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“Do I want to know why you have lube in the living room?” I rephrased my earlier question, pouring some into my hand and slicking the length of his cock.
“Don’t play coy now,” he said, scissoring his fingers apart and drawing a sharp gasp from the back of my throat.
He looked smug, and I raised up off of him until his fingers fell free. Instead of waiting for him to rearrange me, or worse, give me time to change my mind about the gentle way we were being with each other, I sat back down with the shiny head of his cock positioned at my spit-stretched asshole.
“I would never,” I promised, sinking down onto him.
It wasn’t the first time Archie had been inside of me since we’d reconnected, but it felt like it. Every synapse in my body fired off like a short circuit and fireworks flashed in my eyes as I adjusted to the thickness of his erection inside of me. He curled his hands around my waist and I could feel the sweat against his palms, the tremor in his grip.
“Normally, you know…” His words came out barely more than a breath. “I like to make you work for it, Owen.”
I shivered, his cock pulsing inside of me as he stretched me, even in his stillness.Thinkingabout the way Archie brought me to the edge over and over again was almost as good as the act itself.
“But I think I’m going to come as soon as one of us moves, so I’m going to need you to get on with it first.”
CHAPTER17
ARCHIE
I was half offthe couch, one leg braced against the cushions and the other hanging off the edge. Owen was on the floor, covered in sweat with his knees bent and feet flat. His breathing was the loudest thing in the room, even eclipsing the staccato beat of my heart that rattled in my ears.
“Thatwaspretty fast,” he mumbled before throwing his forearm over his eyes.
I managed a laugh before sliding onto the floor beside him. Without thinking, I reached over, patting the floor until I found his hand. He flipped his, palm up, and threaded our fingers together before either of us realized how foreign the move was. Owen tried to pull back, but I tightened my grip, and he stopped fighting.
After a breath, he gave another tug against my hold.
“Arch.” He paused and swallowed, the gulp almost as loud as his breath. “What are we doing?”
“Recovering.”
He gave another rough jerk of his hand, but I knew it was coming so I preemptively clamped down on him.
“You know what I mean.”
There were multiple answers to his question, one that tasted like the truth on the tip of my tongue and another that felt more like the lie he wanted to hear. But I’d spent ten years with half of my heart living outside of my chest, and I hadn’t even realized it until Owen walked back into my life. Even with as much as he hated me the first few times we were intimate, being with Owen was like coming home. He wouldn’t believe that if I told him, because all he knew of me was the number of times I’d walked away from him outnumbered the times I’d called for him.
“I know,” I agreed.
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“I want you to tell me the truth.”
He shook free of my hand and rolled on top of me, one leg on either side, with the clammy flats on his palms pressed softly against my chest. His forehead was sweaty and a chunk of curls stuck to the skin, tangling in his eyelashes every time he blinked. I reached up and brushed it back, and he leaned into my hand with a soft sigh.
He was beautiful and perfect. He was back in my life and I didn’t want to ruin it again. I wanted him to stay. No, Ineededhim to stay. But I knew on Monday I would have to put him back on a plane and send him home. He wouldn’t stay just because I asked it of him. He didn’t owe me that.
He didn’t owe me anything.
“I want to enjoy the weekend with you,” I said.
Owen’s cheeks flushed and he looked down at my softening cock. “You’re off to a good start.”
“I want you to enjoy being here,” I said, softer. “With me.”
He licked his lips, pulling them between his teeth and letting his head fall to the side. “You’re off to a good start,” he said again.
I curled my hands around his waist and let them slide down to the place where his thighs folded into a glorious, olive-tanned softness. His leg hair was dark and curled, coarse against my hands, but I touched him and he moved easily against me like he approved of the way we felt together.
