Big Dick Energy - Cindi Madsen Page 0,45

snort was far from sexy, but it made him laugh, so I checked it off as a win. “Yeah, that one where you replied ‘On it’ totally took my breath away.” I leaned closer, encompassing him in a bubble only big enough for two. “I know that sounded sarcastic, but after our perpetual clashing, I for reals had to fan myself.”

I demonstrated, batting my eyes and waving my hand in front of my face.

His hand circled my thigh, the squeeze he gave it sending my stomach drifting up to crowd my rib cage.

Our waitress finally backed away, although I’d bet a hundred bucks Catalina had added a glare to speed the process.

Archer leaned in, his warm breath hitting the shell of my ear and sending a shiver down my spine. “The one where you admitted I”—he made air quotes while maintaining his grip on my thigh, the twitch of his fingers sending drunken butterflies through my core—“actually had a good idea.’”

My chest bumped into his biceps as I twisted toward him. “That’s not how I worded it.”

“It is. I could pull it up right now.”

I continued to shake my head, and he continued to nod. “Just when I thought we might actually be getting along.”

“See. There you go with that word again. Anytime you think about using it, take a second to listen to how much better the sentence would sound without it.” He pitched his voice higher. “‘Why Archer, that’s such a good idea’ versus ‘wow, that’s actually a good idea.’

“Or for instance ‘You’re actually funny and ridiculously good-looking and fun to hang out with’ compared to ‘You’re so funny and handsome and I totes want to hang out with you.’”

“Totes?” I curled my hand against his neck and toyed with the ends of his hair. “When did I start speaking like a teenage girl? Or say any of that stuff?”

“I’m still waiting. But when you do say it, how about don’t put the actually in front of it.”

“Actually, I think you’re getting carried away.”

Had he moved closer, or had I? “That might be on account of how much I enjoy being around you, Penelope Jones. I think you’re witty and smart and you make me laugh. No actually about it.”

“I know I gave you shit about it, but you can call me Penny.”

“Nah,” he said, his voice dipping so low it vibrated through my palm, across my arm, and to the center of my chest. “I’m gonna keep on calling you Penelope. Seems like I’m about the only one who does.”

My ovaries leapt as though needing to clarify they were Team Archer, and no matter how many times I tried to swallow, my throat wouldn’t cooperate.

“Is this okay?” he asked, tapping his thumb to my inner thigh to clarify. His dark eyebrows scrunched together, his inner turmoil written across features he typically kept better shuttered. “My cocky side insists you’d tell me and that asking downplays my confidence, which I happen to have in spades, in case that wasn’t already clear. But after our chat on Thursday… your consent is important to me.”

Wow. The butterflies grew in intensity and crashed into one another, as if they’d never be happier to be shouting mayday while plummeting to the ground. “The answer is yes—to both it being okay and knowing about your heaps and heaps of confidence—and I appreciate that.”

Two grooves popped in his cheeks with his smile, and then he reached across me and stole a few of my fries. He went to shove them in his mouth, and I caught his wrist.

“Wait, you need to try their ketchup. It’s my favorite.” I guided his hand toward the puddle of red, experiencing a thrill that he let me pull on his puppet strings for a moment, and then I guided the food to full lips I’d failed to properly admire before.

“Mmm. Is that cayenne pepper?”

“That’s my guess, but the chef refuses to tell me his secret ingredient and claims there’s more than one. So good, though, right?”

“Ellie and I are gonna hit the ladies’ room,” Catalina said, scooting away from the table, and Ellie followed suit.

Sometime during the past five minutes or so, I’d sorta forgotten they were even there.

But now that Archer and I were officially alone at the table, I began to wonder if it’d be so bad to loosen the iron grip on my self-control and allow the rest of me to take the reins. Just for tonight.

17

Archer

Condensation leaked into my palm, but I didn’t dare