Page 123 of Beautiful Thing

“Please, Archer,” she mumbles against my lips one second before I push into her tight, wet cunt.

I fuck her. Fast. Rough. Deep. Making the shelving unit shake.

Layla works her hips and clings to my shoulders and cries out my name.

My climax is approaching quickly. I bury my face in her neck, sucking on her throat as I reach between her legs and find her clit.

“Oh my god, Archer. I’m coming.” Her walls clamp down so hard it makes my head go light.

Her head falls backward right as her spine arches sharply and she starts falling apart for me. I don’t last a second longer, emptying inside her with a long, helpless groan.

When we’re both past the peak, Layla wriggles out of my arms, slipping out from beneath me. I drop my head to the metal shelf and take a minute to catch my breath.

I’m sweating and still struggling to pull up my pants, when Layla clears her throat from behind me. I turn around with a sated grin on my face. Somehow, she’s already fully dressed.But her hair is a mess, her apron is askew and she has fresh hickies on her chest.

“Now, you’re ruined,” I joke. “Freshly-fucked and beautifully ruined. Just the way I like you.”

But she doesn’t smile back. “I’m sorry, Archer. What we’re doing is fun. Truly. But I’m not able to open up in the way you need me to. I’m so sorry. I just think…at this point, it’s becoming dangerous. We’re going to get hurt. Sky’s going to get hurt. I’m afraid we need to just…stop.”

I swallow. “Stop…?”

“We had rules before, and we didn’t like them.” She chews on her bottom lip. “But I’m realizing now that you were right. The rules were keeping us safe. They were protecting us.”

“The rules were bullshit,” I protest.

She takes a step back. “We need to bring back the boundaries between us. If only for Sky’s sake. I’m sorry, Archer.”

I’m fucking stunned silent. I open my mouth to argue, but Layla walks away before my brain can form a single word.

Well, fuck.

49

LAYLA

The rest of the week is heavy and awkward as Archer and I try to navigate whatever it is that’s now happening between us, all while living and working together.

I’m so fucking depressed.

It’s a wonder I can even get out of bed in the morning. And I deserve an Emmy award for all the smiles I’ve been faking this week.

This whole thing is a torture of my own making, and I keep having to remind myself that it’s for the best.

Saturday brings exactly the break I needed. A morning with the girls, for Daphne’s bachelorette brunch.

We’re at this specialty diner in Sin Valley where the menu is over the top. We share a ridiculously huge meal, with dishes covering every inch of our large table top. Belgian waffles. Fresh tropical fruit. Smoked salmon. Jams and jellies in every flavor. Casseroles I can’t even pronounce. The most decorative drinks in the prettiest glasses.

I’m not one to take pictures of my food, but everything we’re served seems more like artwork.

All the girls are here. Daphne, Inez, Nicky, Ziggy, Karli, and me. We tried to get Mrs. Brighton to join us, too, but she bowed out, wanting Daphne to enjoy her last party without her future mother-in-law around.

Silly woman.

Instead, she volunteered to babysit Sky and Stella for the day.

We’re dressed up in our best. Everyone’s laughing. And we’re successfully ignoring the male attention that keeps coming our way.

Between courses, Daphne even gives all of us the cutest gift bags, full of treats from her boutique to thank everyone for our help in the wedding arrangements. I try to refuse mine, suggesting she give it to Grandma Brighton instead. To be honest, it’s not like I’ve done a whole lot for the wedding. But she said I’m part of the family now and to shut up and enjoy it.

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