Page 23

Archer

I need to get Mia alone. Not just so I can sink my cock deep inside her.

She’s aware of tonight’s plan, and all that it includes. She looks the part—fucking hell, does she nail that. And she’s been acting the part, until the first chink in her armor threatened to dissolve the entire charade. Something had spooked her. Uncertainty slowly took hold. Eye contact became an effort. The constant flutter at her throat grew rapid. There was a tremble in her hand as she took her handbag from the table. It was as if she had seen a ghost.

Dancing was a good distraction, and as much as I loathe it, holding Mia in my arms was nothing but enjoyable. Her confession about the guests wasn’t surprising. But her vehemence behind it was. I had to remind myself that my everyday grind—the people and threats I get paid to handle—is abnormal for most. I’ve seen the lowest of the low. Been aware of sickening motives. And witnessed unbridled desperation from some.

But that doesn’t mean Mia has. And when I told her I would shield her from the shit I deal with if I could, I meant it. But the truth is, Mia has shown nothing but willingness and a hell of a lot of guts this past week. She’s overcome frightening situations and continued on. She’s outsmarted the assholes who forced her to find the cuff at every turn. Because she’s strong and brilliant. And her courage at what she’s faced is more than some men I know.

Her hand is hot in mine. A slickness grows against our palms as we descend. I look behind me every few steps, mindful of her footing. Of course she can wear the shit out of a pair heels that accentuate her toned legs. I haven’t been able to keep my eyes off of them. I know I’m not the only one whose admiring glances linger a beat too long at her delicate ankles. Or the sculpted curve of her calves. Or the feminine shape of her thighs. Thighs that are only covered by a few inches of fabric. And maybe if we were here under different circumstances, I’d make my caveman thoughts known to any man who looked at her. I’m not proud of it, but it’s the truth.

Her hair sways behind her, tied high. She’s keeping with my pace, but even so, it’s a step and a half to my one.

People are scattered. Some watching the land grow smaller as we leave the dock, some sipping on champagne whose price does not warrant its disappointing bitter taste. No one pays us any mind as we weave our way through. No one notices the urgency I feel; they can’t see the way my heart beats fiercely for the woman beside me, nor can they see the elicit thoughts that have hit me like a squall—abrupt and powerful.

The hallway is empty and the doors to all the staterooms are closed. I wish I had Blaze’s lock picking kit, but I don’t. Mia drops her hand from mine. I reach behind me for my knife, the fabric of my jacket going taut at the shoulders.

“Awfully quiet, Arch…” Like a rudely timed intervention, Blaze’s voice fills my ear.

I wiggle the knife in the lock, happy that marine doors aren’t as sturdy as their domestic counterparts. The lock gives easily.

“Just getting the lay of the land, is all.” I pull Mia into the room with me. She’s quiet, knowing I’m having a conversation with the team.

“Even though you know it already from the schematics you pulled up?” This time it’s Legion.

“Better to be safe than sorry,” I say, immediately pressing the switch on my earpiece to off . They’ll know I’m bullshitting when I cite “technical difficulties,” but I don’t give a fuck right now.

Reengaging the lock fills the empty room with a click .

In front of me stands Mia. There’s a flush to her cheeks. She wrings her hands together and asks, “Can they hear us?”

I shake my head, not wanting to waste another minute. “Disabled it.”

It’s all she needs to hear. In a single long stride, she collides with my chest. Her breath leaves her in a rush as she captures the back of my neck. Nails scrape at my nape. Fingers press into my skin.

I crush my lips to hers, enjoying their softness and the way she instantly whimpers at my touch. My hands land on the swell of her ass, pulling her against my cock. There’s a surrender to the way her body goes slack. The way she melts into me. Telling me to take the lead.

My cock presses painfully against these goddamn dress pants. Mia lifts her leg, the patent leather of her shoe gliding down the fabric over my calf. I take the back of her thigh—that silken, underrated area just behind the knee—and lift it higher. I angle her better so I can grind myself against her core. I’m like a rutting animal, not able to get his fill.

“Dillon,” she says with a desperate whisper. She’s tightened her grip on me, uneasy on one foot.

I drop her leg like it’s burning my palm. “Turn around,” I instruct.

A flash of surprise flits across her eyes, but she complies. With my left hand, I ruck up the hem of her dress until her beautiful ass is bared. Snaking my right hand around her front, I tease her. I pull her thong to the side and dip into her slick heat, feeling myself grow even harder at just how wet she is. For me .

