He snorted against her skin and she smacked him in the chest. He caught her hand and she played tug-of-war with him, giving up when he placed her hand flat on his chest.
“Elle,” he said. “You always look perfect to me.”
“But this is what I’m trying to tell you! It’s all an illusion. It’s the magic of good clothing.” She peered into his face, sweetly earnest. “Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you?”
“No.”
She sighed. “I just don’t want you to . . .”
Cupping her face, he lifted it to his. “What?”
“Be reminded of that girl I used to be,” she whispered.
He frowned at that, completely lost. He’d thought they were playing but clearly they were not. “What are you talking about?”
“The girl who came from nowhere and had nothing and didn’t have any direction or even know who she was,” she said. “That girl! I don’t want you to see her when you look at me.”
He stilled in shock. “Elle, that girl was braver than anyone else I’d ever met. She was willing to do anything to protect her sister, to save her sister, in spite of having zero odds in her favor.”
Her breath caught as if she desperately wanted to believe him but was afraid to. “I’m not her anymore,” she said quietly.
“Yes, you are. Beneath the veneer, beneath the makeup and pretty clothes and badass sexy shoes, you’re exactly who you’ve always been. You just need someone to remind you.” He tugged her cute little sweater off her shoulders and tossed it to his desk. “Show me,” he said softly.
“Show you what?”
“Show me who you are beneath it all.”
She laughed a little breathlessly. “What, I’m just supposed to put on a striptease for you?”
“Reveal,” he corrected. “Reveal the real you.”
She crossed her arms. “Why would I do that?”
“Because I’m going to do the same.” He checked the lock on his door and hit the intercom button on the phone on his desk.
“Yes?” Mollie asked sweetly, knowing damn well that she’d sent Elle back here without warning him.
“I’m unavailable until further notice,” he said.
“What if any of the guys need you?”
“If they like their jobs, they won’t.”
“But you have a meeting in fifteen minutes—”
“Unavailable, Mollie.”
Elle stared at him as he disconnected, her arms falling back to her side.
Archer did his best to look like something she couldn’t live without. He must have succeeded because she said, “You seem like a man with plans.”
“I have you all to myself.” Finally. “I do have plans. Big plans.” Plans to make you want to keep me . . .
“You’re . . . flirting with me,” she said, sounding surprised.
“I’ve been in denial about that but yes. I’m flirting with you.”
She continued to stare at him for a minute and then seemed to come to a decision. She stepped back and untied her wrap dress at her waist.
It fell open.
So did his mouth because she was gorgeous in nude-colored, sheer lace and a pair of black fuck-me pumps.
Going up on tiptoe, she kissed him, soft. Slow.
He wanted to crush his mouth to hers and kiss and nibble and suck on every inch of her body, but she was still giving him those teasing little tastes, her breath warm against his face every time she sighed in pleasure. She rocked her hips against his and when she found him hard—which he’d been since she strode into his office to call him out—she hummed in approval.
A groan shuddered through him as she went on like that, torturing the both of them, her breathing becoming more and more labored. His would have done the same, but he wasn’t breathing at all, not even a little bit.
Her hands slid up his back, bringing his shirt with them. “Off,” she said.
Whatever the lady wanted. He yanked it off and had barely tossed it aside when she bent forward to kiss his knife scar, making his heart melt. Then she curled one of her hands around the back of his neck, wrapping the strands of his hair around her fingers as she slowly deepened the kiss, giving him her mouth, giving him everything.
He wrapped his arms around her, keeping his hands pressed against her back, doing his best to let her dictate the pace. Not easy with her tongue in his mouth and her body rocking against his. When they finally broke apart for air, she gestured for him to lose more clothing.
While she waited, he kicked off his shoes and socks and straightened, meeting her gaze. “Your turn.”
She took in his chest and abs, and he was pretty sure her pulse took a good, hard leap as she bent to take off her heels.
“Leave the shoes.”
She straightened with an arched brow. “Really?”
“Oh yeah.”
“You have some catching up to do,” she noted.
Obliging, he unsnapped, unzipped, and stripped out of his pants, leaving him in black knit boxers that did little to hide how hot he found her.
She was staring at that very evidence when she licked her lower lip, prompting him to groan and move toward her, stroking his hands up her torso. When he assisted her bra to the floor, she sucked in a breath.
“Gorgeous,” he whispered, his mouth at her jaw, his hands gliding over her trembling body. “So gorgeous you take my breath away.”
“Finish,” she said, a quiet demand that had him smiling because even when she was down, she was never out. She wanted him naked first and he didn’t have a single problem with that. He shucked the black cotton.
This time her inhale was audible, a low feminine murmur of appreciation.
“Now you’re overdressed,” he said, his mouth at her ear and he hooked his fingers into the scrap of lace masquerading as panties at her hips and slowly drew them down, crouching before her to ease them all the way down her legs. Leaning in, he brushed a kiss across one of her thighs, and then the other. And then a hip. Her belly button.
And then just south of it.
“Archer,” she gasped, her hands going to his hair.
“Right here,” he said, and he kissed her again, this time letting his tongue snake out and stroke. He worked her over, following the clues of her body as her fingers tightened in his hair and writhed against him.