Page 104 of Shades of Silver City

As I stand there trying to come up with a way to explain what I meant—that she looks stunning but shines the brightest when she’s herself—Tasia starts chuckling. When it turns into full-blown laughter, Godric and I look at each other in confusion.

“Tasia,” I finally say, “that’s not—”

“Makes sense. I feel better in jeans.” She shakes her head. “This is downright bizarre.”

The knot in my chest unravels, and my shoulders finally relax a bit.

“You look unreal,” I say, “and I mean that in the most complimentary way possible—”

“No.” She waves a hand to cut me off. After a few more seconds of laughter, her posture becomes sturdier, and her hands relax at her sides. “Seriously, it’s okay. I’m glad I look better in jeans, ’cause jeans are my jam. There is no way in deep hell I could manage a look like this on a regular basis.”

She winks, and my brows shoot up.

I discreetly adjust my pants, trying to hide the effect this woman has on me.

When I first met her, this attraction came out of nowhere, quietly and subtly at first. Now, it’s roaring toward me like a rabid hellhound, and I’m at its mercy.

Once I’m able to think coherently again, I reach for my duffle bag on the floor beside the counter.

“Here,” I say, pulling out a pair of black satin gloves and handing them to her. “These are for you.”

She immediately slides her hands into them, smiling.

“Thank fuck,” she says. “I didn’t do my nails.” I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Archer. I’ll watch my mouth when we get there.”

Godric smirks at me, and I’m tempted to flick him off, but that’ll only make me look like a hypocrite.

Honestly, I’m just thankful Tasia’s feeling more like herself.

Locating my own pair of gloves, I pull them on, covering my Nightcrawler tattoo. A bit of ink spills out of my collar, still visible, but it’s nothing identifying. Merely art.

Next, I pull out my switchblade and open my jacket to stick it in the holster beside my gun.

“What the hell?” Tasia says. “You’re bringing a gun to a masquerade?”

I nod. “Of course.”

“What if someone gives you a hug and feels it?”

I laugh. “I don’t hug people.”

Except…that’s a lie, because I hugged her. The memory of her body in my arms, her soft skin, sends another bolt of lust downward.

It’s going to be a long night at this rate.

“What if you bring someone home with you and they undress you only to find you’re packing, and not in the way they expected?”

Frowning, I ask, “Why would I bring someone home with me?”

Her nose scrunches. “To fuck them?”

Before I can respond and tell her I will not disrespect her like that, even if she isn’t my true date, Godric starts to laugh. It’s not his normal short-lived laughter, either. It’s a full-bodied, contagious sound that fills the kitchen with life, booming off the walls.

It’s been so long since I’ve heard that sound that I can’t even be annoyed.

“Arch doesn’t fuck.” Godric eyes Tasia appreciatively, and a burst of fire spreads through my chest again. I subtly slide over a few inches, attempting to block her from his line of sight.

Godric’s eyes sparkle with mischief. He sidesteps me, leaning in closer to Tasia, whispering, “But if that’s what you’re looking for, I can help with—”

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