“Is this what you need?” I ask, grazing my teeth down the column of her throat. I nip at the skin, turning it a temporary shade of pink. My tongue licks the area and I taste the hint of saltiness. Her signature scent of jasmine is enough to make me delirious with want.

I continue to play with her, adding another finger. So fucking tight.

“Yes,” she says breathily. “Any way I can get you.” Her hand comes to rest on my thigh, inadvertently pushing her against me further. “Please.”

I stop at the frantic pulse of her neck and smile. “Always with the manners.” She responds with a frustrated huff. The bunched sequins of her dress crackles as it rubs together with her agitated movements. “Any way, hmm?” I ask, loving how eager she is. “Bend over so I can fill you with my cock.”

The bed is near and she leans down, resting her forearms willingly. Her pert ass sits high. I don’t even realize I’ve bitten the inside of my cheek until I taste faint copper in my mouth.

“Always with the orders,” she says veritably. She’s not mad about it.

I line the tip of my swollen cock with her sex. I give her an inch, watching the way my head disappears. “With the way your pussy is dripping for me, I don’t think you’re complaining —” At the last word, I thrust into her until my balls collide with her. My hips make a sharp slap against the flesh of her backside. The sudden force draws a deep moan from Mia. Her forehead drops to the comforter.

“Again—”

So, I do. As much for her as myself. I’m coated with her arousal, and I swallow, stunned at the sight of her before me. Mia’s turned, watching me as I enter her over and over again. She takes her lower lip between her teeth. Her gloss is smeared from our kiss. She arches her spine, displaying her narrow back. The scrap of fabric between her legs rubs the side of my dick with every thrust I make. The thong will be utterly useless after this.

I haven’t been inside her for more than a few minutes when that heat at the base of my spine tells me I’m closer than I’d like to be. This isn’t a leisurely romp back in Spain. One where we had the entire night to be together. This is merely scratching an itch.

But it’s a sensation I know will never be satiated. I don’t want this to end. I don’t want to walk away from Mia when this is all over. All I know is she’s meeting me, thrust for thrust now. Her walls squeeze my cock and I slide into her with an intensity borne from complete adoration.

Because I’m gone for this woman. It’s something I’ve tried to ignore and failed miserably at. My one weakness. A hardened military man taken down by a woman. I’ve never been happier to crash and burn.

I grasp at her hips forcefully. She’s light and easy to move, and my fingertips make white indents into the soft skin. A bead of sweat drips from behind my ear down into my collar. And I feel another as I pull Mia to me for the last time. Stilling. Inside her as I empty myself.

My muscles freeze in place, relishing in the sensation that causes me to roar her name. Sharp gasps and heavy breaths fill the room.

This is the least contact we’ve had during sex. The most clothing we’ve worn. But it’s no less intense with its outcome.

I pull out of her, selfishly taking my time. She falls to her side in a satisfied sigh, cradling her head on her arm. Her eyes rake down me, taking in the disheveled state of my pants and shirt. It’s faint, but the corner of her mouth quirks up.

Thankfully, there’s an en suite and I tell her I’ll be right back. It’s fully stocked with linens. Taking a moment to gather myself, I do what I have to—radio silence for much longer will be suspicious.

Mia hasn’t moved when I enter the room. I kneel down at the side of the bed with a warm washcloth, bringing my finger to my mouth. I remove her panties and place them in my pocket as a souvenir.

“Shh,” I motion to my ear. And it’s mere seconds before I have company.

“A temporary malfunction with our equipment…?” I hear Legion say. “Can’t be.”

“I agree,” Blaze says tauntingly. “I think in this case, ‘malfunction’ is code for ‘fucking.’”

I hear a scuffle like one of them has put their hand over their mics. It goes quiet and then I hear Midas say, “I’m a glorified babysitter. Sorry, Arch.”

I won’t play into it, giving confirmation one way or the other for the temporary lapse in communication. It was selfish, but now that Mia has her usual brightness back in her eyes, it was worth it. “Tell me again where you found those two? The pound?” I help Mia up, straightening her dress when my ear becomes filled with horrible renditions of dogs howling. “Jesus Christ.”

When we’re presentable again—clothing smoothed down, my jacket concealing the Glocks in their holsters, and Mia’s lips perfectly polished—we sneak out of the stateroom.

“What time is it?” Mia asks, holding my arm with both hands.

“Twenty-one thirty hours,” I say, visually sweeping the hall.

