Page 8 of Sinful Reality

“I said I promise.” Setting one foot on the floor and leaning over the other, she stretches closer and presses a gentle kiss to my lips. “I can’t ignore that this is happening.” Another feather-soft kiss. “But I trust the New York team to do their best. Janiesa is in a better position than Diane ever was because now they have seventeen cases of history to consider and fresh eyes to look the case over. If it’s the same guy, then we know the girls live for the entire year he has them. He doesn’t killthem until the day before the drop. So if Gilbert is half as good as I remember him, we might get her home alive.”

Not unscathed, I think to myself.Not without scars. She’s been with this fucker for sixteen days already. God knows the hell she’s living within.

But I don’t voice my thoughts out loud.

I merely nod and reach around to grab the bottle I set down. “Drink. When was the last time you had water?”

Her cheeks warm, but she looks down and takes my offering. “Plain water? Or water sprinkled with coffee and cream?”

“So, this morning.” I kiss the top of her head and turn away to get my phone. “I’m ordering burritos, because I’m starving. Then I’m taking you to bed, because I’ve had a stressful fucking day and, turns out, so have you.”

“Where’s Cato?” As though this is the first time she’s truly taken stock of her surroundings since getting home, she glances around the room. “Late class?”

“I guess so.” I swipe to my delivery app and hit ‘order again’ on our usual. Our address is already pre-filled, as well as my card details. I add a tip and select faster delivery, then I watch the progress circlespin, spin, spinuntil the order is confirmed. Finally, the phone dings to let me know my credit card has been charged, so I lock the screen and slip the device into my pocket. “You’ll never guess what Fletch basically admitted to tonight while we were leaving the station.”

I glance across to find her focus back on the sheets of paper on the table. The files I moved, now that the laptop is shut.

“Minka? Did you hear me?”

She bends her neck in an entirely unnatural, uncomfortable way, hunching over the files and scanning the information, barely conscious of the fact I speak. “Hmm? I heard you.”

“Fletch and Fifi got married today.” I stalk back to the couch and stare down at her with enough heat,surelyshe feels it. “Fifi’s pregnant and Mia’s thrilled.”

“Yeah?” She flips to another page.

“And the mayor announced on live TV that he was adopting you and that you graciously accepted his invitation to become part of the family.”I crouch and snag the bottle of water that tilts dangerously unlidded on the couch. “He said he loves you, and you love him.”

“Uh-huh.” And another page. “Sunny Skies Daycare.” She snags a pen and circles the new information. “She’s in school now, but she was in daycare last year. I should ask Pax if any of the other girls went to Sunny Skies.”

Fuck.

MINKA

Iwake the next morning and turn in Archer’s arms to look up at his handsome, sleeping face. I press a kiss to his nipple and slip my leg between his, all so I can rest my ear over his heart. Because being with him while he rests, when he’s at his most vulnerable, his lips pouty and thick and his long, long lashes, dark against his cheeks, is where I find the most peace.

It’s in these moments my love for him multiplies.

My heart squeezes and my core tightens. Because when he’s awake, his entire focus is on taking care of me. It’s about making sure I’m happy, making sure I’m safe. It’s about putting food in front of my face and gently patting my ass because he likes to tell me how wonderful I am at everything.

He’s the world’s most passionate hype man, seemingly created just for me, and despite the fact I couldn’t do the same for another human in return, he doesn’t tire of this task he gives himself.

Hewantsto take care of me. And though it took a while for me to adjust from an existence of hyper-independence, I can’t even say I dislike this new world order.

I like when he checks in on my eating habits. I lovewhen he brings me water and stares until I drink it. And I absolutely adore that he cares that I’m happy.

Somehow, my contentment is his contentment.

There are certainly worse ways to live.

I trail my fingertips along his flesh and stroke the tattooed lines of his ribs, pleasure rumbling through my veins because, even while he sleeps, his lips curl into a sweet smile. “Mmm.” He groans, goosebumps sprinting along his bare skin. “Feels good.”

“You awake?” I don’t know what time it is. I can’t even remember what day it is. But I know it’s morning, if only because of the muted light filtering through the curtains at my back. Today is overcast and gray, which probably means snow will come later. But for as long as we’re in this room, in this bed, and no one else gets to encroach, none of that matters nearly as much as my want for this man.

“Archer?”

“Thank god you’re here with me.” Eyes closed, he slips his hand beneath my cami and drags it up, exposing my belly and breasts until my nipples peak from the cold and my toes curl with anticipation. He inches along the mattress, sliding beneath me and humming with pleasure. But it’s not until his tongue touches my flesh that my first sounds of ecstasy escape on a whisper. He tastes my neck. My clavicle. He takes my nipple between his lips and pins me to the bed when I would otherwise bound straight off.

I bite down on the cry that attempts to burst from my lips, crushing my eyes shut when tears spring free and tickle the corners. Then I sigh when he burrows under the covers and draws my panties along my legs. “You were so wiped out last night, I didn’t even have the heart to undress you.” He nips at the top of my thigh and pries my legs open, positioning himself between them and blowing warm air onto my core until my cry turns to a moan. “We went to bed together, but I swear, I felt like I came in here alone.”

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