Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 94012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
My nipples stiffened as Archie turned me around to face the wall. I pressed my hands against the tile as he slowly massaged shampoo into my hair. It was ecstasy, especially the feeling of his cock brushing against my ass. The whole thing was erotic as hell.
Archie rinsed the soap out of my hair and turned me around to face him. I watched as he shampooed his own hair, noticing that his dick had grown hard again—or maybe it never went down.
I wanted so much more than he’d given me but had also chosen to let him take the reins. I didn’t want to push things or seem as desperate as I felt right now.
He turned off the water, slid open the shower curtain, and reached for a towel. He handed it to me then grabbed his own.
After we’d dried off, he cupped my cheek and brought my lips to his one more time. I savored the taste—it felt like forever since he’d kissed me, though it had only been minutes.
“Go get dressed,” he whispered over my lips.
Archie then disappeared into his room, leaving me standing in the bathroom, far from sated. I was dying for more.
If our shower was a sign of how slowly he planned to take things, I wasn’t sure I’d survive the torture.
CHAPTER 12
ARCHIE
PAST
IN THE FEW days since the hot-as-fuck shower I’d taken with Noelle, I’d done a 180 and not laid a hand on her. Things had felt more intense than I’d anticipated under the water that day, so I’d decided to step back. Noelle hadn’t brought it up, but I’d caught her staring at me a time or two, as if trying to figure out why I’d become so distant.
We were in her room working on my bumbling-idiot training again when she finally decided to ask.
“Why haven’t you touched me since the shower?”
I didn’t want to tell her the truth—that I couldn’t trust myself. “I didn’t realize there was a timeline on touching you,” I said, trying to seem nonchalant.
“Seriously, Archie?”
“Okay. Full disclosure.” I paused. “The shower? It was fucking amazing. That’s why I need to take a step back. I don’t want to lose you as a friend, and I feel like I will if I take things too far. Staying in control was harder than I anticipated. I have so few true friends, Noelle. And I consider you one of them.”
She crossed her arms and looked away from me. “You’re worried I’m gonna catch feelings.”
Actually, I’m more worried I’ll be the one to catch feelings at this point. But I went along with her version. “Yeah…” I lied.
Her mouth curved down. “Well, I’m not. I…haven’t. The shower didn’t change anything for me, if that’s what you’re worried about. I need you to not treat me like I’m fragile. But the bottom line is, if you don’t want to continue what we started, we shouldn’t.” She exhaled. “I’d just been looking forward to what came next.”
It killed me that she thought I didn’t want to go further with her. I felt myself weakening, too curious to stop. “What were you hoping came next?”
“I’m not gonna say it out loud.”
“Why not? I thought we could tell each other anything.”
“We can. But not when it comes to whatever this is.”
After a tense moment, I walked over to her desk and picked up one of those plastic Easter eggs that seemed to be all over the house now. I grabbed a blank sticky note and placed it inside before closing the egg.
I handed it to her, knowing this idea would pave me a path straight to hell. When I got there, I’d explain that I was serving time for corrupting the perfect daughter of my parents’ friends.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“Popping your cherry isn’t on the table right now. I want to make that clear. But if there’s anything else you want, write it down and put it in here. That way you don’t have to say it.”
Her eyes widened. “Now?”
“You don’t have to do it now. Whenever.”
She looked down at the egg. “Okay.” She tucked it away in her desk.
Miraculously, we were able to resume working on my speech after that. I got up and read from the notebook where I’d completed a rough draft detailing my father’s rise to the top. Archer Remington had started from humble beginnings in New Jersey, born the son of a shoe repairman. As the middle child of five, he felt unseen at times and always worked hard to excel—yada, yada, yada. I ended with a lie about what a great father he was and how he’d been a huge inspiration to me…of what not to do.
When I looked up at the end, Noelle smiled. “You did great.”
“You mean, I can read? That’s basically all I did—not really the same as giving a speech.”