Secret Sins (24 page)

Anna couldn’t hold back her muted cry of sensual surrender as she felt the head of
his cock press against the clenched entrance of her pussy. Her juices spilled from
her inner flesh, slickening it, easing his way before gathering in the swollen folds
and torturing the swollen bud of her clit.

“Archer.” Her fingers dug into the blankets beneath her as his hips pressed and rolled,
impaling her flesh. The rubbing, stroking motion of the head of his cock stimulated
naked, excited nerve endings to a fever pitch of pleasure as he came over her.

Bracing his weight on one powerful arm, his hand planted on the mattress next to hers,
Anna felt Archer’s heated breaths next to her ear.

“Damn, I already love fucking you,” he groaned. “Feeling your tight little pussy all
wet and hot, clenched around my dick, has to be the most exciting pleasure I’ve ever
known.”

His voice was strained, tight, and filled with the audible proof of that pleasure
as he slowly worked his cock inside her. Moving in and out, burying it to the hilt
before pulling back and surging inside once again.

Thick and iron-hard, his erection caressed pinpoints so violently sensitive that her
orgasm was only a breath away. She could feel the need for it burning through her,
her hunger for it building with every second.

“Does it feel good, baby?” he groaned at her ear as his powerful hips began moving
stronger, harder. Each stroke sent a burst of fiery pleasure radiating through her.
She felt locked in a sensual swirl of such brilliant sensation that nothing mattered
but pleasure and the drive to orgasm.

“Tell me you’re not leaving,” he demanded, his voice hoarse, his own pleasure building.

Anna was so lost in the ecstasy racing through her that she couldn’t fight, she couldn’t
deny him, no matter what he wanted.

“Promise me, Anna.”

“Please don’t—”

“Promise me.” He surged inside her hard, his cock stretching her, burning her with
pleasure. “Promise you won’t leave, Anna.”

“I won’t leave,” she cried out, knowing even as she said it, she lied. “I won’t leave,
Archer. Please—”

Pulling back, his hard body tight, powerful as his hands gripped her hips, holding
her steady as he let loose the hunger tearing through both of them.

Control was a thing of the past. Anna couldn’t help but lose herself in his touch,
and if he hadn’t lost himself in her touch, then he was doing a damned good impression
of it.

With each hard, heavy stroke he pushed her higher, sent the fires burning hotter,
harder. Anna cried out his name, begged, fought for release until it took her with
a strength and overwhelming rapture she was afraid marked her soul.

Behind her, Archer fucked her through her release, thrusting and surging inside her
until at the last second he pulled free of her. The feel of his seed spilling onto
her rear, his groan, then the feel of his body coming down beside her as he pulled
her against him had her sighing in aching regret.

She had lied to him, and she knew it. Anna had never made a promise that she hadn’t
kept. She was careful with her promises, stingy with them her grandfather often said.
But Archer had used her pleasure against her. He had forced that promise from her,
and a forced promise didn’t count.

Did it?

CHAPTER 14

She should leave.

And how very ironic that was considering she’d dreamed of sharing Archer’s bed and
his life for so many years.

Anna told herself countless times over the next five days that leaving was the best
thing she could do. While she was at work dealing with Crowe’s snide remarks. Each
evening when Archer arrived home and watched her with that suddenly cool stare of
his.

Each night when they went to bed, silently, and he rolled over and went to sleep,
it was the last thing she told herself as she finally drifted off, often hours later.

But each morning she awoke in his arms, never certain how she found herself there.
His arms would be wrapped around her, his face buried in her hair, and then he would
act as though it had never happened, get up, shower and go to work.

That Friday, as she left the office, then paused at the entrance of the tavern, waiting
on Rory, she was still debating what she should do, what she shouldn’t do.

He wasn’t having her move to the guest room. Each time she had mentioned it after
the first attempt, the look he gave her had her tightening her lips and quickly moving
away from him.

She was not going to let it be said she made the first move to fix whatever the hell
was going on between them.

