“It’s okay, he’s a great swimmer,” Joe assured her. “One time I watched him dive off a thirty-foot embankment into the bay to save a jumper in a raging storm. He didn’t even blink an eye.”
In the river, which had to be freezing as it was winter for God’s sake, a dark head finally emerged. And then a body. Like an Adonis, Archer walked casually out of the water. On the shore, he ran his hands over the length of himself, sluicing off the water before bending to pick up his clothes and shoes. Then, still buck naked, he moved back to the fire and stood in front of it, letting it dry him.
“Truth,” Finn said to Pru.
Pru was staring at Archer, mouth open. “Huh?”
“Truth,” Finn repeated and then waved a hand in front of her face. “Hello? Woman, I said truth.”
“Sorry.” Pru grinned a little sheepishly. “I got distracted by the Greek god statue in front of the fire.”
“I thought I was your Greek god statue.”
“You totally are,” Pru said, still not taking her eyes off Archer as she patted Finn on the leg.
Kylie appeared to be having the same problem as Pru. Wow, she mouthed.
Archer began to pull on his clothes before taking a seat next to Elle on the log. He shook his head and water flew from his hair.
“Hey,” she said. “Not all of us are insane.” She glanced at him and realized he had to be freezing. “Here, let me give your jacket back—”
“I’m good.”
Well, fine. If he wanted to be stubborn, that worked for her because she wanted to be warm.
Pru was smiling at Finn. “I was hoping you’d say truth. So how did you get to be the poor sap who had to coax someone out here tonight? Why not Spence, Joe, or Archer?”
Finn smiled back. “None of them have a hottie to call.”
She laughed and Finn turned to Archer, sitting next to him. “Truth or dare?”
“Dare,” Archer said.
“Seriously?” Finn asked. “You don’t want to reevaluate and say truth to possibly spare yourself another dip?”
“Fine. Truth.”
Finn smiled, like gotcha. “What’s up with you and Elle?”
Elle sucked in a breath and did her best to look neutral. Switzerland.
Archer never took his eyes off Finn. “Nothing.”
“That’s not the truth,” Finn said.
But it was, Elle thought. There was nothing up with her and Archer.
And wasn’t that just her problem.
She wanted there to be. She had no idea why but she wanted it badly. Well, okay, so she did know. She suspected it was because he’d once been her hero, acting on her behalf for no other reason than he believed it the right thing to do. There’d been no ulterior motives, he hadn’t wanted a damn thing from her.
And that had been a shocking first for her. She’d never forgotten it. The only reason she even knew what it’d cost him was because she’d kept tabs on him the best she could. Which admittedly hadn’t been very well. She’d lost track of him years ago. Until she’d come to work in the Pacific Pier Building, that is.
“If you don’t think it’s the truth,” Archer said calmly to Finn. “Then give me a dare.”
Finn’s mouth curved. “Okay, I dare you to get Elle to say that there’s nothing going on between the two of you.”
Archer sighed. “We’ll need a moment to discuss.”
“No we won’t,” Elle said.
“Take as many moments as you need,” Finn said as if she hadn’t spoken, and he waggled his brow.
Archer pointed at Finn and made the motion of shooting a gun, but he gamely stood. The next thing Elle knew, he’d wrapped his big hand around one of hers and was dragging her away from the fire and into the woods.
“Hey,” she said, having to run to keep up with him. “My shoes—”
He slowed and without turning to her, reached back, hooked a hand around her thigh and hoisted her up so that he was carrying her piggy back.
It momentarily stunned her. Or, more accurately, the feel of his broad back to her chest stunned her. As did the feel of his arms now hooked around her legs. “Put me down!”
“The terrain’s uneven and God forbid but it’s dirty out here,” he said. “You really want to ruin your Guccis?”
“They’re Kate Spade.” And no, dammit, she didn’t want to ruin them. She blew out a sigh and dropped her forehead to his beefy shoulder.
But this wasn’t helpful as it put his neck within an inch or two of her mouth. He had a really great throat and damn if even after a day in the woods fishing and hiking and God knew what, he still smelled sexy as hell.
“Are you . . . sniffing me?” he asked.
She froze, her nose pressed to the back of his neck. “No.”
“Yes you are.” He sounded amused. “You just inhaled me like I was one of Tina’s muffins from the coffee shop—”
Later she would swear she had no idea what came over her, but she bit him. Not a hard bite, more like a nibble. With a lot of teeth.
“What the—” He stopped and let her slide down his body.
And at the shockingly intimate contact and slow glide of his parts against hers, she felt herself tremble.