She leans into me and I can hear the smile in her voice. “Dillon. I like to pride myself on my intelligence,” she begins, but pauses and points to my ear, slicing a hand across her throat. I kill the signal. “But I can’t compute that time when you’ve just given me an orgasm. An amazing one at that.” Mia shivers slightly and I can’t help the fucking grin that plasters my face. “And don’t think that smugness is enough to get away with the fact that I am now commando because of you.”

“Nine thirty. Looks like we better find some seats,” I say, changing the subject quickly and switching the comms back on. I usher her in front of me as we pass through a small crowd of people. I stay close behind her as she takes the stairs. I’m eye level with her lower back and I conceal a chuckle to myself. Because, yeah, I am smug about taking her panties. She’ll just have to get even with me later.

The auction deck boasts at least twenty rows of chairs, with an aisle down the center. We find two vacant seats to the right, halfway back. There’s a large monitor behind the podium. Next to it is a pedestal, presumably where they display the item that’s up for bidding.

An ambient white noise fills the room, much like the din of a small coffee shop. Mia shifts, allowing a white-haired man to pass her and take the seat next to me. Murmurs of excitement about the cuff swirl around from person to person.

I lean over to Mia when the monitor’s screen changes. “Starting bid is ten million ?” I ask. “Jesus…”

She places her hand on my knee. “I’m expecting it to go for much higher than that.”

To be honest, I hadn’t even thought about a price for the cuff. I just know it’s my job to outbid everyone clamoring to own it. “Are you nervous?” I ask. Her hand is incredibly warm on my leg. Her legs are crossed and her toe taps in the air.

“A little. Well, yes. I mean, this is it, right?” she says with a hushed tone. Mia leans in closer, feigning a kiss to my cheek. Instead, she says, “I hate that I’m about to say this, but wouldn’t it be easier to just steal it at this po—” Then, her restless leg ceases. “Oh my God.” My eyes dart to where she’s looking. A man in round spectacles has made his way to the podium. “It’s him,” she says alarmingly.

“Who?”

“Dr. Carl McIntyre.”

I bristle at the name. The piece of shit that forced Mia into the coffin and left her for dead. My nostrils flare and it suddenly grows very warm in the room. I inhale deeply through my nose, placing a protective hand over her thigh.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the fucking coward says. “I welcome you tonight. Our next item to be auctioned off brings a new meaning to the word ‘rare’.” He adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose. I picture how it would look once my fist has made contact with it. “The Love Cuff has been believed to be lost to history. Erased in the sands of time. Until recently…” He goes on to build up its reputation, not that its needed. These people are here and willing to drop some serious cash on it without any preamble.

“Without further ado, I’ll turn it over to the auctioneer. Good luck.” He pauses briefly, and I don’t know if anyone else picks up on the sly smile that forms on his lips. Greedy son of a bitch. He takes a seat in the front row next to a man in a tuxedo.

The bidding begins at an unfathomable amount to someone like me. Good thing the money behind my paddle is inconsequential.

“Ten-point five?” the man on stage asks.

A woman that’s dripping in diamonds raises her hand.

“Do I hear eleven?”

I raise my hand.

The bidding goes back and forth in increments of five hundred thousand, until it reaches a staggering seventeen million. I sigh. Call it impatience, call it cockiness, or even the strong desire to put these assholes in their place, but I lift my hand high in the air and simply say, “Fifty.”

Heads turn. Soft gasps spread through the seated crowd. And above up-dos and overly styled cuts, I can see Carl vainly attempting to see who has easily squashed the competition.

Even the auctioneer stammers. “W-well, a generous offer indeed. Do I hear fifty-point one?” A low laugh escapes me. Evidently the uptick in bidding decreases to a hundred thousand once you reach the fifty-million-dollar threshold.

No one counters my bid. “Very well,” the voice from the front says. “Sold. For fifty million.” I’m a little disappointed there’s no slamming of a gavel at my winning. But I suppose that’s reserved for the county fairs, not a shady auction that could make Sotheby’s look inexpensive.

There’s a gentle round of applause, and even the man next to me says a stout Well done, my boy! Internally I roll my eyes and it takes everything in me not to reply with a Right oh, chap!

At my side, Mia squeezes my leg. “We won!” She’s all soft curves and warm lips as she leans over to kiss my cheek. Then she pulls away like she’s been hit with a taser. Something has made her stop dead in her tracks. Her jaw goes slack and the color drains from her face. All excitement has been replaced with a shock that causes her entire body to go rigid.

I follow her gaze. Carl’s face morphs from prying curiosity to an alarmed realization when he sees Mia.

And suddenly, I understand the perplexity on her face. Because standing next to Carl is Conrad Perry.

Mia’s father .