Page 72 of Sinful Promise
His cock taunts me, and his hands drop to my hips. He nuzzles his lips against my neck—at least I’ve already done my hair in a fast updo to keep it off my skin—but still, I search my too-small closet.
“You’re so obsessed with the mayor, you can’t even do me a favor and suck my dick?”
“You’re a pig,” I laugh. But I know he’s being crass for the sake of humor. “I have no idea what I’m supposed to wear, Archer. It’s not, like, a ball. So no gown. But it’s not dinner with Fletch either, so I need to do better than yoga pants.”
“So… find something in the middle. What about,” he reaches over me and tugs at a knee-length dress. “This is cute. Doesn’t show off too much cleavage, but it’s navy, so you can still look professional. Put on a pair of heels, keep your hair up, and call it good.”
“Well…” Frowning, I pull the dress from its hanger and turn to slip it on. Only, it’s one of those wraparound kinds, so then I get to work tugging the laces on the side. “What are you wearing?”
“Right now?” He looks down at his dick and smirks. “The exact right amount of clothes for your access to not be impeded.”
“I’m not sucking your dick and kissing the mayor’s wife on the cheek when he inevitably introduces us.”Since it’s her stupid party.“I refuse.” Shaking my head and detangling the ties on my dress, I manage to open it wide. Then I shrug it on the way I would a dressing gown, and tuck the lengths of fabric where they belong. “You need to put some pants on.”
“Because seeing my cock makes you horny?”
While I work with the laces of my dress, he saunters to the dresser and takes out a pair of boxers. His thighs are broad and strong, peppered with dark hair. And his ass is just…
I sigh and bring my gaze back to my dress.
He laughs. “Yeah.” He steps through one leghole of his underwear, then the other, before pulling them up and tucking himself away. “I know you want me.”
“Maybe I do. Maybe I don’t.” Frustrated, I throw the laces of my dress down and bring my hands up. “Stupid thing won’t tie properly.”
“Because you’re doing it wrong.” Snapping the waistband of his shorts and grinning when my eyes shoot to his, he comes back my way and stops only when he’s entirely too close.
And yet, when I press my cheek to his chest and exhale, I figure he’s the exact right distance away.
He wraps me up close and hugs my face so his hand cups my cheek. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I—”
“Minka Mayet,” he growls now, firmer in his words and determination. “Talk it out, so I can help you.”
“Mia was almost Fentone’s next victim.” My throat burns from the words alone. “Charlie’s devastated and needs us with him tonight. My dress doesn’t work properly, and we’re going to the mayor’s house. For a party I don’t want to attend. With people I don’t feel comfortable around. I have to do the weird ‘how do you do’s’, and the mayor will want to talk to me.”
“And you don’t want to talk to him?”
“No.” I know my lips fall into a pathetic pout, but I can’t help myself. “I don’t want to talk to him.”
“Because he’s mean to you?”
“Because he cares about me,” I whimper. “He cares, like he likes to collect daughters. It’s as though he gets off on adding to the stress and worry in his life, because his girls—Jen and Tabitha—they’re my age. Like, seriously close to my age! We could have gone to school together. He has them, and he clearly wants them to be safe and happy. And now he’s taken this super formal, mayor and chief medical examiner relationship, and added a layer of caring that makes me uncomfortable.”
“Are you saying he’s been unprofessional?”
“No, he’s…” I squeeze my eyes shut and groan. “He’s been nothing but professional. But he still gives a shit, Archer. And now he runs this city like a drill sergeant in all the best ways. But his city has a killer running around murdering pedophiles the night before said pedophile was going to hurt Mia freakin’ Fletcher. He’s not going to let that slide once he finds out.” I push my eyes open and lean away to catch his stare. “I have to look him in the eye tonight, knowing he cares about me. And I can’t tell him I know who the vigilante is.”
“And you’re so sure it’ll come up?” Giving himself just enough space between us, Archer brings his hands down and works on tying my dress so it sits right and doesn’t threaten a boob-malfunction at the worst possible moment. “What makes you think shop talk will come up at his wife’s birthday?”
* * *
“Chief Mayet.” We’re inside the mayor’s home on the hills overlooking Copeland City. It’s where the rich folks live. Where the independently wealthy congregate. And tonight, everyone but me wears a floor-length gown and perfectly styled hair and makeup.
But it’s worse, so much freakin’ worse, when the bastard steps back and points toward a woman in silver. “Sophia Solomon. And Ellie Solomon.” He gestures to the sisterly duo and remains blind to the way my body locks up.
Or how Archer tenses against my side.
Or how his fingers bruise my hip.
