems wearing those pretty bikinis if you have
a scar, then you better get the hell away from me before I strip your ass down and
fuck you until you’re screaming with pleasure.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“You haven’t touched me because you were afraid I would scar my leg from that wound?”
she questioned him furiously.

“I don’t give a damn,” he growled. “I said, if it will affect your opinion of yourself
or your ability to wear a bikini, then now is the time to say something.”

“My opinion of myself? You think a scar would change my opinion of myself? Do you
really think I’m that damned shallow, Archer?”

Her arms went akimbo, her fingers spreading over her hips as one cocked, delicate
foot pointed toward him like an exclamation of anger. Archer watched as her lips pursed,
her skin flushed, and both anger and burning arousal heated in her gaze.

“No, I don’t think you’re shallow, and neither do I believe the scar should bother
you, before you get that one in your head. I just didn’t want to take the chance that
it would. The doctor was very specific, Anna. No exertion or there will be a scar.”

“What exertion?” Her arms lifted in exasperation before spreading across her hips
once again. “Sex?”

“Sex,” he snapped back, suddenly uncomfortable with that description of being with
her. “That wound is at the outside of your thigh. During sex your thigh muscles flex
and tighten often, Anna. It could tear the stitches or stretch the newly bound skin.”

“Or maybe you just prefer not to have sex with me any longer.” The sudden uncertain,
bleak pain that filled her eyes sliced at his chest.

“Where the hell did you come up with that?” Incredulity snapped through his senses
as he stared back at her in disbelief.

“Only a man who no longer wants a woman could come up with something so asinine,”
she retorted as moisture shimmered in her gaze. “Because it’s not possible to use
your thighs more having sex than you do sitting down, standing up, or walking all
damned day long,” she cried out. “Go to hell, Archer, because I know how to pack too,
and how to get my own ride out to the ranch with Cami and Skye.”

And that was exactly what she would do.

“Like bloody fucking hell,” he snarled. “I won’t let you deliberately misunderstand
this, Anna, just because I’ve done something you didn’t agree with.”

“Oh, is that how you see it?” she snapped, giving him a hard push with her hands flat
against his chest. “And exactly why should I stay with a man who arbitrarily believes
it’s just fine to make such decisions for me? To force me to do without my pleasure,
without one of the few things that son of a bitch, the Slasher, hadn’t been able to
take from me. You took it without so much as discussing it with me. I’ll be damned
if I need someone who believes they can simply take over my life and control me without
so much a by-your-leave.”

Archer almost paused, because she was right. He should have discussed it with her;
he should have given her the choice rather than believing it was his place to protect
every aspect of her life.

And where he had that idea, he didn’t have a clue.

He wasn’t about to admit that to her though. Instead, Archer shook his head, smiling
slowly as he backed her against the kitchen counter.

“That excuse isn’t going to fly,” he warned her.

“I don’t have to have an excuse,” she informed him, sensuality suddenly gleaming in
her expression, flushing her face. “I’m right and you know it! You held back my pleasure
and my right to an orgasm because you have a damned He-Man complex.”

A slender, delicate finger dug into his chest with each of the last few words of that
declaration. But it was the word “orgasm” that tightened his stomach and his balls
simultaneously.

Archer glared down at her, his hands tightening at her hips. “Do you really think
you’re going to get away from me so easily?”

“Pretty much,” she assured him, her brows arching, her chin tilting defiantly. “What
are you going to do, Archer? Arrest me?”

The thought of handcuffing her to his bed held definite appeal.

His cock jerked at the thought, hardening impossibly more.

“Oh sweetheart, you have no idea of the appeal of handcuffing you to my bed.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” But excitement was slowly gathering, burning in her eyes. The
challenge burning there was definitely a dare as well. Feminine, rife with arousal
and challenging him to control it.

She was right; he had no right to make decisions where her protection was concerned
without discussing it with her first. It was a mistake he would not consider making
again.

That didn’t mean he was going to let her get away with this little display of hers.

Hell no.

He’d spent far too many years watching out for her, maneuvering to get her home for
vacations because he knew that was what she wanted, what she needed.

“I would dare many things, Anna, to ensure your safety.”

“To ensure you kept your playthings about is more like it,” she protested, albeit
weakly as his head lowered, his teeth nibbling at the sensitive lobe of her ear.

“Make me
your
toy then,” he told her. “Come on, Anna. Show me how you play.” He nipped the side
of her neck, licked the little wound. “You can even show me how you get serious.”

*   *   *

A shiver raced up her spine and heat sparked, hot and tempting, spearing straight
to her womb as her pussy began to ache, to clench in hungry need.