“Rory has to work late.” It was Archer who stepped from the bar, rather than Rory.
“He’ll see you in the morning.”

Anna was surprised to see Archer; she stared back at him in surprise as he paused
in front of her.

“I’m sure I could have walked back alone,” she assured him. “You didn’t have to take
off work.”

“I didn’t,” he growled.

Tucking her hands into the shallow pockets of the gray pencil skirt she wore that
day, she considered debating her Archer problem again, now that he was reminding her
why she was still debating it.

“How did you manage to get off early, then?” she asked as he shortened his stride
to match hers.

“Schedule was made out last month,” he answered, his voice short. “I should be off
until Monday unless something happens.”

“Unless the Slasher comes out again,” she guessed.

“Or Caine needs help.” He shrugged. “This isn’t exactly a nine-to-five job.”

Anna nodded. He didn’t seem much in the mood to talk, so she wasn’t going to push
it. It would have been better, though, if the silences between them didn’t feel so
comfortable, despite the fact that she was mad enough to scream at him.

“How the hell do you walk in those shoes?” he asked as they passed a narrow alley
entryway and moved along Main Street, crossing in front of the stone courthouse as
she glanced down at the light pink four-inch heels that matched the light sleeveless
blouse she wore beneath a gray sweater.

“Practice.” Glancing up at him again, she nearly stumbled at the look of pure lust
that flashed on his face. Just as quickly, it was gone. And Anna couldn’t help herself
but push. “I started wearing heels when I was twelve.”

Surprise glittered in his eyes for a moment. “Isn’t that kind of young?”

She shrugged.

“Not in California,” she assured him, remembering Jaci Fielding and how she had taught
Anna to wear the shoes. “All the girls wore heels at Tennenbaum’s Establishment of
Higher Education.” She almost snickered at the name. “It was very exclusive. Every
girl there but me, I believe, had been arrested at least once, done drugs at least
once, and everyone I talked to claimed to have had sex. At least once.”

“At twelve?” He glanced at her in disbelief.

Anna sobered, frowning at the memory of the girls who were much older than their ages.
“They were all very worldly. I had my first drink there, on my first night in the
dorm. I had my first hit of pot there.”

“At twelve?” he repeated, more than shocked now.

“I didn’t inhale,” she promised with false sincerity.

“Hell, and here I thought I was wild as a kid.” He could only shake his head at her.
“How did you handle it, Anna?” He breathed out roughly.

For a moment, the distance that had grown between them for the past days had disappeared.

“I cried every night I was there,” she sighed, feeling his hand settle lightly at
the small of her back as they walked. “I would call my parents for weeks on end and
beg them to let me come home. I was always begging to come home and they were always
refusing.”

“Until you stopped,” he guessed, his voice quiet then.

Anna nodded. “Until I stopped. It was my fourteenth birthday. I’d spent every birthday
alone since I turned ten. They forgot to call that night.…”

“Damn,” he muttered. “I never knew Robert to be so fucking cruel.”

“Oh, he wasn’t cruel, and you know it,” she assured him. “Just forgetful sometimes.
And I hadn’t been home on my birthday since I was nine. It was the first time they
forgot.”

“But it wasn’t the last, was it?”

Crossing Second Street, they passed a café and took the shortcut through a narrow
alleyway to Third and Corbin Streets.

“No, it wasn’t the last time,” she agreed. “A few days before, a few days after. A
couple of times, it was like three weeks before my birthday.”

His fingers rubbed at the small of her back consolingly.

“I’m sorry.”

Anna shook her head, a mirthless grin tilting her lips. “I’ve been thinking about
it a lot the last few days. I told Amelia I didn’t make friends, but I did. A few.
Not the kind of friends you exchange cards and stuff with, but if I called, I think
they would talk to me.”

“I have no doubt they would, Anna,” he sighed. “But you were meant to have friends.
You’re too open and generous. I have no doubt you have more friends than you know.”

“Well, little Callie Brock next door seems to like me okay,” she admitted with a grin.
“But I think she just wants an invite to the patio. Everyone is way too curious about
that hidden patio, Archer.”

