Three Reckless Words: Chapter 17

We’re not dating and we will never be anything more.

Archer’s ‘never’ echoes in my head for the rest of the visit.

When his mother asks if I want dessert—one of Juniper Rory’s famous creations—I remember the way he told her nothing would ever happen between us.

Now I know what it feels like to get shot and have shrapnel lodged deep in your flesh.

When we retire to the living room with coffee after dinner—because that’s what rich people do—I replay his words.

Never.

Never.

Never anything more.

Okay, fine.

It’s not like I ever thought we were truly dating, even if he acted like we were most of the time. Holding my hand. Who even does that with fuck-buddies?

He’s old, though. I’m not sure he knows how casual things get with younger people these days.

I even told him to his face I would play down the suggestion we were dating to his mom, and he agreed.

So, it shouldn’t bother me.

It shouldn’t be such a big, nasty surprise.

I have no claim on him and I never pretended I did.

But he sounded so intense when he vowed I’m just his latest charity case.

Like there was never a chance it could ever be more.

Like the notion of just being with someone like me is ridiculous.

I try to stop obsessing over it and just enjoy the moment, the easy conversation with Delly as they laugh about Colt.

Only, the second we leave and get in the car back to his house—which I’m still living in—I’m stuck on that single killing word.

Never.

It’s so flipping grim.

Not just ‘probably not,’ or ‘I don’t think so’ or ‘don’t be silly.’

Never is a killshot.

Never means never.

I’m grateful for everything he’s done for me. And just because we’re having amazing sex doesn’t mean we’re soulmates destined to ride off into the sunset with Just Married painted on the car.

Logically, it’s cool, and I’ve been telling myself that ever since I overheard him.

So why does it flay me open everywhere?

Why does it make me tear up like I’m back in that stuffy dressing room before I fled Holden and the wedding from hell?

When I came back to the kitchen and heard him growling about how impossible we are, it felt like someone threw me on a bed of broken glass.

Maybe because I’ve heard it all before.

My allergy to ‘never’ didn’t originate with Archer, no. How many times have other people used that word like a weapon?

Dad used to bellow it every time I tried to step out of line.

You’ll never make it on your own.

You’ll never make a living as a beekeeper!

Never think about leaving DC again. Your life is here, Wynne.

Don’t tell me you want to break things off with Holden. You’ll never find someone like him again. He’s your future, the glue between our families, and you’re being ridiculous.

Our families.

Not me.

Never me.

And there’s that ‘never’ again, digging deeper every time with sharp, gnawing teeth.

We get back to Archer’s place after nine, just as the sun sinks below the horizon.

“Want to do anything else this evening? A movie?” he suggests as he pulls into the garage.

“Thanks, but I think I overate.” I put a hand on my stomach and force a dead laugh. “Your mom really took Juniper’s baking advice to heart, huh?”

“She cooks for ten people when it’s only three.” His laugh sounds a lot more genuine than mine. “Are you just wanting to head upstairs, then?”

“If that’s okay.”

He gives me a strange look.

“Of course.”

Great, now I’m being weird.

But the longer I’m with him, the harder it is to pretend everything’s fine and dandy.

I just need space.

Time to process the unchanging fact that this whole arrangement has an expiration date.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say as we head inside. This time, I don’t kiss him and just head upstairs, leaving him standing in the hall staring after me.

For Colt’s sake, we’ve tried to sleep in different rooms in the early mornings, though of course in reality we’ve been in the same bed most nights.

This time, I head straight to my guest room.

As soon as I’m there, I pull out my phone and call Lyssie.

“Hey, babe. How are you holding up?” she says when she answers, bright and cheerful and everything I’m missing.

My eyes fill with tears I blink away.

“Those silly TikToks of wedding meltdowns you keep sending are definitely helping.”

“Hey, it’s important you see how bad it could’ve been. You got off light.” She laughs to herself. “Anyway, what’s new?”

“Besides running away and ruining my life? How do you know there’s anything else?”

“I’ve been your friend forever, Winnie. I know when you’re BSing me.” She sniffs loudly. “And I can smell it now.”

“I don’t know why I even bother talking to you.”

“Because you love me?”

My laugh sounds brittle because it’s true. “Okay, fine. So basically, there’s this guy—”

“I knew it!” she says jubilantly. “Landlord Daddy? The guy you were telling me about before?”

“Maybe.”

“Bingo. Two for two.” There’s a pause, and I lie back on the bed, staring at the ceiling as I listen. “And you have a crush on him.”

It’s not a question.

I close my eyes. “Yeah. Something like that.”

