But something more meant choosing herself for once, and she’d spent too many years choosing everyone else to know how.
The guys drifted down the hall, passing her and Archer as if they’d stepped into that bubble that held them apart from the rest.
When they were alone, she lifted her stare to his. The tendon in the crease of his jaw jumped, but he didn’t speak.
His stare said it all.
Come with me.
Without a word, he turned and started down the hallway, and she paused only a heartbeat before following him. They turned one corner, and another. They passed the common room and the gym. O and Townie were already racking weights for a lifting session.
Her stare stayed fixed on Archer’s muscled back, the carved lines straining his shirt and making her fingers twitch to feel them move beneath her hands.
Tonight. She was leaving tonight.
She should be thinking about her siblings and getting back to her life. Instead, all she could think about was the heat Archer’s touch left behind.
He reached his bedroom door and pushed it open, stopping just inside his room.
She had a strange feeling that whatever step they were about to take might feel like a freefall for both of them.
Reaching out, she traced her fingertip along the jagged runic letters on his forearm. “What does this say?”
“It says Sierra.” His jaw flexed again. “The name of the team.”
She ran her fingertip over the glyph-style lettering. “You tattooed your team on yourself?”
“Before I even got here.”
“Cocky.” She smiled up into his eyes.
“Committed.”
In a blink, he grabbed her by the waist and yanked her against him even as he shut the door and whirled her back to it.
She gasped into his mouth, and he fed her his tongue in a heated stroke. Her knees buckled, and she clung to his broad shoulders, her body already rocking into him, craving him.
He tore from the kiss, chest heaving. “You’re leaving tonight.”
The words came out rough, almost angry. But the look in his eyes held something far more dangerous than anger.
Want.
“That’s what I heard too.”
“Jolie—”
She didn’t let him finish, didn’t let him say any of the things she wasn’t sure wouldn’t haunt her after she was gone.
She gripped his shirt, dragging him forward as her lips found his again. He ran his hands from her waist to her hips and lifted her. Her back hit the door with a solid thud, but she barely registered it under the rush of heat pulsing in her core.
She wrapped her legs around him, yanking him closer, locking him to her as their mouths met in urgent passes. Confusion warred with passion—she wanted to go home to her family, but she was beginning to see she wanted more.
He ripped his mouth away again, raking his stubble down her throat and making her gasp as he licked a path to her collarbone. “Thought you wanted out of here,” he muttered against her skin.
“Not yet.” She lifted his head to kiss him again, deeper this time and more intense.
She worked at his shirt, careful of the bandages across his side as she bunched the fabric and shoved it up, needing to feel the velvet steel of him one more time.
