Graphically Novel (Love Hashtagged #3) Page 5

  They walked in silence for a while, Archer with his hands shoved in his pockets, sometimes drifting closer and sometimes drifting away again. When he spoke, his voice blended with the surrounding scenery. “Anime club’s not paying off the way it used to. It doesn’t drive up sales anymore, and there’s no point in letting them leech my back room if they’re not buying anything.”

  “What’s the real reason?” She wouldn’t push under most circumstances, but he brought it up. She’d try to pry it out of him, and drop the subject if she couldn’t.

  He leaned back against a nearby tree, tilted his head toward the sky, and propped one foot on the trunk. They’d wandered a ways off the trail, and any voices were rare and distant. For minutes at a time, it felt like they were the only people in the world. The silence was pleasant. Too bad she couldn’t bottle it for use later.

  He finally looked at her. “The store isn’t making as much money as has in the past. Most months we’re breaking even, but it’s why I didn’t replace Sam when she left for college.”

  “But you always have people in there, and you sell a ton of comics.”

  The corner of his mouth quirked up, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but it’s been a long time since you were around for more than about thirty minutes. I don’t always have people in there. And they buy comics, if they buy anything. The collectibles, the figurines, the board games—those were what made the money. No one wants those anymore.”

  An ache of sympathy rolled through her. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. The desire to help surged through her. She’d loan him the money, give it to him even, but he wouldn’t take it. “You can do stuff to expand, right? Sell online—things like that?”

  “I’m working on that.”

  The irritation in his voice caught her off guard. She found herself stepping back, and she crossed her arms. “All right. It was just a suggestion.”

  His expression softened, and he shoved away from the tree. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap.” He shoved his hair off his forehead. “I’ve got it under control. I needed to vent a little bit, is all.”

  She didn’t want to delve into any issue that made him scowl or threatened the afternoon. Not that she wanted to pursue most issues anyway, but now there were extra reasons to change the subject.

  His shoulders and neck relaxed, and he moved closer. He trailed a finger down her right arm, raising a trail of goose bumps. “I’m stressed about it, but I shouldn’t take my frustration out on you. I’m having a lot of fun this afternoon. More than I think I’ve ever had up here.”

  “No big deal.” The sun dropping toward the mountaintops, and the feather-light touches against her skin, were enough to chase away the residual tension over his reaction.

  He pursed his lips before giving her a casual half smile. He grabbed her fingertips, tugged her arms loose, and pulled her with him when he leaned against the tree again.

  She stopped less than a foot back, focusing on the friendly contact and the tingles it sent through her, tucking the awkward moment into the back of her thoughts.

  “I’ve pretty much driven the entire afternoon. Anything you want to do while we’re up here?” He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles.

  An uninvited image popped into her head—an expanded version of the fantasy that teased her at the end of the gondola ride—and heat flooded her skin. Knowing that wasn’t what he meant didn’t make it easier to shove the graphic suggestions out of her brain.

  It was a struggle to keep her voice steady and clear. “I hadn’t really thought about it.”

  He raked his gaze over her, drawing more ideas to the front of her thoughts. Memories of the look in his eyes when she stood in front of him naked. Murmurs of the thrill she got from telling him what she wanted.

  “Nothing at all? Because I’m open to suggestions,” he said.

  She shook her head, any response catching in her throat.

  “That’s too bad.” He raised a hand to the side of her face and traced the outer edge of her ear. “I was hoping you might describe your wishes to me in vivid, excruciating detail.” His voice dropped an octave.

  She raised her head. . The glint in his smile hadn’t been there before. Was he thinking the same thing she was? Take the chance. “I might have something in mind.”

  Chapter Seven

  “That is, if we’re allowed to do this again.” The shy current in Tori’s voice was nullified by her proximity, which let Archer feel her heat.

  He trailed a finger down her bare arm. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

  “You know—no strings. It didn’t mean anything. Doesn’t that mean no repeat performances?”

  “We’re not in love.” The reply came out weaker than he intended, and he swallowed, to find his voice again. “But if we had fun, there’s no rule that says we can’t do it again.”

  “Out here?” She didn’t look panicked or concerned. Instead, her smile moved in.

  He made a show of looking around. “We’re in the middle of nowhere. The closest voices are so far away, it doesn’t matter. But”—he dipped his head and hovered his mouth near her ear—“if you tell me the idea of something so intimate happening in a public place makes your blood run cold, we’ll leave.”

  “It does exactly the opposite.”

  He was really starting to adore this side of her. Daring. Less inhibited. “Is that a yes?”

  “Just don’t get us caught.”

  He skated his lips down her neck. “Unless whoever catches us wants to watch?”

  Her laugh blended into a moan. She pulled his head to hers and kissed him. Her tongue traced over his bottom lip before sliding into his mouth to tumble and tease.

  His cock pulsed and strained against his jeans. She tasted incredible. His body remembered what it felt like to be buried inside her, and it roared for another chance. But he still had enough sense to know stripping her down in public—isolated or not—wasn’t the best idea. There were other things he could think of, though, as delicious and requiring the removal of far fewer clothes.