It’s so embarrassing to admit it out loud, but today just confirmed it in the sickest way.

I have officially progressed beyond ‘attracted to’ Landlord Daddy and flown into obsessed-with-Archer land.

The fact that I’m this hurt over his honest, perfectly reasonable opinion shared in private with his mother proves it beyond any doubt.

“So what’s the problem?” Lyssie coaxes in that voice she has—the tone that drags my secrets out. “There is a problem, isn’t there?”

“Yes, there’s a problem.” I sigh. “He’s emotionally unavailable.”

“Oh. Oh, shit.” Lyssie sighs. “You really know how to pick them, Winnie. You’ve gotta break that pattern.”

“Tell me something I don’t know. But he’s not another Holden, at least. This guy, he’s divorced. Older. A lot of real, valid reasons to be leery of getting closer.” I pick at a loose nail before I catch myself and pin my hand down under my head. “Be honest, Lyss—how dumb am I being? On a scale of oops to chronic sponge brain?”

We won’t mention the fact that I’ve jumped in bed with him.

Some secrets are too precious to share, even if Lyssie’s BS radar probably tells her already.

“You’re not being dumb,” Lyssie says. “At least, not crazy dumb. It’s not like you slept with him or anything. Just don’t get too attached, okay?”

Yikes.

“Um, right. I think my manometer broke after the wedding,” I mumble.

“You’re not in a good headspace yet. That’s expected. Who would be after that gross engagement lasted for so long? You haven’t really had a chance to meet normal guys yet. Nice ones, I mean.”

Right.

I think I’m broken.

Archer Rory is anything but nice and that’s the whole reason he makes me tingle.

I let out a small wail, rolling over so my face gets buried in a pillow. “How does that help? What am I supposed to do?”

“Keep your space. Be nice to yourself. Be sensible. Slow down, smell the flowers, take some walks, adopt a puppy. There are good and bad ways to get over Holden, you know.”

“Oh my God, I’m on team puppy. But I was never into Holden,” I hiss. “I never loved him. You know that.”

“Sure, but you still left him and your old life behind. You’re not grieving the wedding or him. You’re mourning the old you.”

“Ugh.”

She’s too good at this.

“I know, being right all the time is hard work. You’ll buy me dinner to get me back when we hang out again.”

“Have I mentioned how much I hate your advice column?”

“All the time,” she says, a smile in her voice. I can’t help but smile back. “Look, it’s not as bad as you think it is. You’ve just had a lot going on. You’re emotionally vulnerable. So keep your guard up and put yourself first.”

I am.

And yet I also just let Archer waltz in and sweep me off my feet.

Maybe Lyssie is right.

Maybe this is a rebound with teeth and claws.

I wanted validation and affection since I never got any from Holden or Dad, so I picked the first gruff, gorgeous, unavailable older man who came along.

Sigmund Freud, eat your heart out.

“You gonna be okay?” she asks after a long silence. “You know I can come down there. It’s only a couple hours’ drive. Just say the word.”

Tempting.

But if she comes here and sees Archer and the way I feel about him—if she sees I’ve freaking moved in with him even if it wasn’t on a whim—she’ll probably haul me off to therapy the next morning.

“I’ll be okay,” I say. “Don’t worry about me, Lyss.”

“Nope, I’m gonna worry. But I also know that if anyone can look after themselves, it’s you. And you’ve still got your bees, right?”

“Yup. Thank God for one good thing.”

I press the phone tighter against my ear, imagining her here with me. Aside from the whole Archer situation, it would be amazing to pig out on tacos and watch K-dramas and just vibe with her.

“Miss you.”

“Miss you more. Keep the updates coming.”

“I will.” I end the call, tossing my phone aside.

The house seems oddly silent. I kick myself for imagining Archer coming to check up on me.

But why would he? After everything he said to his mom and the abrupt way I ran off the second we got home…

Oh, this is brutal.

Sighing out a long breath, I change into my pajamas, which are deliberately modest so Colt doesn’t suspect anything if I head downstairs for a snack later. I sit on the edge of the bed, marooned in my own thoughts.

Asshole or not, Archer Rory has good reasons to be closed off.

After all, he’s a single dad, and there are clearly big issues with his ex, even if he won’t talk to me about them.

I can’t stay mad, especially when I was eavesdropping on his private conversation.

Not deliberately at first, but when I realized they were talking about me, yes, I may have slowed down. I hung back around the corner for over a minute.

What girl wouldn’t want to know what her—what the guy she’s crushing on says about her?

It’s not his fault I didn’t like the answer.

