Page 9 of Summoned by the CEO (Curvy for Keeps)

And now my brain kicks back in, pushing away that certainty that bubbled up from the raw desire that Archer brought out in me. Suddenly I’m doubting it all, wondering if my body betrayed me, wondering if maybe Iama floozy, Iama whore, Iama slut who bent over for the boss. What kind of a woman gives in so easily, submits like I did, submits to . . . to . . .

Submits to him, or to herself, comes the thought, and I gasp when I remember Archer saying that to me when we were joking about romance novels or something.

Submits to his dominance or to her own desire?

Submits to his will or to her own fate?

I’m beside myself with conflict, and it’s conflict that’s coming from the simple fact that a part of me is so sure this is real, that this is love, that I’m his, just his, only his. But although at a deep, instinctual level I’m as certain as Archer is that we’re meant to be together, at another level I’m just not ready to make the leap, to just walk away from my life and into his life, into his world.

“Maybe I’m not ready to flap my wings just yet,” I whisper, hugging myself and shaking my head as I feel tears well in my eyes, roll down my cheeks. “I can’t just switch my brain off and go with pure instinct, no matter how strong that instinct is, Archer. I need time. Please give me some time. Please.”

Archer’s entire body stiffens, and I see the muscles on his broad back ripple like a pit of snakes. When he turns to me those green eyes are narrowed and intense, focused but somehow also unfocused, like he’s not just staring at me butintome, right into me, into my soul.

“I don’t wait for people to make a decision,” he growls. Then he closes his eyes and grinds his teeth like he’s forcing himself to calm down. When he opens those eyes I can see that something’s changed, that he’s made a decision, just like I sensed he’d made a decision when he stepped up and kissed me.

That decision was to claim me as his.

But this decision, I realize as a chill goes through me . . .

This decision is to let me go.

6

ARCHER

“Go,” I say, almost biting my tongue off as I force the word out. “You need time to realize you love me, that I love you, that we’re together whether it makes sense or not? All right, Angie. Then fuckinggo!I don’t wait on people to make up their minds. But I’ll wait for you. I’ll wait for you because I have faith in this. I have faith in us. I have faith in you.” I pause and swallow hard, knowing that my next words are going to hurt her but need to be said. “Even if you don’t have faith in yourself.”

She flinches like she’s been stung, but I hold my gaze. Every muscle in my body is tight and tensed, and I’m fighting a part of me that just wants to explode, grab her by the hair, spank her stubborn ass into submission. Fuck, there’s a part of me that wants to lock her up in my chambers until she figures out that love is a strange thing, that every couple comes together in their own way, that this isourway.

But I hold back.

I hold back because in some way I understand that she needs this.

And it’s not just that she needs time to think or whatever.

She needs to know that even though I’m the alpha, I’m the man, I’m the fucking king, I’m also willing to bow my head and yield when she needs it.

I’ve showed her I can dominate.

Now I need to show her I can submit.

“Go,” I say again, but this time my voice is soft, steady, gentle, full of understanding, full of love. “Go, little butterfly. Even though I want to tie you down until you see what’s so fucking clear to me, I’m willing to let you go because I know you’ll fly back to me. So go on. Go find your wings. I’ll be here, Angie. I’ll always be here. Always and forever.”

7

ONE MONTH LATER

ANGIE

It feels like forever since I ate breakfast, but it’s just eleven in the morning. Too early for lunch. But I’m hungry. I’m getting cravings that are unusual even for me. Salt and sugar. Sweet and sour. Spicy and strong. All of it. It’s like my body is going nuts.

“Maybe I’m pregnant,” I say with a nervous laugh as I glance over at my phone. My phone which has been disturbingly silent for the past month. So silent that I wonder if what happened with Archer was a dream.

Or maybe he’s just forgotten about me.

I sigh and hug myself as I realize that a part of me is hoping he’ll call, he’ll send me gifts, he’ll come bursting through the door, green eyes ablaze, muscles rippling like a romance hero of myth.

“He’d seize me in his strong arms,” I say as my smile broadens with the silly fantasy. “Kiss me hard and with authority. Toss me over his shoulder and take me to his castle. Then he’d lock me in a tower and get me pregnant year after year. The end.”

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