Page 77 of Shades of Silver City

Despite his topic change, I know this energy between us is affecting him too. But he sighs, runs his hands through his hair, and heads to the stairs. At the bottom step, he pauses and turns to me. “Do you mind if I use the shower in my room?”

“Really? You’re just… That’s it?” I struggle to regain my composure. Going from the intense flirting straight to…whatever this is has given me whiplash. It feels awfully like rejection. “Why would I? This is your house after all.”

He pauses before heading up the first few stairs. Before he’s out of sight, he turns to look at me. “I’ll be quick so you can get some rest, too.”

I stand there awkwardly, blinking through the fog of lust.

There’s no way I imagined the heavy flirting and attraction coming from Archer’s side. No way.

Maybe I’m brave, or stupid, or my hormones are holding me hostage, but once I hear the shower turn on, I decide to take a risk.

I’ll make it clear to Archer that I want him, that I want this—whatever this is. Sex. Distraction. Pleasure. Because at the end of the day, with all the dark shit out there in the world, why should we deprive ourselves of the few things that feel good?

I sneak up to his room. Quietly, I shed my clothes and burrow under his covers, sitting up against the headboard. I’m buzzing with excitement and lust as I wait for Archer to finish his shower.

Maybe this shouldn’t happen. He should be off-limits. This could make everything a thousand times more complicated than it already is. While I sit and wait, I go through all the reasons why I shouldn’t do this, but despite all of the reasons why this might be a bad idea, I can’t stop wanting it. Wanting him.

There’s plenty of time for me to change my mind, but I don’t. I’m going through with it. If he doesn’t want this, or if he turns me down, obviously I won’t pursue it any further, but I’m going to make my interest very clear.

A few minutes later, the shower shuts off, and my body hums with nervous energy.

I’m doing this.

I haven’t been intimate with anyone besides Reed in years, and even then, the last year has been entirely inactive. The prospect of sleeping with Archer fills me with a newfound energy.

Archer exits the bathroom, his wet hair pushed back and a towel tied low around his hips. He flicks on the lamp beside the bed, and when he sees me sitting here, he sucks in a breath and goes still.

“Tasia…” His eyes roam my bare shoulders. Hunger fills his expression. “What are you doing?”

“Showing you how friends can share a bed,” I tease. My bare collarbone and shoulders peek out from beneath the blanket. That should be enough for Archer to realize what I’m implying. “And…other things.”

He stiffens, clutching the towel tighter. “Don’t play with me,” he growls. “I know you think I’m a nice guy, but even nice guys have limits.”

“I’m not asking you to be nice right now, Archer.” Destroy me, is what I want to say. Wreck me. Make me beg.

He comes closer, but then his footsteps falter. Muscles in one of his cheeks twitch. “This isn’t a good idea.”

“Let me make you feel good,” I whisper. “You deserve it.”

He grips the towel tighter in his fists but then exhales heavily and relents. The towel drops, and my pulse thrums at the sight of him, hard and ready. It sends a tingle of want through me, but I stay put, forcing myself to wait in eager anticipation, to see what he’ll do.

He rips the covers off, then crawls across the bed until he’s hovering above me. My eyes roam the decadent curves and lines of his muscles, taking in the plethora of ink marking his tan body. His fingers reach up, gripping my chin and forcing me to meet his gaze. He leans forward, and for a moment, I think he’s going to kiss me.

“This attraction can’t change anything,” he whispers across my mouth. “Can’t distract us.”

“Won’t it?” I ask weakly. “You want me just as much as I want you.” I reach up, gripping his hardness to prove my point. He groans, and his fingers tighten on my chin.

“Tasia.”

I begin to move my hand, stroking him with purpose. His eyes shut, and he leans his head back, his breathing growing ragged.

“Tell me you don’t want me, and I’ll stop,” I whisper, leaning forward to nibble on his jaw. “Tell me no, and I promise to listen.”

Instead of replying with words, he claims my mouth with his own. The kiss is hungry, passionate, overwhelming. He grabs me by the back of my thighs, tugging me down so my back hits the bed beneath him. Then he leans down on his forearms, caging me in.

My legs spread of their own accord, welcoming him. The head of his length nudges my dampness. I writhe, beckoning him in. He doesn’t move, just hovers there, as if fighting some internal battle.

I know this is dangerous, but I can’t resist. Not when the hard lines of his body press against my soft curves so perfectly. Not when I’ve never felt more alive than I do in this moment.

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