  He spun, taking her with him, and pressed her back against a tree. He dropped a hand to her breast. When she moaned and ground her hip against his cock, it throbbed. Sometimes long, seductive hours of playing were nice, but this wasn’t the time or place, and the way she stroked the bulge below his waist told him she agreed.

  Every sound she made intoxicated him. When she spoke, her lips caressed his skin. “That feels good.”

  “That’s the point.” He wanted her to talk again. He hadn’t said it right the other night; he’d never been able to get a woman to open up during sex the way she did, and hearing Tori say what she wanted poured fuel on his desire.

  There was a pause, and then her reply reached out and grabbed him. “I’m so wet right now.”

  His dick strained painfully against its prison, but it would have to wait. He dropped his palm along her stomach and dipped below the waistband of her jeans. “I want to see for myself.” He hovered his mouth inches from her ear.

  His reward were tiny mewls tearing from her throat, and a wide-eyed nod.

  He undid her pants and then pushed under the elastic of her panties. Her heat greeted him, and her juices coated his fingers the moment he dipped between her folds. A guttural groan rumbled from him at the sensation, and his cock begged for a taste.

  Her gasp told him the hard nub under his fingers was where he wanted to be. He framed her clit with two digits, and stroked.

  As he rubbed faster, she closed her eyes and tilted her head back. Her moans came in small bursts. He rocked against her hand as she caressed his erection through his jeans. Her touch grew harder, more insistent, as his rhythm increased. She was stroking him now, as much as possible in this position. She bucked her hips and parted her lips.

  Tori’s, “I’m so close,” was quiet, but he heard it. He was pretty sure he was about to burst as well.

  He increased the pressure, rubbing
her clit harder and faster. Her breathing hit the frantic pace he recognized from the other night—a noise that teased him in his dreams.

  “Stick your fingers in me.”

  Oh, hell. He plunged his hand lower, palm still bumping her clit, and shoved two fingers in her tight opening. She arched her back against him, cry drifting up as she clenched around his fingers.

  He slowed as she did, but the throb below his waist was painful, and he had no idea what he was going to do about it. Fuck. This was a bad idea.

  She opened her eyes and pulled away from his touch. He gently eased his hand out. He could almost hear his penis chanting for its chance.

  “My turn,” she whispered.

  Before he could ask for clarification, she dropped to her knees. He swore his zipper sliding down was the loudest thing he’d ever heard. It took the last threads of his self-restraint not to let his groan echo off the trees, when she encased his shaft with her fingers and gently worked it free. His eyes rolled back in his head, as she glided her tongue up his length. His knees threatened to give out, when she took him in her mouth, and he had to secure one palm on the tree behind her, to keep his balance.

  A light laugh vibrated from her throat and through his skin, as she bobbed her head up and down, flicking her tongue over his sensitive head every few seconds. He’d been close to coming before she started sucking on him, and there was no way he could hold out with her full lips wrapped around him. He tried to pull her away. “Tori, hon.” His plea came in short gasps. “I won’t last much longer.”

  Instead of discouraging her, the warning spurred her on. The delicious sounds she made rolled through his dick as she sucked in time to pumping him with her hand. Tension built in his lower gut, and he dug his fingers into the tree. He grunted as he came, thrusting against the back of her throat, pounding until he was spent, and then going a little longer.

  She slowed when a shudder racked through him, and she kissed and licked him clean as she pulled away.

  He grabbed her upper arm and yanked her to her feet with desperation. He settled his hand at the small of her back and kissed her deeply. Was that himself he tasted on her lips? Holy fuck, she was incredible. He finally broke the kiss, and rested his forehead against hers.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” he said.

  “I know. But it was too tempting to pass up.” Impish. That was the only word he could think, of to describe the smile she gave him, as she looked up at him through her lashes.

  The voices that had stayed at a distance most of the afternoon drew close enough for Archer to make out words. He adjusted himself as best he could, shoved his cock back in his jeans, and straightened his clothes. He couldn’t take his eyes off Tori, while she zipped up and combed her fingers through her hair.

  She looked up, and met his gaze. Pink spread across her cheeks. “Should we head back down?”

  “Can I buy you dinner?” He wrapped an arm around her waist and steered her toward the trail, stumbling a few times as his legs regained their sense of balance. He couldn’t help but notice hers did something similar.

  “Aren’t you supposed to do that before, not after?”

  He shook his head and pulled her closer. Okay, so maybe that wasn’t appropriate, given their relationship—or lack thereof—but her curves yielded to his touch, and there would be plenty of time later to pull away. “I’m not always as traditional as I claim to be.”

  “I’m fine with that.” She lay her head against his side and slipped her hand into his back pocket. “Dinner would be wonderful.”

  * * * *

  The ride home was quiet, but it didn’t have the awkwardness Archer expected. It felt appropriate. Occasionally, he looked out the corner of his eye and caught Tori studying his profile, but she turned away quickly. He’d rather she spoke her mind, but he couldn’t complain about the sight of the plump, fleshy swell of her kissable bottom lip, as she bit into it.

  Best not to let the thought linger. No-strings sex was fine, but experience had taught him spending too much time living in memories created ties that were painful to sever.