“I’ve been dying to see you in these pretty little skirts,” he breathed out roughly,
his hands sliding from her hips to her thighs, bunching the soft material in his hands,
pulling it up far enough so his hands could cup the curves of her ass, left bare by
the silk of her thong panties.

Slick and hot, her juices gushed from her vagina, the feel of them sliding over the
sensitive inner flesh dragging a low moan from her.

Archer’s lips covered hers, his tongue licking over the seam of them. Pleasure washed
over her, through her, as his lips sipped at hers, his tongue licked and stroked,
penetrating her lips with a slow, sensual glide.

She could be pissed again tomorrow, Anna decided. Tonight she wanted him, ached for
him. She’d ached for him for over a week, needed his touch.

Tonight she wanted to fill the loneliness with his touch, the hurt and betrayal with
pleasure.

Parting her lips, Anna’s tongue peeked out as his licked over the lower curve of her
lips. Her hands, first pressed against his shirt and then moved to the buttons holding
the material together.

Clumsy, fumbling, Anna struggled with the too tiny discs until, finally, the last
one came free, revealing the hard contours of his chest and the light mat of dark
blond curls that tempted her fingers.

Pushing back from him, she stared up at him, and Archer had no idea what was causing
his chest to tighten. His body hardened with such feeling that making sense of it
was impossible.

“Archer,” she whispered, her hands tightening on the material of his shirt, trying
to still the trembling he’d glimpsed.

There was a need in her eyes, a hunger he couldn’t decipher.

Her lips trembled before she stilled them, but she couldn’t erase the unconscious
plea in her gaze, which she had no idea she was showing him.

“Whatever you want, Anna,” he said, his lips brushing against hers. He watched her
pupils flare, watching the lust, seeing some deeper, darker emotion he couldn’t allow
himself to acknowledge in the dark sea-green of her eyes.

Clenching his fingers in the curve of her ass, feeling the muscles clench beneath
his hold, had him fighting the need to take her as fast, as hard as possible.

But it wouldn’t be enough, Archer knew. It wouldn’t be enough for him, because he
could sense what she was silently aching for, feel it in the tightening of his chest,
though he was unaware of exactly what it was.

“Tell me, Anna,” he said. “Tell me what you want, baby. Don’t you know I’d give you
anything you asked for? If I have it, it’s yours.”

If he could give it to her without asking, then he would. If he could read the desire
raging in her eyes, then he would do whatever he had to, to ensure she had it.

She licked her lips, the sight of her little pink tongue tasting them tightening his
balls. Her breathing accelerated, her breasts rising and falling beneath the light,
silky material of her white sleeveless blouse.

Her gaze turned somber then, a flash of uncertainty sparking deep in the pretty green
orbs.

Archer lowered his lips to her ear again, caressing the curve of the delicate shell
as he spoke.

“Whatever you want, baby. Don’t you know, in this, I would give you whatever you want,
Anna, however you want it.”

She arched against him, her head tilting to the side to give him greater access to
the flesh beneath her ear as he continued kissing the soft curve.

“Please, Archer.” She shook her head, and he could see the uncertainty, the hesitancy
raging inside her.

“Don’t you trust me, Anna?” he asked, kissing the corner of her lips. “Do you believe
there’s any pleasure you want that could possibly turn me off?”

Her lips trembled.

There were no tears in her eyes, and the need was only growing, burning hotter inside
her.

“Archer.” The uncertainty filled her voice.

Lifting his hand, his fingers touched her cheek, his thumb brushing against her lips.
“Yes, baby?”

“I want the fairy tale.” Hoarse, nervous, the plea caused him to slowly still as he
held her against him. “Just tonight, Archer. Just this once, let me know what the
fairy tale feels like.”

The fairy tale.

Archer’s eyes closed.

Burying his face against the curve of her neck, a grimace tightened his expression
as he fought to hide it from her.

Just for tonight, his Anna wanted to be loved. She wanted to know what it felt like
to be loved, to have someone be “in love” with her.

He didn’t believe in being “in love”; Archer knew what the illusion of it could do
to a man though. How it could destroy his life, rip his guts out day by day.

But women—

Love could strip the life from a woman’s soul and leave her drifting, her heart and
her soul torn from her body as she existed, nothing more.

He didn’t want that for Anna.

But didn’t she deserve just one dream in her life? Didn’t she deserve just a little
illusion to make up for everything that had been taken from her?

But how could he give her that dream?

He was a man who didn’t believe—

She stiffened beneath him.

“Just for tonight,” he whispered, feeling something slowly loosen so deep inside his
soul that he had no idea what it was. “Just for tonight, let me love you, Anna.”

CHAPTER 18