Chapter 22

W hile Archer filled the tub, I showered off first to clean myself. Archer lined candles around the room, and we bathed together. I had never experienced anything so romantic.

We sat on opposite sides and talked about unimportant things, like the weather in Oregon and my favorite movies. Archer missed the ocean and described the feeling of standing on the beach with the Pacific waters lapping at the shore. He washed my feet while I tested out if he was ticklish. I told him I'd never seen the ocean before, and he promised to take me there someday. He also detailed their journey to becoming a pack and the tribulations and triumphs they'd faced in previous months.

I had never felt so transparent with anyone, and yet in my heart, it seemed too good to be true.

When the power returned, we didn't bother turning on the lights. Archer eventually left the bathroom, and I combed my towel-dried hair and put it in a ponytail.

Once finished, I stared at my flushed reflection, reminiscing over our steamy evening.

A reproachful voice interrupted my thoughts. What is wrong with you? Crying while you're having sex? He probably thinks you're a lunatic. And he never even got to bend you over the couch. Wolves like it that way, remember? On top of that, you rode him like a horse. Great. Next time he might buy you a saddle. If there is a next time.

After applying lotion to my feet and legs, I slipped on the blue T-shirt Melody had given me. A thought occurred as I observed the silence: Archer had left—just like I had the first time we met.

Once the candles were snuffed out, I opened the door and gaped at the bed. The warm glow from the bedside lamp painted a picture of Archer lying on the sheets like a cover model on a romance novel. On his back, his right arm tucked behind his head and left leg bent, he gave me an unapologetic smile as the only thing that covered him was a pie plate on his chest.

I put my hand over my mouth and giggled at the sight.

He arched an eyebrow. "Hungry?"

"I thought you left," I said while climbing onto the bed and lying on my side.

With pillows propping his head up, he looked down at the pie and picked up the fork. "Hope you don't mind I stole a bite. Here," he said, handing me the utensil. "I can't feed you like this. It's too awkward. Unless you want to switch sides."

I scooped up a wedge of apple. "Then I'll feed you." After giving him a bite, I scooped one for myself. "Isn't it divine? Mercy's a lucky woman."

He wiped a crumb from his mouth. "Yeah."

While chewing, I gave Archer the next bite. Pie had never tasted so good. Thunder rumbled outside like a slow-moving train as raindrops tapped against the skylight above.

After several more mouthfuls, I said, "I should probably stop."

"Why?"

"Because. I can't just eat a whole pie. It's greedy. "

Archer's chest rose and fell with a deep sigh. "I could kill that bastard." Then he squeezed my leg. "You're not greedy. Bear made you the pie, so if you want to eat the whole thing in one night, do it. If you think I care, you have no idea what I can do to a pan of cinnamon rolls."

The image delighted me, and I smiled. "Really? Cinnamon rolls?"

"It's my weakness."

"Is that what you crave when you come out of a shift?"

"No." Archer chewed another bite I fed him and then answered, "My craving is milk."

"Be right back." I hopped off the bed and padded across the dark living room. Inside the drink cooler, there were two glass bottles of milk. Grabbing one, I returned to the room and flourished it. "Voilà!"

He set the pie next to him and scooted to a sitting position. "I could have used that earlier." Placing the bottle between his knees, he unscrewed the top and guzzled the entire thing in one go.

When he finished, I took the pie and empty bottle into the kitchen.

"I bet you can't guess what Bear's craving is," he called out.

I pitched the bottle into the trash. "Something gourmet?"

He laughed. "No. It's Tootsie Rolls. The man can outcook any professional chef, and all he craves after a shift are Tootsie Rolls."

When I returned to the room, Archer shook his head.

"Take that off."

I glanced down. "Why?"

He strode into the living room and returned with his white T-shirt. "Because I don't want you snuggling next to me in another man's shirt. It smells like Lakota."

"It does not," I said with an amused chuckle.

"So what'll it be? Naked… or white tee?" He lifted up the T-sh irt and playfully repeated, "Naked… or white tee? I don't know about you, but I'm leaning toward the first option."

I stripped off Lakota's shirt, and when he realized I wasn't wearing panties, he drew in a sharp breath. "It's too bad I don't have that short Girl Power shirt. Would you object?"

Archer gripped his white T-shirt a little too hard when I tried to pull it from his hand. "I'd have no problem with that one."

After slipping on the shirt, I crawled across the bed, eliciting a growl from behind me.

With the power back on, the air had chilled a few degrees, so I slipped beneath the thin blanket.

"I guess you want to leave before it gets too late," I said, wishing this night didn't have to end.

Archer crawled in bed behind me and tucked himself close. "Is that what you want?"

"No, but?—"

"Then I'm not going anywhere. Not for a while. How about we lie like this until you fall asleep? I'll slip out and have Catcher sit by your door."

"But then the door won't be locked."

"Catcher's a badass. Nobody's getting past him. Hell, nobody's getting past Lucian's funny farm of night-vision cameras."

I stared at the bookshelf, my left hand tucked beneath the pillow. Archer lightly kissed my shoulder several times, his arm secured around my middle.

"I like that you have a clean shave," I said offhandedly. "It doesn't scratch me. And you're not rough."