And I haven’t even thought about that old-world Kansas City history the Rory family is just marinated in.

It should feel like I’m escaping one powerful aristocratic family just to fall into another, even if the Rorys don’t seem to touch politics.

Groaning, I drop my head in my hands.

Getting involved with a family like his should be at the bottom of my list.

New Winnie, she’s not interested in prestige and politics and names with big reputations.

But the thought doesn’t help.

Even hours later, when I’m yawning and hurting alone, his words still sting.

I don’t know if I can take Lyssie’s excellent advice.

I don’t know if I can ever learn to just turn off my heart and breathe.

I also don’t know I’ve fallen asleep until I feel hot lips on my temple and warm breath dancing down the side of my face.

I stir awake just as Archer scoops me into his lap.

He’s already hard, but his hands are gentle.

“What time is it?” I reach for my phone, but he captures my hand and kisses a finger.

Heat flashes through me.

“Almost eight.”

“What? In the morning?” My eyes flip open and I see the sun glaring through the blinds. “Shit. How did I sleep in so long?”

“Don’t know, but Colt’s out this morning for math class.” Archer kisses me again, his tongue sweeping into my mouth possessively. “I thought we’d make the most of it since you conked out early last night.”

Crap.

From what I remember, when I fell asleep—on top of the covers, apparently—I was still thinking about Archer.

I faded off with some half-assed thought that I should end this before we get more involved and more hearts get broken.

But now that he’s here with his mouth on my skin, I’m much less sure.

The damage he’s done hasn’t made him any less addictive.

I stretch languidly on the bed, relishing the feel of his huge body on mine. He’s here now, and maybe he won’t be in the future, but doesn’t that mean I should enjoy the moment more? Why shouldn’t I make the most of it?

Can’t a girl breathe by having a little fun?

If experience has taught me anything, Archer knows how to enjoy the now without a worry in his head.

Wet and bothered, I shift my weight so I can straddle him properly, wrapping my arms around his neck.

He’s perched on the edge of my bed.

We kiss again, deeply and chaotically.

His cock twitches against me.

“Okay,” I say with a small laugh. “I’m awake now.”

“Feeling better? Your stomach?”

“What?” I jerk back at the concern in his voice before I remember the excuse I gave him. “I’m fine. I just needed sleep.”

“You had it, brat. I missed you last night.” His hands find my butt and squeeze. “And I really fucking missed this.”

God.

He growls it so easily, but I guess to him it doesn’t mean anything special.

Maybe he even feels it in the moment—maybe he did miss waking up in the night to find my ass grinding against him.

The thought makes my throat tight, but I just smile.

“Well, it’s not getting any earlier. You better make up for it now.”

As his arms wrap around me, he stands, and I link my legs around his waist.

We stumble to his room like drunken teenagers, kissing and groping until I can’t breathe.

He definitely can’t see past my curls.

My back collides with the wall, and he tugs at my pajama top until it comes off.

“Much better,” he rasps, bending his head so he can suck my nipples.

My top lies on the floor, forgotten, and I rub myself against him, loving the way his breath comes fast and hard against my bare skin, pelting me with desire.

With Archer, it’s always so raw.

That’s what makes it so good.

It’s never a secret how much he wants me or how much I turn him on, and I’m pretty sure I could come just by looking at him.

When it’s over, I’m going to miss that. A lot.

But I’m not thinking about over now—the only thing that matters is the way he’s touching me, pushing my thoughts from my mind.

“Are you gonna fuck me right here?” I pant, running my hands through his hair.

“Why not?”

There’s no good reason, except I want to see Archer in bed, hands digging into my ass as I ride him.

After last night, I want a little control.

“Take me to bed first,” I whisper, running my lips along his throat.

He chuckles roughly and takes my nipple in his teeth.

I’m pretty sure my lady parts have been scattered to the seven winds by now.

“As she wishes,” he snarls. “My bed.”

So sexy.

So is the way he carries me into his room, one hand on my ass moving me up and down against his cock, rubbing me against him.

I’m pretty sure even through two whole layers, he can feel how wet I am.

By the time we reach the bed, I’m already close.

Totally ridiculous, because even though we’ve been sleeping together for a while, I’m still not used to the spell he casts on me.

It must be magic, simmering my blood and turning nerves I didn’t know I had into purring violin strings aching to be touched.

He tries to lay me down on the bed, but I keep my legs locked, and he tumbles down after me.

We both laugh, breathy and gasping.

For a second, I just absorb the magnificent feeling of him on top of me, his weight and heat and strength.

Yeah, this man couldn’t be disgusting if he tried.

