She struggled in earnest then, but it did no good. He was too big and bearing down on her with his weight. She might as well have been a butterfly pinned to a lepidopterist’s board.
“So tell me, Lady Archer…” A large, surprisingly hot hand clamped down on her rump. She squeaked in shock. “What great magic will save you now?”
The other hand joined its mate, one encased in soft leather, one shockingly bare. Even through her drawers, she could tell the difference. She burned in humiliation as Archer held her bottom in his hands, moving them in slow, insolent circles. Her humiliation doubled as she fought against the heat and anticipation that grew within her.
“Do not try me,” she gritted out and attempted once more to thrust him away. The action only pushed her bottom into his pelvis.
Archer gave a small groan and pressed harder. “Show me, Lady Archer.” Butter-soft lips brushed her neck, his breath a hot caress. “Show me your defenses. I cannot wait forever.”
Hands slid from her rump to her hips, threatening to slip around to the front. A fine shudder ran through Archer’s frame, and he went still. “Do it now, or there is no turning back.”
She felt the tension gathering in him, his shock at how he touched her, and beneath it, a small tremor of want. She closed her eyes, her cheek pressed against the cold wall, the tips of her fingers slipping on the crumbling mortar. Oh please.
The horrifying heat between her legs began to throb, and the cold wall was a refuge for the fire in her skin as the muscles along her belly shivered. Feeling the movement, Archer’s body tightened around her. On a breath, his fingers curled, caressing the curve of her hipbones, a delicate fluttering that raised gooseflesh along her limbs. He swallowed audibly, his breath stirring tendrils of her hair. The fingers at her hips trembled as if they sensed the close proximity of their target, and her breath slowed to soft bursts. They tensed together at the edge of a precipice. Miranda licked her lips. She only had to speak. Tell him to stop. She knew it. He knew it. One word.
The silence grew still and thick. Her breasts were heavy, aching against the chilled wall, her nipples hard little points that chafed against her bodice with each rasping breath. Heat suffused her cheeks as lust surged within, taking her to that dark place in her mind that simply wanted. One word and he would walk away. She closed her eyes tight, bit her lip, and moved. A small nudge of her bottom that bid him to act.
His breath left on a soundless gasp. Embarrassment burned so hot, it pained Miranda’s cheeks. Archer’s body grew tighter, his heartbeat a tangible rhythm against her back. And then his hand, trembling with fear or perhaps anticipation, slowly began to move. Down, the tips of his fingers feathered, burning a trail toward the slit in her drawers.
Miranda’s teeth sank into her lip. Her corset became iron hands that would not let her breathe. His fingers brushed light as a kiss against her curls, and they both let out a pained gasp. Archer’s chest heaved against her, his breathing raw as if he’d run miles.
“Open.” His voice was a hot rasp against her ear.
Miranda swallowed hard. One step. Her knees buckled, and she clung to the wall, her eyes still shut tight.
His breath hitched. The blunt tip of his finger touched her flesh, and her head went light. She clung to the wall as that finger moved back and forth, so slow she thought she might scream.
“You’re wet.” Awe and desire darkened his voice to something almost unrecognizable. A faceless stranger touching her in the black night. “Wet for me.”
A strangled cry broke from her lips. It was all she could do.
He slipped deeper, stroking her, learning her. She pressed her aching breasts harder into the bricks, her fingers growing numb where she clutched tight. Unthinking, she moved her hips, rocking them against his touch. The forbidden act sent a fresh burst of heat over her skin.
Archer trembled. His mouth found the exposed skin over her bodice. His tongue snaked out, tasted her. “Faster?”
Miranda panted, tried to find the words. “Yes.”
Feather strokes slipped over the wet, taunting. She ground her teeth, and thrust her hips back into him. His cock was a hard weight against her back. His free hand gasped her hips, held