That night, I rest in my bed, desperately trying to keep my thoughts under wraps. In the quiet, I cannot help from remembering Archer’s breathy whisper.
You’re mine.
He is a raving, arrogant asshole who does not deserve my late night thoughts, let alone my desires. But my body unfortunately has a mind of its own.
I am an i***t. He was only claiming me as his property, not in any kind of romantic or s****l way. He even said before, I own you. This is just a dressed-up version of that.
Yet despite all this, my body burns hot with memories of him and his bare muscled chest, arms flexing as he pumped iron.
Or, God help me, the way he had that girl bent over the bench in his room. The way he smacked her ass, the things he said…
They shouldn’t have been sexy. I never had s*x but I can’t im
