Page 22 of Protecting Lanie

Archer continued, alternating between firm slaps and slow, soothing strokes. Her breathing evened out, something inside her shifting, loosening.

She wasn’t waiting for the pain to become something cruel. She wasn’t bracing for it to go too far. Because it wouldn’t. Archer wouldn’t let it.

Tears pricked at her eyes. It was the first time in years she had felt this way.

Safe.

Archer stilled, his fingers tracing over the curve of her hip. "Talk to me, little one."

Lanie inhaled, her chest tight. "I...” She swallowed. "I didn’t know it could feel like this."

Archer’s grip tightened, just for a second. "Like what?"

"Like you care," she admitted.

Silence stretched between them. Then, carefully, Archer eased her upright, shifting her so she straddled his lap, her knees on either side of his thighs.

His hands came up to cradle her face, thumbs brushing away the stray tears that had slipped free.

"I will never take more than you want to give, Lanie," he murmured. "And I will never let anyone else take from you, either."

A sob caught in her throat, but she held his gaze, letting his words sink in, letting herself believe them.

Archer leaned in, his lips brushing her temple, his breath warm against her skin. "You’re not alone anymore."

Lanie exhaled, sinking against him, her fingers curling into his shirt. For the first time in a long time, she believed that might be true.

Lanie had no idea why she had agreed to this.

She sat curled on the leather couch in one of the private lounges at Club Southside, knees drawn up, hands twisted together in her lap. The low lighting softened the room’s edges, but it did nothing to calm the flutter of nerves in her stomach.

Because Archer was watching her.

He stood across the room, leaning against the bar, his presence as steady as ever. He didn’t rush her, didn’t press. He simplywaited.

That was the thing about him. He was patient. Confident. Unshakable.

And she had no idea how to handle that.

"You’re thinking too hard," Archer finally said, voice a quiet command.

Lanie exhaled, shifting slightly. "Maybe."

"Not maybe." His eyes locked on hers, dark and unreadable. "You are."

She bit her lip. "I just—this is… different for me."

"I know." He pushed off the bar, his steps slow and deliberate as he moved toward her. He stopped just in front of the couch, looming over her, but not in a way that made her want to shrink.

In a way that made her want tostay.

"Come here, little one."

The words sent a shiver down her spine.

Lanie hesitated. "I don’t...”

"That wasn’t a request."

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