Page 64 of Knotting With A Stranger

“What was?” I ask, embarrassingly breathy.

“Watching you kiss Hunter,” he admits, his playful tone giving way to something more serious. “When it’s all I’ve been thinking about since our almost-moment in the study earlier.” He shifts his weight, moving imperceptibly closer. “You know, when you were practically undressing me with your eyes while we used the radio.”

“I was not,” I sputter, then see the gleam in his expression. “You’re insufferable.”

“So, I’ve been told. Usually right before I’m told how irresistible I am.”

“Don’t hold your breath for that second part,” I say.

“Well,” I say lightly. “Maybe it wasn’t meant to be. Me and Hunter, I mean.”

“I doubt that,” Archer murmurs, and suddenly, he seems much closer, though I don’t recall him moving. “I don’t believe in coincidences, Lily. You showing up here, during this storm... it feels like fate with us three. Like the universe was tired of watching us stumble around separately and decided to lock us all in together until we figured it out.”

“Fate?” I gnaw on my lower lip, trying to maintain my composure despite the heat building low in my belly. “That’s quite the line. Do you practice these in front of a mirror, or do they just come to you in the moment?”

“Not a line,” he says, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers brush my cheek, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. “Just a feeling I’ve had since you walked through the door. Like you were meant to be here.” His voice drops to a near whisper. “With us.”

I should step back. I should close the door and get my head on straight. Instead, I ask, “And what else do you feel?”

His eyes darken, pupils expanding to nearly swallow the blue. “That if I don’t kiss you soon, I might go a little insane.” He traces the curve of my jaw with his thumb. “Or a lot insane. I’m already halfway there just looking at you.”

My body betrays me, a rush of warmth flooding through me at his words. It’s complete madness—I’ve known this man for all of two days, just kissed his friend less than an hour ago, and am nursing a broken heart over another man’s deception. YetI’m drawn to him like a moth to the flame, unable to resist the gravitational pull of his presence.

“That would be a terrible idea,” I whisper, even as I shift my weight slightly forward.

“The worst,” he agrees, his gaze locked on my lips. “Completely irresponsible.”

“Reckless,” I add.

“Absolutely.” His hand comes up to cup my cheek, thumb brushing across my lower lip. “May I come in, Lily? Or would you prefer to give the hallway a show?”

The simple question, asked with such restraint when everything about his body language screams desire, breaks something loose in me. I step back, grabbing a fistful of his shirt, and pull him into my room.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he murmurs as he kicks the door closed behind him.

In an instant, I’m pressed against the wall beside the door, Archer’s body a solid wall of heat against mine. His hands frame my face as he studies me for one breathless moment.

“You’re stunning,” he murmurs, his thumbs tracing my cheekbones. “Like, unreasonably beautiful, a scent that fogs my brain, and a wit that challenges me. It’s actually annoying. Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

Before I can respond with something appropriately snarky, his lips are on mine, and whatever witty retort I might have made dissolves into a soft gasp. If Hunter’s kiss was a tide pulling me under, Archer’s is like being struck by lightning—sudden, electric, and consuming.

His lips are firm and insistent, claiming rather than asking. One hand slides into my hair, tugging just enough to tilt my head back farther, deepening the kiss with a groan that vibrates through both our bodies. My hands clutch at his shoulders, feeling the coiled strength under the fabric of his shirt.

When his tongue sweeps across my lower lip, I open to him without hesitation. He tastes of whiskey and something darker, something uniquely him that makes me crave more.

His hands move from my face to my waist, then lower, gripping my hips and pulling me tighter against him. He holds me harshly, possessively, and the realization of him longing for me draws a soft moan from my throat.

In one fluid motion, Archer lifts me, hands gripping the backs of my thighs as he presses me more firmly against the wall. My legs wrap around his waist instinctively. I roll my hips against him, drawing a sharp inhale from him.

“Fuck, Lily,” he breathes against my lips. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“At least you’ll die happy,” I quip, breathless and dizzy with desire.

He chuckles, the sound dark and promising, before capturing my lips again in a kiss that’s somehow even more intense than before. His hands knead my thighs, fingers digging in just enough to make me gasp, and I grind shamelessly against him, chasing the delicious friction.

His lips leave mine to trail along my jaw, then down my neck, finding a spot just below my ear that makes me whimper. He lingers there, alternating between gentle bites and soothing swipes of his tongue that have me arching against him, fingers tangled in his hair.

“I need to taste more of you. Need to know if you’re this delicious everywhere.”

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