He whipped around to face her before she could find her sea legs, his expression dark and unreadable. “What was that?” he demanded.
Planting her feet—or rather, her heels—she went hands on hips. That was the only way to deal with him, just like one would when faced with an animal in the wild. Make herself as big and tall as she could and refuse to back down.
But as for what had come over her, honestly, she had absolutely zero idea. Maybe temper that he could read her like a map. Definitely frustration because he wound her up so tight that she sometimes fantasized about him deep in the night. Or all the time. And the hardest one to admit—embarrassment that she felt this way at all. If he ever found out, he’d be horrified and she’d have to move to Siberia. “Oh, please,” she scoffed, trying to hide her shame. Her only regret was that she hadn’t bitten him harder. “Don’t even try to tell me I hurt you. You’re impenetrable. A rock.”
“You think I can’t be hurt?” he asked with a whisper of disbelief.
“I think you don’t let it show if you are.” She didn’t realize they were literally toe-to-toe and nose-to-nose until she drew a deep breath and felt her chest brush his.
“What would you know about my feelings, Elle?” he asked very, very quietly, his warm breath brushing her temple.
And just like that, a new kind of tension came over her, something else as well, something that skittered along every single nerve ending in her body.
Bad body.
“Nothing,” she said. “I know nothing of your feelings because you’re an island to me.”
“Yeah? Well, you’re Siberia.”
“What the hell does that mean?” she demanded. “Are you saying I’m cold?”
“Icy cold.”
Which was funny because she was so mad she was hot and she couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, so she crossed her arms tight over herself, closing off, which was of course proving his words. And only because maybe way deep down she did want to know his feelings, wanted to know them more than anything, wanted to know that she mattered to him, that she could reach him, that she could indeed hurt him, she poked him in a hard pec.
He wrapped his fingers around her wrist. “Stop.”
Yeah, that would have been the wise thing to do. Definitely. But she’d never been all that wise when it came to him so she used her free hand to tell him he was number one. With her middle finger. “How’s that for icy, you overgrown, knuckle-dragging oaf—”
Swearing beneath his breath, he caught that wrist too and stepped into her, making her not only shut the hell up but also stumble back a few steps, off balance. A tree came up against her back and Archer used that to his advantage, pinning her there with lots of solid muscle.
Her breath caught. At the sound he froze, his gaze going
heavy lidded as he stared at her mouth. Then he planted both hands flat on the huge tree on either side of her, framing her shoulders as he let out a long, careful exhale, resting his cheek against her hair. “You drive me crazy,” he murmured, his voice reverberating through his chest and into hers.
The words were such a contrast to his actions that it took her mind a moment to catch up. “Yeah, well, right back at you,” she managed, thrown off by the effortless way he was leaning into her, holding her there with his weight, completely immobilizing her.
And that wasn’t her biggest problem . . .
It was turning her on. “Move.”
He started to do just that and she would never in a million years be able to explain what she did next. She fisted her hands in his shirt, lifted her face, and . . . kissed him.
She felt his big body jerk in shock and tightened her grip, making a shockingly needy little whimper and he stilled. In the next beat he banded his arms around her and kissed her back. He kissed her slow and deep, taking his sweet-ass time about it too.
Tendrils of undeniable pleasure coursed through her, melting her bones away. She was still angry. So angry. And yet she couldn’t even remember why. That, coupled with her own sexual frustration and need, God, so much need, she literally went blank. Well, her brain did.
Not her body.
Her body reacted like it’d been deprived of touch for years, which was actually true. She moved against him, writhed really, trying desperately to get even closer, winding her arms around his neck to pull him into a better position to keep kissing him. When their tongues touched, they generated so much heat she nearly went up in flames and she tried to climb his body like he was a jungle gym.
This wrenched a groan from deep in his throat.
Sexiest sound ever.
Suddenly they were pulling at each other, grappling to get even closer, their hands furiously trying to gain purchase. She couldn’t get enough of him, his heat, the undeniable strength in every inch of his body. They were standing in a place not too far from the fire where anyone could come upon them and she didn’t even care.
When they were finally forced apart by their need for air, they stared at each other for a long beat. Elle would have liked to have the last word by casually pushing off and walking away, but she couldn’t. As in she literally couldn’t because the bones in her legs had gone on vacation, leaving her clinging to him. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” she said shakily. “I just can’t find my feet.”
Archer let out a low laughing groan into her neck and the movement of his mouth on her heated flesh had her toes curling. Since her hands were still in his hair she merely fisted them and tugged, and then they were kissing again.
