Page 86 of The Strawberry Patch Pancake House
‘Of course I do,’ she said with a huff. ‘You’ve been feeding me food I’ve only dreamed about. You take care of your daughter in a way that does very confusing things to my insides. And the way your forearms look when you chop things … well, I want to lick them.’
Archer let out a surprised laugh at that and tugged her closer. ‘You think I’m doing a good job with Olive?’ he asked and she could hear the hesitation in his voice, the fear that maybe he wasn’t doing a good job at all.
‘Youbeinghere is amazing. You making an effort, youtrying, you just … loving her … it’s all perfect, Archer. Trust me.’
She was glad she wasn’t facing him because a few more tears slipped down her cheeks, but he must have sensed it anyway. His arms tightened around her.
‘This can be whatever you want, Iris,’ he said. ‘But just know, I’m here for you, too. If you want me to be.’
Iris sighed. ‘You had me with those forearms, you didn’t have to be all sweet too.’
His mouth was on her neck again. ‘Can’t rely solely on these good looks.’
‘I’m still not making any promises,’ she said, her voice going breathy as Archer sucked on the delicate skin where her neck met her shoulder.
‘I’m not asking for any.’ He slid his hand higher until he cupped her breast through her shirt. ‘This okay?’
‘Mmm-hmm,’ Iris murmured, letting her body take over. Archer’s movements were slow and languid now, his hands roving across her skin, savoring her like he said he would. He let one hand slide up her shirt, brushing his knuckles over the curve of her breast and grazing the nipple. Iris sucked in a breath, and he chuckled in her ear, doing it again.
His other arm was still wrapped around her, his hand pressed to her belly, holding her tight against him. Iris felt hot and restless all over, his touch too unhurried, too light.
‘Archer,’ she breathed. ‘Dosomething.’
He chuckled again, his laugh coasting over her skin. ‘I am doing something, Iris. I’m finally touching this sweet body of yours, and I’m not going to rush this time.’
She groaned in frustration, wriggling against him, feeling the hard, heavy weight of him on her backside.
He bit back a groan. ‘Iris,’ he ground out, his hand snaking between her legs. She lifted her top leg over his, resting it on top of his thigh. His fingers found her wet and waiting, but instead of pressing right to her clit like he had that first night, this time he used soft strokes she could barely feel, light flicks that made her want to climb out of her skin.
‘Archer,’ she nearly growled. ‘Please.’
‘Do you always want it so hard and fast?’ he asked, still teasing her, still tracing his fingers over where she wanted him, but never with enough pressure.
‘Usually, yes.’
‘No one’s ever taken their time with you?’
‘I never wanted them to,’ she confessed.
‘Do you want me to?’ he whispered, using his other hand to cup her breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers. Pleasure shot through her body, hot and sharp. Whatdidshe want? Pinned to Archer’s body, his hands torturing her, slowly, softly; did she want him to take his time? Did she want to be savored? Wasn’t that dangerous? Sex had always served one purpose in her life and one purpose only: to get off and move on.
But this didn’t feel like that, at all. This felt like sinking further into whatever this thing was between her and Archer. Did she want that?
‘Yes,’ she said. And just because she liked to mess with him, even when she was vulnerable and needy in his arms, she added a ‘Yes,chef.’
Archer groaned and rocked his hips against her in a way that suggested maybe he was reconsidering his idea about taking his time, if only just for a second.
‘Christ, Iris. How am I going to go to work if I get hard every time I hear ‘Yes, chef’ now?’
Iris’s laughter was cut off by her moan when Archer finally pressed his fingers harder, moving them in tight circles.
‘Like that,’ she crooned as Archer’s hand worked between her legs. Iris let her head drop back against his chest and gave in to the feeling of Archer’s touch on her body, to the pleasure he was slowly and tortuously bringing. He brought her close and then backed off, his touch going from hard to light and back again until Iris was a whimpering, writhing mess in his arms. She turned her head, straining to find his mouth and then it was there, on hers, kissing and licking and biting more pleasure from her body. She felt heavy and slow, hot and languid and frantic for more all at once. She let herself sink into it. Time slowed down. All she knew was Archer’s hard body at her back and his soft, warm mouth on hers, and his hands, those hands she’d admired so many nights, working and working. She forgot about coming. She forgot about why this was a bad idea. She forgot everything except her body pressed against his.
By the time Archer had shucked his sweatpants and pressed into her from behind she was so keyed up she nearly came just from the feel of him filling her.
‘Iris,’ he groaned into her hair and all she could do was whimper. His thrusts were shallow from this angle, but he was hitting something perfect and intense inside her and his fingers still pressed against her clit and Iris couldn’t hold on any longer.
Pleasure broke around her, a low keening moan tearing from her lips. She shuddered and trembled through it, Archer’s arms still banded around her. Fireworks, stars, earth-shattering, none of the usual descriptions could quite grasp how Iris was feeling as Archer continued his assault on her body. She was nothing but nerve endings and every single one was firing.
