Page 59 of The Strawberry Patch Pancake House
He did the pan-flip thing and Iris gasped. ‘You can do that drunk, too!’
Archer winked at her, and she nearly tipped off her stool in a fit of laughter.
‘Breakfast is served,’ he said, sliding two pancakes onto her plate with a flourish.
Iris dug right in. ‘These might be the best pancakes ever,’ she said with her mouth full.
Archer grinned and Iris reached out and stuck her pinky finger into his dimple. He turned toward her hand and pressed a kiss into her palm. Heat shot through Iris’s body.
‘Are you going to lick my finger again?’ she tried to tease, but her voice came out all breathy and low.
He shook his head before he ran his lips from her palm down to her wrist. He kissed the sensitive skin there and then worked his way toward her elbow, kissing and licking his way across her arm.
‘You’re so soft,’ he murmured. ‘Salty and sweet. Perfect.’
Iris sat perfectly still, except for the rapid beat of her heart. She was afraid that if she moved or spoke or blinked, he would stop. And she didn’t want him to ever stop.
‘Iris,’ he groaned. He was leaning across the island now, pulling her toward him. His lips were on her biceps, tracing the curves of her muscle.
‘Yes,’ she whispered.
He pressed his lips into her shoulder. His breath was warm on her neck. Iris was dizzy with the proximity, far drunker than she was at the bar. Drunk with wanting. Drunk with anticipation.
‘We should stop,’ he said, his teeth grazing the bare skin of her throat.
‘Or…’ she breathed. ‘We could keep going.’
He groaned. ‘We’re both drunk.’
‘Some people would argue that makes things easier.’
‘Iris.’ Her name was a rasp pulled from the back of his throat. He was still kissing her neck, soft and urgent at the same time. Iris felt it down to her toes.
‘Okay, I know. You’re right.’
Archer lifted his head and his lips were swollen, pupils blown wide. Oh God, Iris had never been one for resisting temptation and now there was a beautiful man right in front of her! Hers for the taking, if she wanted him. And normally, she would totally take him.
But he would regret it.
The thought crashed into her. Archer would regret this. He would just take it as further evidence that he was a bad father. And Iris couldn’t do that to him.
‘Let’s just go to sleep, okay?’ she said even as the entire rest of her body screamed in agony,Let us have him!
Archer blinked. ‘Right. Good idea.’
Iris got down from her seat and took his hand. ‘Make sure the stove’s off,’ she said, before she led him down the hall to bed.
In the morning, she would blame the tequila for guiding her into his room instead of her own. But if she was honest, it was what sober-Iris had been wanting to do all along.
ChapterTwenty-One
When Archer’s alarm went off at 4am, he had a raging headache, an incredibly dry mouth, and an arm draped over his bare chest. It was not his arm. It was a very feminine arm, slender and smooth. He also had a semi-erection and the vague sense that he had tasted this skin. That he’d run his lips over Iris’s delicate wrist, that he’d kissed her inner arm, that he’d nibbled on her neck.
Oh, fuck.
He peered over to the space beside him and found Iris face down in his pillows fast asleep.
No, no, no.
