Home > Stealing Home(15)

Stealing Home(15)
Author: Nicole Williams

Archer must have noticed my face creasing into a grimace or felt the skin on my arms rising, because that was when he moved his hands to my waist, floating my body down over his lap.

The cold water was forgotten again.

His hands seemed to swallow my whole waist, his grip firm, his touch insistent. My chest started moving faster when I felt his hard length pressed between my legs.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

His fingers buried deeper into my body. “Making my move.”

“In an ice bath?”

“On a fucking polar ice cap if need be.”

Beneath my hand, I could feel his own chest moving faster . . . and how had my hand wound up there in the first place? I didn’t remember putting it there.

“I need more time, Archer. You and me . . . I need more time to make up my mind.”

He sat up higher in the tub so his face was almost level with mine. “You’ve already made your decision, Doc. You know that. I know that. You might not be ready to acknowledge it, but you’ve made your decision.”

My head shook, but my other hand moved to him, forming around his shoulder. “What makes you so sure?”

“Because you’re still in this tub with me.”

“You’re holding me here in this tub with you.”

His hands fell away from my waist, but my body stayed hovering above his, my hands still formed around him.

“Because you didn’t object when I said I wanted you to attend to me tonight.”

As he said the last part, his hips flexed into me in such a way I felt heat that no ice bath could touch course through my body.

“It’s my job to attend to you . . .” When one of his brows elevated, I clarified, “It’s my job to attend to the players. How would it look if I said no when you told Coach you wanted me tonight?”

I was saying everything wrong. Everything came out sounding like some double entendre, but his body beneath mine made talking difficult. It made talking logically impossible.

“It would have looked like you didn’t want to be alone with me. In my room. Because you didn’t trust yourself to be alone in my room with me.”

Making his point, his hands moved back to me. I’d let my chance to get away go by. His fingers pulled the back of my shirt free from my pants, his palm spreading against the freshly exposed patch of skin. His hand was searing hot, the kind of heat that felt capable of branding me.

“I don’t trust myself to be alone with you,” I breathed, his hand roaming higher up my back.

“Good.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “I want to kiss you, Doc. Now. This would be a good time to tell me how you feel about the two of us.”

My stomach wrung when his darkening eyes roamed my mouth. “One request.”

“Name it.” His words echoed off the tile walls.

“Stop calling me Doc. Kind of ruins the mood.”

He fought a smile as his hand slid around the back of my neck. “Fine. Allie.”

My body trembled when I heard him say my name. It quaked again when the hard heat settled between us pressed into the space between my legs.

“I want to kiss you. And after that, I want to do more.” His hand at my neck drew me closer, water dripping down his lashes as his gaze dipped to my mouth again. “Allie.”

My heart hammered in my chest as our mouths moved closer. I could feel the warmth from his breath breaking over my lips when I whispered, “And what if I don’t want to kiss you back?”

“Then don’t kiss me back.”

His mouth covered mine then, succinctly silencing whatever objection was about to rise from me next. Successfully silencing whatever objection that could ever rise from me again when it had to do with Archer kissing me.

Luke Archer kissed like he played baseball—intently, skillfully, and like he’d spent his whole life practicing for this one moment in time. His lips tasted mine for a moment, testing me, before I felt his tongue slip into my mouth, teasing my tongue, until mine thrust into his mouth.

One kiss. One minute. I knew that if I let Luke Archer past my walls, he would consume me. I never would have guessed it could happen so quickly. So completely.

One taste. One touch. And he owned me.

Our mouths broke their rhythm just long enough for Archer to peel my wet shirt over my head. My chest crashed into his, sending more water and ice crashing over the lip of the tub.

His fingers worked my bra open and managed to slide it free without breaking our kiss. When my bare chest covered his, my nipples as hard from arousal as from the cold, something rattled deep in his chest.

“I need you.” He breathed against my mouth, his fingers working at my pants.

My hand wandered down him, drifting into the space between us. When my fingers curled around him, that rattle in his chest echoed in the room.

“I need you , too,” I rasped.

“Finally,” he sighed.

“Finally?”

“I’ve been waiting for you to say that.” As he lowered my zipper, his knuckles brushed down my panties.

“To say what?” I jolted when he pressed one of his knuckles into a certain place. “I need you? Take me now? Sorry I held out on you a whole two weeks. I know it’s probably the longest you’ve had to wait for a girl to make up her mind on that issue.”

His head shook, his eyes never leaving mine. “For you to acknowledge that you feel something for me too.” His arms twined around my waist right before he rose from the tub, lifting me with him.

   
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