She glanced up at him in time to catch his smirk.

“Dad always thought it was funny as hell. The woods border the back of the house,
the street on the side of the patio. It kills everyone that they can’t see in there.”

They paused at the corner across from his home.

It was beautiful. Red brick, two stories, with a four-foot privacy fence around the
front yard, an eight-foot fence around the small backyard, and the patio at the back
corner on the street side. A heavy rock wall about six feet from the sidewalk was
overgrown with ivy and wisteria in bloom. The heavy purple blooms sent a light fragrance
through the air of the patio, while trailing clematis, pink and white roses, and lilac
bushes and lavender plants sent a sultry scent through the air where they hid the
rock wall.

Many of the homes were bordered by stone or tall wood privacy fences in Sweetrock.
The people in the small town seemed to love their privacy, even as they loved living
within the city limits.

“Ready?” There was a hint of amusement in his tone as he urged her across the street.

Anna stepped from the curb, following his lead as they moved across the all-but-deserted
street.

It was still early in the day. Most of the small homes were empty, with only a few
older couples sitting on their porches to enjoy the cool, late summer day.

Peace seemed to fill the air until it was suddenly shattered by the scream of tires
and the sound of a vehicle gathering speed.

“Fuck!”

Archer’s curse split the air before Anna found herself picked from her feet as he
raced the last few feet across the street, only inches from a wicked black pickup
that had shot from its parked position. And that wasn’t bad enough. As it shot past
them, the sound of gunfire splitting the once peaceful setting assured Anna the driver
wasn’t playing around.

Archer dove for the ground, covering her body with his as more shots rang out, the
pelting bullets hitting the vehicle he dragged her behind, tearing through her senses
as she felt the fiery wash of pain at her thigh.

She’d been hit.

It was a distant realization as she heard Archer shouting something into the radio
he kept clipped at his shoulder or at his belt whenever he left the house.

He was shouting orders, giving a plate number, and screaming at someone to get the
fuck to the house. Even as he was screaming, the second the truck rounded a curve
that would have put them in sight of the shooter again, he was moving.

More gunfire rang out, everything happening so fast, yet in such slow motion that
Anna found herself unable to process everything going on.

Lifted against him again, as the pain that tore through her thigh nearly stole her
consciousness, she found herself rushed along the side of the house and through the
gate of the fence. A second later she was all but tossed into the house as Archer
slammed the door behind them.

“Stay put!” he ordered as she collapsed on the kitchen floor. “I have to check the
house.”

A gun was shoved into her hand and Archer’s face suddenly filled her vision. “If anyone
comes through that door, you shoot first and I’ll ask the questions later. And by
God, you shoot to kill.”

In the next heartbeat he was racing through the house.

The sound of doors slamming was only a distant awareness of his progress through the
house. As she sat on the cool tile of the floor, Oscar slinked from where he hid,
moved to her side, and butted his head against her arm for attention.

Glancing down at him, she followed his gaze to the sight of the red stain slowly spreading
along the creamy stone floor.

It was her blood.

Her skirt was torn at the side. Shock was obviously keeping her from screaming in
agony, she thought.

“All clear!” Archer was yelling as he moved for the kitchen once again.

Anna watched the cat.

Delicately, as though not entirely certain of the slowly, slowly spreading stain,
he reached out one huge paw and batted at the thick dampness as Archer suddenly came
to a stop, no more than a few feet from her.

He felt poleaxed. Almost unable to function.

“Ambulance,” he snapped into the radio at his shoulder. “Now, Caine. Now, goddamm
it, get an ambulance here now—Anna—”

She lifted her gaze as he suddenly knelt at her side, pushing the cat away. There
was a handful of towels or clothes in his hands.

Where had they come from?
she wondered.

Archer could feel the breath suspending in his lungs, the effort to breathe hard as
he stared at the blood-soaked material of her skirt.

Ah God, her thigh was so delicate and small, and there was so much blood.

The sound of sirens blaring barely registered in his head.