  They pulled up in front of Gwen’s diner, next to Tori’s car, and he put his vehicle in park. He reached across her for the glove compartment, and… did she lean into his touch? No, he had to be projecting. He grabbed her phone and sat up. “Thanks for playing along today.”

  She shifted her posture, as if she struggled to keep the corners of her mouth pulled up. She darted her eyes to the device in his hand. “I had a lot of fun. Thanks for making me walk away for a little while.” Her hand twitched, and she rubbed the pad of her thumb over her middle and forefinger.

  He couldn’t hold back his sigh. Faster than he could blink, she’d jumped head first into the same anxiety he tried to make her forget. “Don’t work too late?” He handed her the phone.

  “I’ll do what I have to.” She powered it on the moment she had it in her grip, tapping her thumb against the edge while it loaded up.

  With that, she was out of his car and heading toward her own, the sickly glow of her BlackBerry illuminating her skin, as she dropped into her driver seat. He watched for another minute or two as she started the engine, but she didn’t drive away. She moved her lips, and she shook her head. A scowl spread across her face, and a second later, she raced her thumbs over the keypad.

  No job could be worth that kind of stress. Why couldn’t she tell them where to stick it?

  He honked, to let her know he was leaving, but she didn’t even look up, her lips moving as quickly as her thumbs, while she typed out replies to whatever had her brow creased.

  At least Riley had never taken any shit from a job.

  The moment the name passed through his mind, the lingering pleasantness of the day vanished. Fooling around with Tori was a temporary thing. He wasn’t falling again, even for her. Which was why he wanted nothing more with Tori than they already had. He needed to remember that. Drill it deep into his thoughts and not let go of it. No matter how much fun he had with her or how good she tasted or how much he loved the sound of her moans.

  Chapter Eight

  Tori paused halfway up the walk to Archer’s, to admire the view. Not the well-trimmed shrubs lining the path or the tulips growing under the window—she watched the show on the other side of the bay window, in the open space that had been a living room when the house was built, over one hundred years ago, but was now the main floor of his shop.

  Every movement he made stretched or elongated a new group of muscles along his back, neck, and arms. He rearranged something under the counter while he talked to a girl, who seemed about fourteen or fifteen and as captivated by Archer as Tori was.

  Tori had ignored the attraction for a long time, but it wouldn’t hurt to watch. They’d cleared the air, they both knew they didn’t like each other like that, and he really was nice to look at. Her schedule had kept them from getting together again since the escape to the mountains, almost a week ago, but they’d texted, and everything seemed cool between them. He was right; she really could do no-strings sex.

  She stored the rambling thoughts and made her way to the shop entrance. The bell on the door chimed in greeting. She’d always thought that was a nice touch. A deceptively low-tech device, in a room wired with hidden cameras and alarms.

  Archer looked up at the sound, and his customer took the excuse to study him again. Tori couldn’t help but smile. Poor girl had no idea that even if she were ten years older, he was so far from interested in a relationship, it wasn’t funny. An unfamiliar ache throbbed in Tori’s chest, and she ignored it.

  He nodded her over. “I’m surprised you broke free of the house-arrest bracelet.”

  “Why are you on house arrest?” The teenager’s eyes grew wide, and she finally looked at Tori, taking a step back as she did.

  Tori twisted her mouth to the side. How was she supposed to respond to that?

  Archer laughed. “I’m teasing her, because she works too hard.”

 
“Oh.” The girl didn’t look convinced. She continued to eye Tori warily, while leaning closer to Archer.

  “This is Mara. Trigun.”

  Mara cleared her throat—an exaggerated sound. “Sexy Trigun.”

  Of course. Because a red, desert-and-battle-torn trench coat was a sexy thing. Tori was there to take measurements for that custom-costume order. She gave Mara a closer look. Close-cropped blonde hair, with streaks of pink. She was maybe an inch or two taller than Tori and had a slender build. Well, she had the body to pull the look off.

  Tori extended her hand. “I’m Tori.”

  Mara hesitated before returning the handshake. “And you make all the cosplays people wear?”

  “I make a lot of them.”

  “But have you done something like this before?”

  Tori didn’t flinch under the scrutiny. She’d done sexy vampires, sexy zombies, and sexy androids. “Not specifically.”

  “How do you plan to do this??”

  Tori expected the question and welcomed it. It was a lot easier to work on a costume when the idea wasn’t fully formed in the client’s mind. Those who had a very specific image of what they wanted were usually disappointed by things like how gravity impacted clothing. Fortunately, Archer had warned her upfront what outfit was being requested, so she’d had time to think on the way over. “A fitted short skirt, strategically placed bandages on the chest, with a hidden zipper in back and a battered coat that hangs open enough to tease, but not enough to show anything inappropriate.”

  Mara’s posture relaxed. She glanced at Archer. “What do you think?”

  “I think you should trust the talented seamstress.”

  “But do you think I’ll look good?”

  “You’ll look fantastic.” Maybe Tori had misjudged her age. Maybe she was closer to thirteen or fourteen. Mara didn’t look at her, but instead kept her attention focused on Archer.