Page 94 of Unlocked

"You're a target. I'm already in danger. Getting more involved makes it worse. Your position. My position. The case. The timing. The damn Society." She ticked them off evenly. "All of it."

"Yes," he said. "All of it."

"And yet here you are," she said. "Bringing me dinner at nine o'clock at night."

Something moved across his face. "Here I am," he said quietly.

She stood. He stood at almost exactly the same moment, the way he always seemed to move when she did, that particular awareness he had of her that she'd stopped pretending not to notice.

They were very close. The distance between them had been narrowing all evening without either of them moving deliberately toward the other, and now the span, physical and mental, was almost nothing.

"Tell me to go," he said. His voice was low, urgent yet reluctant. "Tell me to go and I will."

She looked up at him. At his green eyes that had been watching her since the beginning of all of this. At the controlled, careful, complicated man who had replaced everything in her apartment and kissed her forehead in a hallway and sat across a dinner table listening to her as if every word mattered.

"I can’t do that. I won’t do that," she said.

He reached out and tucked a strand of hair back from her face, the same gesture as the hallway, except this time, he didn’t pull his hand away. His fingers curved gently around her jaw, and she felt the warmth of it all the way through.

"This is not sensible," he said.

"No," she agreed.

"It's going to complicate everything."

"Everything is already complicated," she said. "One more thing won't make a difference."

He looked at her for one more moment, the last breath of restraint, and then he kissed her.

The kiss was gentle, at first. Just a touching of their lips, and nothing else. A promise he made nonverbally, that he knew what they were getting into. That he’d protect and worship her with everything, his mind, his strength. His body.

Then he tightened his grip on her nape and eased her forward until her breasts rested against his chest, their hips pressed together. His other hand came to her waist, landed on her hip, and he pulled her closer. His kiss became more insistent, and she opened her lips under his, eagerly accepting his tongue in her mouth. A pulse between her legs, one that hadn’t really died since last night, roared to life, and tingles climbed her spine, over her shoulders, and down to her heart, which beat in time with the ache below.

She lifted her arms until they were draped around his shoulder. As he angled his head and deepened the kiss, she toyed with the short strands of his hair and lifted on her toes.

God, she wanted this. Every bit of it. All thoughts of the people she was trying to help flew from her mind. This was just for her. For them.

Archer’s hand hovered over her shoulder, and he lifted his head. “Last chance, Tatum. We can stop now.”

She cupped his cheek. “We aren’t stopping. We deserve this.” She didn’t need to say more. They were adults. They knew this would be complicated, were fully aware of the danger. This wasn’t lust clouding her judgment. This was more. So much more. “But if you’re thinking you can just finger fuck me tonight, maybe we should stop.”

He grunted and rocked his hips against hers. “There will be that. But we are also going to see how well my cock fits in your pussy.” He lowered his head until his lips were only a breath away from hers. “Hope that meets with your approval.” His palm covered her breast, and she moaned.

“It certainly does.”

Before he had a chance to change his mind, let a more rational head prevail, she gripped his shirt and tugged it free of his trousers. She dipped her fingers under the hem and found his bare skin, hot and slightly rough with the coarse hair covering his belly.

His abs jumped with the contact of her fingers, and he sucked in a harsh breath. He pulled the strap of her tank to one side and dropped his mouth to her collarbone. He sucked the skin there, then moved his open mouth along her neck, up to her jaw. She tipped her head back, and he followed the movement with kisses and nips and licks. Every touch of his lips trailed fire through her, exciting each cell in her body until her focus narrowed on just them. Just now.

Both her hands were under his shirt and pressed to his pecs, and she fingered the tight nubs at the center of the flat disks of his nipples. He gasped, then slipped one large hand inside her top, past her bra, and over the plump orb.

He pulled back sharply and grabbed the hem of her shirt. “I’m not a patient man, Tatum. I want you naked right now.”

“Not complaining. Patience is overrated anyway.” She laughed and lifted her arms over her head, letting him pull her shirt up and off.

With deft movements, he unhooked her bra and ripped it down her arms. He breathed hard, as if he’d just sprinted a mile, as he stared at her chest and licked his lips. The stark appreciation in his gaze made her feel desirable.

He cupped one breast and lifted, as if testing the weight and fit of the swell. “I promise you, one day, I’ll take my time and undress you slowly. Today isn’t that day.” He stepped back a scant foot and ripped his shirt open. Buttons scattered everywhere, and they both laughed about his impatience. He shrugged the shirt from his shoulders, exposing his fit and furry torso. She ran a fingernail through the thatch, scraping lightly, pleased when his muscles jumped. He caught her wrist and lifted her finger to his mouth and sucked it between his lips. He lathed his tongue around the tip, then bit slightly.