Page 34 of Pretty Lies & Ugly Truths

He continues his path, slowly trailing up and down the bare skin of my back over and over, leaving little licks of fire in his wake, making me throb with want.

His rough fingers move over a particularly ticklish spot on my side that makes me squirm and causes the sheet to shift lower on my hips, exposing the top of my panties.

He pauses for a moment, his hand resting low on my spine, before continuing his downward path until he reaches the lace band. He lingers there as he strokes left to right over and over before dipping a finger just underneath the material.

Goosebumps erupt to cover my exposed skin, and I let out a needy whimper.

He stills, and I lay there with my eyes closed, waiting to see what he will do. I’m unsure what I’m hoping for—whether for him to stop or to keep going, I don’t know. My mind and my body warring with each other.

It’s evident my body wants him, considering how wet I am from just his simple touch, but he has made it clearhe isn’t looking for a relationship, and I’m not sure I can do anything less, especially not when it comes to him. If tonight has shown me anything, it’s that despite his cold exterior, he has a warm, and caring heart underneath.

He may think he isn’t a good man, but everything he has done for me has proven otherwise, and if I’m not careful, I can see where it would be really easy for me to fall for Archer Wilder.

With a heavy sigh, he removes his hands, leaning down to feather a soft kiss over the small of my back before righting my shirt. As he stands, he pulls the blanket up over me and tucks me in.

“Archer,” I whisper, and he pauses at the door. “Thank you.”

He doesn’t look back; he just nods once before flicking off the lights and walking out the door. Just before it closes, I hear him say, “Sweet dreams, my Little Rose.”

As I lay there in the dark, muscles relaxed and eyes heavy with sleep, I wonder just how I’m supposed to guard my heart when he goes and does sweet things like that.

13

Archer

Iflip the omelet in the pan, turning down the heat as I try my hardest not to burn it.

I am certainly no chef. Living alone for so long, I rarely cook for just myself, instead opting for takeout or something I can grab and go. However, I figured Maggie would be hungry, and I wanted to make sure she was fed.

So, here I am, at too damn early in the morning—in the kitchen I rarely use—cooking us breakfast.

If there is one thing I have learned about Maggie over the past few weeks, it’s that she is the quintessential morning person. Whereas I am more of a night owl, she is up every day with the sun, which is why I’m starting to get concerned. It’s after ten, and I haven’t heard her moving around yet.

Worried something might be wrong, I’m about to go up to check on her, when I hear her coming down the stairs. I continue cooking, my back to the doorway, but I spin around when I hear her sharp intakeof breath.

My eyes roam over her, making sure she’s okay, trying to gauge how bad she’s hurting. Only, it’s not pain I see on her face—it’s hunger.

It seems my Little Roseishungry, and not just for the breakfast I’m cooking.

What I’m doing is a bad idea. I should turn away, go upstairs and put on a shirt, anything to stop this, but I am so tired of fighting it.

It nearly killed me to walk away from her last night, not when I could tell she wanted me to make a move, when I could feel the way her body vibrated under my touch, and God, those fucking noises she made…

They drove me damn near out of my mind. I barely made it to my room before I pulled out my straining cock and fucked my fist until I came all over my hand like a goddamed teenager, the sounds of her needy little cries still ringing in my ears. Still, it did nothing to dispel this tension that has been brewing since I first laid eyes on her.

I have nothing to offer her, and this could never be anything more than physical, but as her hooded eyes rake over my naked chest, slowly lowering to where my sweatpants sit low on my hips, I can’t find the will to care.

Maybe my brother’s right. We are two single consenting adults. This arrangement was never going to be more than temporary anyway. Once her apartment is ready and I make sure the threat is eliminated, we will part ways.

Maybe, we can both carve out a tiny slice of happiness—if only for a little while.

Reaching out, I turn off the burner and lean my hip against the counter, allowing her to look her fill. Her little pink tongue darts out to wet her lips, and my hands clench so tight on the counter, my knuckles crack.

It takes every ounce of strength to keep myself from throwing her down on the counter and eating her for breakfast instead.

“Hungry?” I rasp. She lets out a small sound, her head snapping up to meet my gaze. A beautiful pink blush colors her cheeks, and I’m unable to stop the smirk that takes over my face.

“Umm…what?”

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