Page 57 of Shots Fired

“You’re so fucking naughty—you know that? There’s nothing British or ladylike about you when you let me spread you open and plow into this cunt.”

His hips pump into me, grinding deeper each time.

I turn my head to look at him. “Does forbidden fucking get you off?” I murmur against his lips.

Archer runs his tongue along my bottom lip, and I draw it between my teeth, tasting him.

“I know I shouldn’t be touching you like this. When I put my hands on you, I know I’m crossing a line. But the thing is …” He rolls into me again as I overhear Jack, Kendra, and Jenna trying to find a key so they can get their jackets and leave. Archer swallows thickly. “I’m prepared to take the risk because I can’t stay away from you. We’re just the same, Darcy. Other idiots might say that your laugh is too loud or you talk too much. I say I can’t get enough of it. Of you.”

My orgasm hits me. Hard. Like a cannon between my thighs, ricocheting throughout my body. Archer covers my mouth with his, swallowing down my cries as he kisses me through it.

I pull back, whispering so quietly that I can barely hear myself, “Come inside me, Archer. Do it.” I know I’m letting my emotions take over, but fuck it; this boy is all I want in this moment. In so many moments.

Archer hated being apart for the past week—well, that makes two of us.

He supports my body weight with one arm, holding the door handle when someone on the other side tries it again.

When I feel his warm flow spill inside me, we’re both rendered speechless, mouths locked on each other as we fall from our silent highs.

He drops his forehead against mine, grinning like an idiot, while I press my lips together, fighting back laughter I know will give us away.

“Shhh!” He brings his pointer finger to his lips, laughing under his breath too.

“How do we get out of here, unseen?” I ask, slightly panicked, eyes darting around the darkened space.

Archer kisses the underside of my jaw, shoulders still vibrating with humor. “We wait it out. This is a storage closet.” He points toward a faint outline of a mop and bucket. “Not the cloakroom. As soon as they figure that out, we’ll be in the clear.”

I narrow my eyes at him. He’s still hard and inside me. “You had this all worked out, didn’t you?”

He shakes his head. “No. It’s just blind luck I picked this room. My brain doesn’t function well whenever I’m around you.”

He grins wide and rolls his hips again, and I gasp.

“Are we going again?”

He nods once, taking my mouth in another searing kiss. “We are. And then again when I get you back to my bed.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

ARCHER

“This has been the longest five-day series ever.” Jack rolls onto his back, fingers interlaced across his chest as he stares up at the hotel ceiling.

Ordinarily, I share a hotel room with Sawyer, but the new GM has come in and immediately shaken things up, including the comfortable routines we got ourselves into. I can’t say he’s made himself popular with the team or Coach Morgan, especially since our preseason friendlies have largely been wins.

We’ve rolled Boston over twice, and I’ve played well, securing two shutouts. Jensen Jones is due to start with the coaching staff when we head back to New York tomorrow, and I’m hopeful that with his added input, I can make this my best NHL season yet.

Jack’s right though; despite the successful preseason away series, this has been the longest time ever. Only made longer by having to hide my phone and text Darcy in secret.

And I feel shitty for it. Secret sex in the closet is exciting, fun, and so fucking hot. But replying to messages when her brother takes a shower is not what I want for our friendship.

It irks me because I look around and see all the other guys on our team video-calling and messaging their wives and partners while I’m stealing a quick text from my girl like it’s a drug hit, feeling ashamed when I do it. Hell, I’m pretty sure I caught the back end of Jack and Kendra’s phone sex when I walked into the hotel room the other day, having finished a gym session earlier than expected.

“I don’t know how you do it.” Jack sits up on his bed, pulling out his phone and typing something—no doubt to his wife.

I study him with envy. “Do what?”

Finishing up, he sets his cell phone on the bed. “With Abbie. It’s hard enough, being married and trying to fit around soccer and hockey schedules, let alone what you have to do. I mean, when was the last time you saw her?”