The king-sized bed feels as huge as always, so I roll, pinning him under me as we strip away the rest of our clothes. His cock springs free and as I look up at him through my lashes, I take him in my mouth.

He groans.

I love that sound.

Just like I love it when his head rolls back, his jaw working like he’s trying desperately to keep himself under control.

That’s the hottest thing, when I make him go to pieces.

When I make him lose control.

I might not have him forever, but I can guarantee he won’t forget this.

When I sink down on him, he grasps my hips, his fingers digging into my skin greedily, wanting to move me, to control me, to break me.

“No,” I whisper, taking his hands and linking our fingers. “Hold tight.”

“Sugarbee.” He groans that nickname, his hands locked around me so tight it’s almost uncomfortable. “You feel so fucking good.”

“I know.” I rock my hips, doing everything I know he loves, bringing him to the edge.

I throw myself into it, riding him hard, the better to push him to the very brink and then pull back when he’s about to explode inside me.

No condom this time.

Holy shit.

I don’t know if he just forgot in the dizzying heat of the moment or if we’re that crazy to feel each other with nothing in the way.

But my pussy feels his veins, every glorious thrust, and it’s impossible to control my movements.

“Shit, you’re… you’re going to come inside me,” I grind out.

His eyes sharpen.

Not with surprise or denial.

With unbridled lust.

“You want that, woman? You want the man who fucks you this good to take every bit of you that’s left?” His breath hitches. “You want me to flood your little pussy?”

Oh, God.

I bite my lip so hard it hurts, so lost that all I can do is nod.

My own orgasm rolls in like a fast-moving storm, aching to feel us come together so bad.

Another moment.

Another delusion.

Another bittersweet memory, maybe.

But right now, I don’t care.

I’m that insane, writhing on his cock, if I’m still moving at all and it isn’t his hands flinging me up and down on his shaft.

Holy hell.

Yes, it’s temporary, this feeling of belonging, but I crave it desperately.

I crave him like oxygen.

But that’s a thought I shut away for another time as I lose myself in midnight-blue eyes.

“Winnie, goddamn!” Every muscle against me turns to granite, his skin slick with sweat.

“I’m close,” I tell him. My words are clipped but soft. “Archer, I’m going to come!”

“Fuck, fuck. Come on my cock, Winnie.” He holds my gaze like lightning splitting the sky.

I do, and he flexes under me as he gives in to his animal need, swelling deep inside me as I tighten around him.

He’s a human wave, a groaning storm, a tsunami slamming my body against him.

I feel his echo in my bones.

The way he twitches, the rattle in his chest, the way he rasps as he buries his cock to the hilt and unloads.

Coming!

Then there’s just white-hot ecstasy burning away my senses.

Every shattering moan and rough grunt as he erupts deep inside me feels like the darkest enlightenment.

Yes, I think I get it now.

If this is a beautiful delusion, don’t ever bring me home.

If this is how it has to end with Archer Rory, I’ll suffer for every second we have left.

His hands hold mine so tight I can’t feel my fingers when I open my eyes again.

It feels divine to just enjoy the afterglow.

Almost as good as the orgasm itself, this weird intimacy that still lingers between us when I roll off him and start cleaning up.

“Come here first,” he says, holding out his arm. Tucking into his embrace feels a little too normal, a little too easy. Like walking back into a familiar room or smelling the specific muted scent of his laundry.

I close my eyes, listening to the thud of his heart.

“When will Colt be home?”

“Not before noon at the earliest.”

“That’s a long math class.”

“It’s a whole college course crammed into a couple months. He’s meeting his mom for brunch, too.” He sighs against my head. “I said he could go.”

Dang.

This is opening him to so many questions, but I don’t dare ask.

Not like this.

Not now.

After the nightmare yesterday, it feels good to just be, with no big expectations or fears or anything.

I don’t want to ruin the moment with thoughts of Rina.

His phone buzzes beside him, though, and he frowns, reaching to look at it and accept the call.

“Hello?”

The voice buzzes on the other end of the line.

Then his face settles into hard edges and grim lines. I know whatever he’s hearing must be bad news. Nothing good ever makes someone’s face age in an instant.

“Okay, yes. We’ll be there,” he clips. Brisk, professional, emotionless.

He hangs up abruptly and I slide out of his arms.

“What is it?”

“That was my maintenance boss. He was called out to Solitude this morning by one of his crew,” Archer says slowly, holding my gaze. “He says there’s been some damage.”

“Damage? What kind?” My heart catapults and lands in my throat.

“He said we should see it for ourselves, Winnie. Let’s get cleaned up and go.”