Page 123 of Archer

She made a soft, high-pitched squealing sound. “Well, I’ll let you get back to that. Stay out of the rain. I’ll handle Nashville until you get yourself back here.”

“Thank you.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

I set the phone on the cushion beside me, buoyed by the chat. Whatever else happened, I had a great friend and manager who would always have my best interests at heart. With her in charge of my career and Archer’s team protecting my life, I just had to keep my chin up and not let Webb steal another ounce of my joy.

Archer was at the stove when I returned to the kitchen. He had his back to me and a soup ladle in hand.

He’d given me the space and the privacy I needed. Now he was making a late lunch, because I’d been too busy songwriting to participate in the group’s mealtime earlier.

The line of his shoulders was relaxed in a way it hadn’t been all morning as I approached.

“You think I’m one of the good ones?”

I smiled. “Nothing wrong with your hearing.”

“Nothing,” he agreed.

I reached around him and turned off the stove’s burner beneath the soup, then rose onto my toes and kissed him.

Archer deepened the kiss immediately, and I laughed when he lifted me off the ground and into his arms. My legs circled him, and I locked my ankles at his back. “You’re always picking me up.”

“I like the feel of you in my arms.”

We kissed again, then a little more, my body coming alert and needy with each passing touch of his lips. In those moments, in his arms, nothing else mattered, and I wanted to drown in him.

My lips parted at his urging, and his tongue slid languidly over mine, making silent promises of fantastic things to come.

He groaned against my mouth when I arched, creating friction everywhere we touched.

“Archer,” I whispered. “Take me to your room.”

I laughed as his hold on me tightened and he raced me to his bed. He released me onto the comforter with a wicked grin and crawled over me, kissing, caressing, and removing my clothes.

I got his shirt over his head with some effort, but he was a Marine on a mission. Not easy to distract.

When he was down to his boxer briefs, and I was utterly naked before him, he came at me with a now familiar wicked gleam in his eyes.

“Mine.”

I gasped at the possessive little word and nodded. “Yours.”

He smiled as if I’d given him the keys to a kingdom. He traced my body with his hands, skimming them over my heated skin and leaving a trail of kisses in their wake. He cupped my breasts as he suckled and nipped my skin, drawing whimpers of pleasure from my core. “All mine.”

I writhed, mindless, and we’d barely gotten started. “Yes.”

Archer met my eyes and slid a hand between my legs, stoking the heat that pooled there.

“Yours,” I said.

He growled with satisfaction and pressed two fingers inside.

My head fell back at the sudden pressure, and Archer covered my mouth with his, swallowing my moans of pleasure.

He held my gaze as he worked his fingers slowly, stretching and curling them inside me, pushing me toward my crest. I lost every thought to the delicious sensation. My hips rocked against his hand, chasing my orgasm, feeling it rise like the waves outside the window. Aching to crash.