Or still.
It was crazy, insanity really, but it was as if she’d die if she didn’t get her hands on him. Apparently he felt the same way because while she worked her fingers beneath his shirt and all over his chest and abs—and good God, those abs—he wrenched his jacket from her shoulders got his hands on her breasts, like touching her was more critical than the blood in his veins.
She’d have thought his skin would be chilled from his dip in the river but he was hot to the touch. He felt amazing and she actually got to the button fly on his Levi’s before he wrenched free and took a step back from her.
Good thing the tree was still at her back or she’d have slid bonelessly to the dirt.
Not looking all that steady himself, Archer shoved a hand into his hair and fisted his fingers in the silky strands, like maybe he’d gone crazy.
She certainly had. She was . . . stunned. Shocked. And wildly out of breath. She put a hand to her racing heart to see if she could keep the organ in her chest since it was throwing itself against her ribcage with every single heartbeat. “Next time,” she said unsteadily. “We do that without a potential audience.”
He just looked at her and then her heart stopped beating like a drum. It stopped beating period. Because she understood what his look said—there wasn’t going to be a next time. “Okay, scratch that.”
“Elle—”
“No. Never mind.”
“We’re . . . friends,” he said. “I’ve known you since you were a kid.”
Oh hell to the no did she want to hear the rest of that speech. Because yes, maybe she had a secret thing for him, and yes, maybe she’d fallen a long time ago, but she’d hoped he’d be able to see her for the woman she was now. A damn successful, strong woman.
But clearly that wasn’t going to happen. Nothing was ever going to happen and she couldn’t stick it out anymore, hoping, waiting. That was just sad and desperate, and she was neither. She had given it a whole year, and what was she waiting around for anyway? Archer didn’t represent any of the things she wanted, certainly not safety or security.
Or love.
Because that’s what she really wanted. She knew that now.
And maybe he did love her in his own way. As a friend. As someone he’d once protected and always would. She got that, she really did, but it was time to take the reins on this. She started with straightening her blouse—when had he gotten her unbuttoned?—and carefully looked around her rather than meet his gaze, not sure what she would see. Or what she wanted to see. It’d be nice if he felt even a fraction of the crazy discombobulation she felt, but she had a feeling she’d see regret and that was going to make her even madder. Still, she risked a peek and found his default expression—the blank one that told her nothing.
Nor did he speak. The man, damn him, was as obstinate as . . . well, herself. He could outwait Job.
She, unfortunately, could not. She’d never been able to wait for anything, not a cup of tea to brew, not for slow Internet, and certainly not for Archer to speak. So she went on the offensive. “Listen, we’re going to attribute that to . . .” She searched for a logical reason to explain why she’d nearly jumped his bones but logic had deserted her. “High altitude,” she said. Yeah, that was it. “The high altitude makes it hard to think.”
He was a dark outline in the night, not touching her but still standing close. “We’re not at any significant altitude here.”
Seriously? He couldn’t even give her that? She went on the defensive. “Look, I get that I kissed you, but you know what? You kissed me back, with tongue. In fact, you got to second base, Mr. Cool. So feel free to help me out here and come up with something better.”
When he didn’t say anything, she started to retreat again and nearly fell on her ass when her heels sank into the soft ground. She didn’t even care. “I’m going back to the fire before anyone gets the wrong idea,” she said stiffly. “I’m going to tell them that there is absolutely nothing happening between us. Less than nothing—”
“It’s you,” he said.
“What’s me?”
“My deepest, darkest regret. It’s you.”
Wait . . . what?
But on that stunning statement, he walked away first, heading back to the fire. She blinked and hesitated, but only for a minute before she hurried to keep up with him because although she might want to kill his sexy ass—which she wasn’t even going to notice, not ever again!—it didn’t mean she had any intention of being left behind as potential bear bait, thank you very much.
Chapter 7
#CalgonTakeMeAway
The girls didn’t stay overnight. They took a vote and Pru was the only one who wanted to. Kylie and Elle had way more sense.
“I need my pillow,” Kylie said when the three of them had huddled beneath a tree to confer.
“I need to not be on a mountain,” Elle said, but what she really meant was that she needed to be at least a hundred miles from Archer right now.
“I know, I get it.” Pru sighed. “I really do. Just give me a minute to say goodbye to Finn first.”
Kylie watched Pru go and pull Finn aside. “She’s going to need more than a minute.”
“Yeah,” Elle said but her mind wasn’t on Pru and Finn. She was