His arm squeezed just a little tighter. "Are you okay?"

"I'm better than okay."

Archer kissed the crook of my neck. "That was hotter than the first time."

Nonplussed by his remark, I turned onto my back to look at him. "What? I was in heat when we met. It's never better than that."

"Not true. I guess it wasn't for you, then."

"No, it definitely was. But…" I shook my head.

For men, the sensation of being with a woman in heat was irresistible. Our scent became a powerful aphrodisiac. And penetration was hot, drawing them into the act.

"You don't have to say things just to be nice."

He ran his fingers through his blond hair, the brown roots more visible when he raked it back. "I was sober this time, and you were yourself. I don't know, but that meant something." Archer played with one of the charms on my bracelet. "I'm not like him. The first time we met, I gave a shitty impression. Our pack works hard around here, and sometimes, we go out and blow off steam. It was just one of those nights when I'd had a few too many, but alcohol isn't my weakness."

I searched his eyes. "Then what is your weakness?"

"You. You're my weakness. I like being with you." Archer tugged on one of the charms. "Do these mean anything? I've been trying to decipher the importance of a bicycle."

I lifted my left arm. "My father started this on my tenth birthday when I decided I was old enough to wear jewelry. The chain was too big, so I put a safety pin through the links until I grew into it. The bicycle was the first one because he taught me how to ride a bike that year. Each birthday, he would pick a charm that reminded me of an event that occurred that same year."

"The owl?"

"We had an owl living in the attic, and the hooting was driving him crazy. So I walked around hooting all the time."

He moved the charms around and chuckled. "A pot holder?"

"I was obsessed with baking when I was fourteen. We had more cookies that year than we could eat, so I would put them in these pretty boxes and leave them on the park benches where the homeless slept."

He laced his fingers in mine.

"I was too shy to approach them. It probably would have been more polite."

"You were only fourteen. I'm glad you didn't. You have a good heart, Cici, but you have to be careful."

A memory unlocked and made me smile. "That's what my father used to say."

"I wish I could have met him. He sounds like a hell of a guy."

I turned on my side and nuzzled closer. "Is what we did okay?"

He stroked my back. "There's no right or wrong in the bedroom. There's only consent."

"I like the way we talk."

"Me too, but I can't just say anything."

"Why not?"

He caressed my arm. "Because whenever you try new things, it's best to go slow. Too much is overkill, and you need to figure out where your boundaries are. We were strangers the first time and rushed into it blindly. I might have called you those names you don't like, and I'm sorry if I did." He rested his hand on my hip. "Wolves are assertive. Most women have no trouble saying what they want. Maybe that's not your animal's nature, but never be afraid to tell a man to stop what he's saying or doing if it feels wrong."

I glanced up. "It's never felt wrong with you."

His lips twitched. "That's because I pay attention. I don't ignore a woman's reaction."

"I guess that's why you're such a good lover."

"What you asked me earlier about punishing you—I don't want to do that with you in the bedroom. Ever. Even playing around. "

Drawing in his scent, I said, "You make me feel like I'm the most beautiful woman in the world."

He pressed a soft kiss to my neck. "That's because you are."

I traced invisible circles on his chest. "You make me feel safe, and that scares me."

He eased back and studied my expression. "Why?"

Is this too much emotion to dump on him all at once? Maybe he just wants to bask in his afterglow and slip out in the night, and here you come with your truckload of emotions.

Shut up, brain.

"Tell me," he insisted.

"Because I trusted Noah once. Now I don't know if I can trust my own instincts."

Archer kissed my forehead. "A man needs to earn your trust. If he ever breaks it, walk away and never look back."

I stared at his mouth, wondering how he felt about me. Wondering if this meant anything more than a physical connection. Wondering if I was crazy for snuggling next to a wolf, albeit a handsome wolf.

When he reached down to adjust the sheet, I admired the flex of his biceps and pecs. I debated whether it was appropriate to ask him about his amputation, given his sensitivity on the matter.

"Archer, can I ask you something personal?"

He slipped his arm beneath the sheets and flattened his hand on my thigh. "Maybe."

The thump of his heart tapped against my palm. "What happened to your arm?"

He stroked my hip in circular motions, stirring something within me. "Another time," he replied, his voice deepening an octave. "Let's not spoil tonight." Archer buried his face in my neck and peppered it with sweet kisses, making me squirm with delight. "So, what's your craving? Say it's cookies. Then I'll know it's destiny. "

"I'm sorry to disappoint, but it's pears."

"Mmm." He slowly kissed my shoulder.

"Do you want to make love again?"

"I want to do a lot of things." He reached across the bed, rolling his naked body on top of mine, and switched out the lamp. "Let me hold you for a while."

After a tender kiss on the mouth, he settled beside me.

I relaxed in his embrace. " Then you can bend me over the couch."

"Stop that."

Lightning flashed overhead, briefly illuminating the room like a strobe light.

Rolling away from him, I nestled my bottom against his groin and sighed. "Good night, Archer." I wiggled my hips one last time for good measure.

Thunder rumbled, this time traveling a long distance before ending with a solid boom that made me jump.

Archer pulled my hair out of the ponytail while kissing the back of my neck. "Cici?"

"Mm-hmm?"

"Lift up your shirt."