Page 52 of Ruthless Legacy

Chapter Fourteen

Archer

Kit and I play on FIFA for a good hour before Edith announces it’s time for him to go to bed. He protests, so I tell him I have some calls to make now anyway and Edith smiles at me in thanks. Kit leaves, but not before I promise him a rematch. He is a good kid. One thing for sure is that he adores his sister. He literally beamed when he spoke about her before. I get it. They only had each other to rely on, so they were close. Spending time here is playing with my conscience. My plan was to destroy Alderman’s daughter, but when she is around me, I like it.

My curiosity gets the better of me and I seek her out. She isn’t in her room, so I head down to the den, thinking maybe she’s curled up watching a movie, but as I head back out into the basement corridor, I hear the sound of a punchbag, and shaking my head I smile to myself, of course she is in the gym, punching the shit out of the bag. I chuckle to myself, thinking it’s probably my face she is imagining as that punchbag. I pause in the doorway, taking a second to watch her without her knowing. Hell, she is perfect. She’s wearing a sports bra and little navy gym shorts that mould to her tiny waist and rounded hips. My cock hardens instantly in my pants. Jesus, what am I? A twelve-year-old boy that can’t control his urges?

“You’re not punching from your waist,” I comment, making her jump, and she turns to face me. Sweat drips down her chest in-between the crevice of her tits and I find I want to follow it with my tongue.

She arches a brow at me, wiping the sweat from her forehead. “Did I ask you for tips?”

“No,” I reply, walking into the room and coming up behind her. I place one hand on her waist and hold the other just below her wrist. “When you pull back, bring it back like this and then swing at the waist.”

I release her and for a beat she stands there in silence before she adjusts her stance and does as I have instructed her to. She hits the bag with far more force than her last punch.

“You want to spar?” I ask her, pulling my hoodie over my head and heading over for a pair of gloves.

“Me and you, spar?” she says incredulously, likes it the most stupid idea she has heard come from my lips yet.

“Unless you're chicken?” I challenge, walking towards her as I secure the gloves. I’m a bastard. I know she can’t turn down a challenge and as she glares at me, she knows that I know it.

“Okay, Let’s see what you’ve got Savage.” She bounces on the balls of her feet, spritely and tiny.

She might be small, but it means she can move quickly, duck and dive, and surprise her opponent.

I hold my wrists up and watch her intently as we size each other up. I study her, looking for clues as to which way she’ll go, where she will try to hit first. She makes her move, trying to get a jab in to my side, but I block her and get one in under her right breast. I don’t hit her hard; I know how forcefully my punches can land, and the last thing I want is to explain to Wilbur why his granddaughter has a few broken ribs. She bounces on her feet and gets a punch under my arms and into my abdomen. She can throw a mean punch. I mean, it doesn’t wind me, but I feel it. As we spar, I can’t help but think whether fate is fucking with me. It’s as if this girl is made for me. She is everything I’d look for in a partner. Feisty, strong, stubborn as fuck and as sexy as sin. She gives me as good as I dish out. I make my move when she tries to duck away from me. With an arm to her waist, I slam her down into the mat, winding her somewhat and I quickly climb over her, my thighs holding her prisoner.

“Are we wrestling now?” she asks, her breathing unsteady.

Gods, how I crave her. I want to taste her again. I want to hear those breathy little moans she makes when she is close to orgasm. I want to hear her whisper my name and beg me to take her. I want to own every inch of her delectable body and know my mouth has touched every part of her. It’s while I’m distracted thinking of all the dirty and wicked things I want to do to her that she catches me off guard. She boxes me on the chin, sending me rearing backwards on to my backside and off of her. Scarlet springs up onto her feet like a coil and chuckles to herself in delight. She shakes her head at me, grinning as she pulls her gloves off.

“Oh dear, Archer. Everyone knows the number one rule. Never get distracted, as your opponent will take that as an opportunity.” She leans down and ruffles my hair, throwing her gloves in the tub by the door as she waltzes out of here. Those sexy little hips swaying as she goes.

