Accidentally on Purpose

And stayed out this time.

In the far back recesses of her mind, she told herself to stop, that she was going to get hurt, but the part of her in control didn’t care. He needed her. And she sure as hell needed him. His fingers wrapped around hers and he gave a tug. She had to hand it to him, he knew her office as well as she did because in the next beat she was free-falling onto her small, narrow love seat, followed down by a hundred and eighty pounds of highly sexually motivated male.

The love seat, built for show rather than actual use, complained with a splintering crack and then collapsed beneath them.

They hit the floor. She saw a brief flash of Archer’s white teeth as he smiled his badass smile in the dark and then rolled, pinning her beneath him, her hands caught in his above her head.

“Your arm,” she gasped.

“Worth the pain.” His kiss was hot and deep and she almost lost herself in him.

Almost.

She fought the dregs of passion because no way was she going to be passive, not when for the first time in far too long she felt . . . alive, from the tips of her hair to her toes, which were already curling. Yanking her hands from his grasp, she placed them on his chest, unable to see much of anything but needing to touch, slowly sliding them up and around his neck, pulling him down to meet her lips. “More,” she demanded and skimmed a hand down his bare, sleek back and into his trousers. When she then slid that hand around to his front and brushed against a very hard erection threatening his zipper, he growled her name low in his throat, sounding gratifyingly breathless. He had his hands up the back of her dress, each palming a cheek, his fingers dipping in between, and when he discovered how wet he’d made her, he groaned.

She clutched at him, already halfway gone. “Archer—”

“I know. Christ, Elle. You feel amazing.”

“Now.” She didn’t even recognize her voice. “Right now.”

“My office.” His voice was rough gravel, like he could barely speak. “My couch is bigger and not in pieces on the floor.”

“No, here. Please . . .”

His low laugh was sexy as hell, damn him. He knew exactly what he did to her. “I do like the please,” he murmured. “More of that.”

“Archer, I swear to God if you don’t do me now, I’m going to hurt you.”

“Mmmm. Bossy too.” His mouth was busy at her breasts, her bra tugged open, his teeth and tongue driving her wild. “You’re a fantasy come true, Elle.” His voice was thick with erotic promise, his hands following through on that promise, his fingers especially taking her straight to heaven. “And we’re going to get there. But not with you on your back on this floor.”

“No?”

“No.”

She made an unintelligible sound of objection and he soothed her with a hot kiss before pulling back and tugging her up to her knees. Then he turned her away from him and slid his hand down her back, encouraging her to bend over the coffee table.

Before she could suggest that he bend over the table and they’d see if he liked it, his fingers were back in play between her thighs and she couldn’t remember why she’d wanted to object.

He draped himself over her in a protective shell, his chest plastered along her back, his legs encasing hers, one arm around her middle, palming a breast, the other between her legs, those fingers slowly but surely driving her right out of her ever loving mind. His mouth was just as busy, his teeth teasing the side of her throat, her jaw. “Good?” he murmured.

She nodded and then, to make sure he didn’t stop, gripped his wrist to hold his hand in place as lightning flashed through the window. She jerked but he wrapped himself around her. “I’ve got you,” he murmured.

And he did. He had her writhing against him as he urged her thighs open as far as they could get with her panties wrapped around them and his long, powerful legs on either side of hers, all while his fingers teased, cajoled, coaxed her into a hot mess, knowingly moving in an oscillating circle that seriously tugged every single thought right out of her head. She felt surrounded by him, completely surrounded in the very best possible way as his hot, wet mouth played over the nape of her neck and shoulders. Her head fell back, her breath coming in short, desperate little whimpers, her entire world shrunk to this, to the pleasure of his body and mouth and fingers . . . God, those fingers. “Archer—”

“You’re close,” he whispered hotly in her ear. “I can feel it.”

She opened her mouth to disagree because she didn’t come quickly. Ever. But apparently she did now. She burst, quivering in delicious orgasm and then, before she could process the shock of that, he’d managed to put on a condom and thrust inside her, and she came yet again. Or still . . .

“Fuck, Elle . . .” His fingers tightened on her hips as he filled her to capacity, reducing her to a puddle of goo. “You feel so good.”

She bit her tongue hard so she wouldn’t make any noise, but it was almost impossible to remain quiet with him so hot and silky hard inside of her. She could feel every single inch of him as he slid in and out, thrusting harder and deeper with each stroke, and it felt so incredible that she came again, oblivious to the storm around them or the fact that she was on her knees, bent over the table, begging for more.

He gave it to her, everything she wanted, and when she cried out his name, he groaned something back, something hot and erotically dirty, and he shuddered and finally let himself go.

From the dim recesses of her mind she remembered how she’d felt watching that couple go at each other in the elevator like the rest of the world didn’t exist, remembered thinking wistfully that she’d never experienced such a thing.

She could now check that box off.

For a long moment they stayed still in that instance in the dark, Archer pressed up against her, the two of them panting for air, muscles trembling, before he finally shifted.

And she thought, okay, that’s it. He’s going to stand, zip, and walk out the door.

But he didn’t, and in perhaps the sweetest thing he’d ever done, he lingered there with her in the dark, stormy night, still inside her, his mouth brushing lazily and warmly up and down the nape of her neck, his arms tight around her.

Cuddling.

He was cuddling her.

When his thumb brushed over her nipple, her entire body jerked, hungry for more, the greedy thing. A little bit unnerved by that, she elbowed him to give her space, and when he did, she staggered to her feet.