Accidentally on Purpose Read online

  She’d just finished when Archer strode in. He tossed his keys to the counter and headed straight toward her, his nostrils flaring. “What’s that smell?”

  She panicked. She’d lit the two candles she’d been able to find and she’d shut the patio door, but not before standing there like an idiot in the living room waving a magazine around, trying to get the burnt smell outside. “Um . . .”

  “Italian,” he said with a smile, staring down at the table. “I thought so. Chicken Parmesan? Looks amazing.”

  She took a breath and smiled with relief.

  “I had no idea you could cook,” he said.

  “Oh well, I—” She gasped when he curled an arm around her waist and tugged her into him.

  He gave her a smacking kiss on the lips and then pulled back, cocking his head as he studied her.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Like the look.”

  Pulling free, she turned to eyeball her reflection in his stainless-steel refrigerator and barely repressed a shocked shriek. Her hair had rioted and there were streaks of what looked suspiciously like charcoal across her jaw and cheek and forehead.

  Archer came up behind her, leaving not even air between them, his hands on her hips, his jaw pressed to hers. He had to bend to do it too because she’d left her shoes on the patio.

  Along with her brain, apparently.

  “Barefoot in my kitchen,” he murmured, his hot mouth against her ear.

  And maybe pregnant . . . She thought of the test kit she had in her purse. One of these days she was going to take it. Soon. “Don’t get used to it,” she managed.

  “What, you being barefoot?”

  “Me being a mess.”

  He turned her to him and cupped her face, suddenly serious. “I’ve wanted in under your armor for a long time, Elle. Don’t deny me now.”

  This just about undid her. It certainly left her speechless.

  He smiled again, looking pleased with himself. “Can we eat now? I’m starving and your food looks amazing.”

  She watched as he moved away from her to sprawl into a chair and dig in. Guilt consumed her. “So about the food—”

  “Hang on a second,” he said around a huge bite, leaning back, his eyes closed. “I’m having a moment.”

  “But—”

  “I skipped lunch,” he said. “And this is almost as good as an orgasm. Only almost because let’s face it, nothing’s as good as an orgasm.”

  “I didn’t cook it,” she blurted out.

  He flashed her a smile. “I know.”

  She stared at him. “You knew the whole time?”

  “Well yeah.” He was slathering a thick hunk of Italian bread with enough butter for a heart attack with one hand, spooning more chicken Parm onto his plate with his other. She had no idea how he ate the way he did and stayed so leanly muscled.

  Bastard. “How?” she demanded. “How did you know?”

  He slid her an amused glance. “My barbeque’s still smoking and smells like you torched it in a bonfire. You’ve got soot on your face and on your feet. The trash isn’t shut all the way and even from here I can see a take-out container near the top.”

  “Do you have to be so observant?” she demanded.

  “How else would I be able to keep up with you?” An arm snaked out and he yanked her onto his lap, where he buried his face in her hair. “You cared enough to want me fed. That turns me on about as much as you barefoot in my kitchen. Barefoot and—”

  She put a finger over his lips. “Don’t say it.” She didn’t want to hear the word pregnant on his lips. Behind her hand, he was smiling. “You’re a very odd man,” she said.

  “Have you taken a pregnancy test?” he asked around her finger.

  “Not yet.”

  “Take the test, Elle. We need to know.”

  But it would change his actions, she thought with a catch in her gut. He’d stay with her out of even more obligation to her and—

  “Stop.” He lifted her face to his as he read her thoughts, making sure she knew his. “Whatever we find out,” he said, “I’m here for you. Whether it’s just you, or you and our baby. Always. But it’s a fact that you’re getting the raw end of the deal.”

  She shook her head. “Not true.”

  He nipped the finger she still held to his mouth.

  “Very odd man,” she repeated softly.

  Not insulted in the least, he smiled and pulled her hand away from his mouth and then took that mouth on a leisurely tour up her throat, letting it make its way along her jaw to her ear.

  “Here, Archer?” she asked breathlessly, tilting her head to give him better access as she eyeballed the table.

  “Not the table. I’ve been dreaming about all the things I want to do to you and I don’t want to be interrupted.”

  “There’s more . . . things?” she asked a little breathlessly.

  “Oh yeah.”

  While she quivered at the thought of that, he rose and carried her to his bedroom, where he kicked the door closed, hit the lock, and dumped her onto his bed.

  Elle expected Archer to quickly strip her out of her clothes but instead he made himself at home between her thighs and nudged her face to his. “I want in your life, Elle. All the way in.”

  “Well if I’m not mistaken . . .” She rocked against an impressive erection. “You’re about to get as far in me as you can.”

  But he wasn’t playing. “You know what I mean. I’m trying to give you the time you need but I need a hint on how this is going.”

  “The fact that I’m halfway to orgasmic bliss in your bed should be a pretty big hint,” she said.

  He smiled. “So you’re halfway to orgasmic bliss already, huh? Damn, I’m good.”

  She kissed his jaw and nuzzled his throat. “You are.” She pulled back and cupped his face. “You’re going to be able to stop manipulating me?”

  He sighed. “I manipulate everyone.”

  “Yes, but I’m not everyone.”

  Their gazes locked and held. The silence stretched and finally he spoke. “Stay with me.” It was worded like a command but he said it softly. Probably as close to asking as he would come, she thought, her heart pounding hard. God. Was she really going to do this, give him the power she’d never really given anyone by falling for him? “How about if we go one night at a time?”

  “Works for me,” Archer murmured. And closing the distance between their mouths, he kissed her.

  Chapter 23

  #GoingGoingGone

  The next morning Elle walked into the kitchen followed by a dressed for general badassery Archer. He headed straight to the oven, turned it on, and set a bagel on the rack. He looked at Elle questioningly but she shook her head.

  Carbs were the devil.

  Instead she hit the coffeepot and poured two cups, handing one to the big, silent alpha leaning against the counter while he waited for the bagel to heat up. He gave her one of those smiles that made her knees wobble.

  Morgan came in and eyed them both. “Cozy,” she noted.

  Ignoring that, Elle found an orange in the fridge and commandeered it.

  “Seriously,” Morgan said. “The big guy’s even smiling.” She turned to Elle. “Nicely done.”

  Elle rolled her eyes. “Gotta get to class,” she said as she grabbed her purse.

  “I’ll take you.” Archer looked at Morgan. “And you.”

  “I can call a cab.”

  Archer shook his head. “I got a call from Trev. They managed to triangulate the last calls from the burner phone, which were all placed from the Tenderloin District. We have a job we can’t get out of this morning but this afternoon we’re going to try to root Lars out. Until then, I need you two to stay in the Pacific Pier Building.”

  They drove in silence, everyone apparently locked in their own thoughts. As for Elle, hers bounced all over the place, from the danger Morgan had brought to their door to giving Archer another shot at her heart—which was possibly the most terr