Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
My cock jerked, noticing the way he looked in sweats.
Seeing the image of his hand on my ass while in the parking lot of the doctor’s office made me want to shift in my seat.
“Are you not coming in?” he asks as he pockets his phone.
Hell no. Three strikes and I’m out for the day.
“I have another appointment,” I lie. “I’ll be here tomorrow to take you to your yoga class.”
“I don’t do yoga,” he responds.
“You do starting tomorrow.”
I expect him to argue like he did with the news of therapy, but he can’t seem to manage it with his eyes locked on my lips.
I’m working on strike four when he leans a little closer to me.
“We’re working hard to rebuild your image,” I say, thinking that speaking will make him refocus his attention elsewhere. “Don’t do anything stupid to derail that effort.”
Archer nods like he’s agreeing, but then his head dips lower.
Warm lips press against mine, and in the next second, they’re gone. It was a peck, a simple brush. No big deal, but it leaves me speechless.
“Just in case the paps happen to have a drone or something.” He winks at me before climbing out of the SUV.
I sit there in shock, watching as he climbs the expansive stone steps to his front door.
It’s not that he kissed me, if you can even really call that a kiss. It’s the fact that my heart is pounding once again. It’s that I was a fraction of a second from opening my mouth to him.
I shake my head, reminding myself that I’ve kissed hundreds of women, and it’s just muscle memory to tangle tongues when lips are pressed to mine.
When Archer turns back around, waving at me before disappearing inside, I realize I just watched his jeans-clad ass all the way up.
Clearing my throat like I’ve been caught doing something wrong, I put the vehicle in drive and pull away, passing a limo on the wide driveway before exiting out of the gate.
I only get a half of a block away before suspicion gets the better of me. According to the information Wren has provided, Archer doesn’t have anyone in his life other than Davien Hartman, and the intel provided said that he’d be in California for the next couple of weeks.
Although I just gave the man instructions not to get into any trouble, I wouldn’t put it past him to behave exactly how Deacon advised he does. We’re more than willing to help at Blackbridge Security, but if a client insists on being a solid pain in the ass, then we won’t waste our time or resources that would be better suited for those that actually want the help without sabotaging all our efforts.
Parking my SUV on the side of the road, I exit it and climb a portion of the fence running through a copse of trees. Statuary, fountains, and trees keep my cover hidden as I inch closer to the house.
Reasoning for doing this is formulating in my mind the closer I get. If I get caught, I’ll explain that I’m also responsible for making sure his place is secure, but the ease of getting to the house actually starts to concern me because just anyone can jump that fence and do this very same thing.
The limo seems deserted, the driver, I presume, having gone inside along with whomever was in the back.
The man’s secrets leaked out, and Wren has been working on figuring out who spilled those beans, but I realize just how easy it would be for someone to press a camera lens right to the unobstructed glass and get all sorts of shots of what’s going on inside.
I didn’t look at the images that hit dozens of gossip sites. I’m here to do a job, not give in to the fodder surrounding Archer’s case. I have no idea where those pictures were taken, but it wouldn’t surprise me if his privacy was violated right in this very spot.
My hands clench as I watch an armed man in a tuxedo—the limo driver, I’m guessing—step to the side to reveal a young guy with a baseball hat. He’s holding a briefcase at his side, and the sight of it makes my hackles go up.
I narrow my eyes, trying to get a better look without standing from my crouched position when the man opens the briefcase.
Archer starts to reach in but pulls his hand back immediately at something the tuxedo guy barks. Archer nods, his eyes still locked on the contents of the briefcase as he pulls a wad of cash from his pocket.
My blood is boiling when the man reaches into the case and produces several baggies. The exchange is made, and the man closes the briefcase as the armed man counts the money.
Archer pays neither of them any attention as they turn to leave. He shoves the baggies in the drawer of the side table. Curled practically in a ball, I wait for the men to exit the house, climb in their vehicle, and drive away.