I shake my head at myself and laugh. Scarlett just played me like a fiddle.

I wake up bolt upright in bed when I hear someone call out. Immediately on high alert, I jump from my bed and reach for my knife. I listen out and move into action when I realise it’s Eliza. She’s crying for help. I exit my room and check the corridor before I quietly open her bedroom door and enter the room, my hand holding the knife out in front of me, ready to take out whoever is in here.

She’s lying in her bed, tossing and turning in her sleep. “Please help them,” she begs in her sleep. Her face is twisted in anguish and desperation. “Save them,” she screams. Taking a breath, I place my knife down on top of the drawers by the door and softly pad over to her bed. Pulling back the covers, I climb in behind her and finding her waist, I pull her into me. “Shush, Scarlet,” I whisper. “It’s just a nightmare. I got you.” I feel her still in my arms.

“Archer,” she says, her voice barely a whisper, as she comes to.

“It’s me. I got you. Get some sleep.” She relaxes in my arms and curls her body into me. She places her hand over mine, and sighs before she stills and falls back asleep.

I lie still, listening to her steady breathing. Why am I here? Why am I comforting her in the middle of the night? I should revel in her fear, thinking of ways I can use it to manipulate her and destroy her. She turns in my arms and I still as she wraps an arm around my neck and nuzzles in against my shoulder. She doesn’t wake, instinct drawing her to me. The urge to protect her roars inside of me. I need to remember why I hated her and her family. I need to remember that she is a means to an end and that when I have what I want; I need to destroy that spirit in her. So why does it feel like the last thing in the world I want right now?

Eliza

I still when I wake up and feel warm flesh under my cheek. The Ace tattoo stares at me as I open my eyes. I search my brain, trying to figure out why he’s in my bed and, more importantly, why I am wrapped around him like a cobra. I ever so carefully lift myself up and lean on my elbow so that I can take this opportunity to observe him while he sleeps. My eyes sweep over his dark lashes, stubble lines his jaw, and those lips that speak words that make me want to punch him, look soft and tempting. I greedily sweep my gaze down his body, down past his chiselled chest and that fucking ace card tattoo, down to that dark hair that disappears into his boxers. Oh my, he’s definitely got everything working down there. His dick tents his pants and I bite my lip as thoughts of slipping my hand in and having a feel flicker through my mind. I mean, I don’t have to like a guy to sleep with him. Sex is just sex. My hand snakes down his chest and I carefully lift the elastic on his boxers. I yelp when his hand reaches out and snares mine at the wrist.

“Don’t start something if you’re not willing to see it through the entire way, Scarlet,” he warns me, his voice dry and husky from just waking up. One dark eye opens and meets mine.

“Who says I don’t want to see it through?” I ask him, chewing on my bottom lip. His dark eyes flash to mine at my admittance. I can’t deny it. I want him. I’ve tried fighting it.

“You did yesterday, when you said us having sex would be a mistake,” he reminds me, still holding my wrist prisoner, half inside his pants.

“It will be a mistake, but it doesn’t mean I don’t want to do it,” I tell him, twisting my wrist in his grip.

He surprises me when he releases my hand and places his behind his head, watching me with lazy interest. He is challenging me, seeing if I’m gutsy enough to take what I want. Keeping my eyes on him, I free him from his boxers and wrap my hand around him. He takes a sharp intake of breath, his eyes never leaving mine. Rubbing my thumb over the head of his dick, I smile when I find his pre-cum on my fingers. I move my body down until I line my mouth up with him, then wrap my lips over him. He hisses and his hips buck upwards, pushing him further into my mouth. It’s no surprise that Archer is packing down here. Everything about him is big and obnoxious. I lick, suck and kiss him, until he grips my hair at the base of my head and pulls me away. Grabbing my waist, he flips us, and I end up under him. Archer grabs my left leg and lifts it up to his shoulder as he enters me in one quick hard thrust, making me moan aloud. He fills me perfectly. He smirks down at me. Placing a finger to his lips.

---