He was wrecked, still open in a way that made something tighten deep in my chest.
My thumb swept the corner of his mouth, catching the shine there and dragging it away, but the movement slowed before it could stop, tracing the curve of his lip.
“Beautiful,” I swore.
He drew in a slow breath, something in his expression softening as it left him.
Slipping his arms around my shoulders, he anchored me in the warmth of his body. “I like you,” he declared.
It made me laugh. “Yeah, baby, I like you too.”
So. Fucking. Much.
14
ARCHIE
Ididn’t think I was supposed to feel thisokay.
That was the part my brain kept circling back to—not the fact that we were just half naked in a library like two people with absolutely no sense of self-preservation, not the fact that he was my boss and I should probably be having a moral crisis about that—but the absence of anything important enough to stop me.
No drop.
Nowhat the hell did you just domoment.
Just this steady, unsettling sense that something had finally… lined up.
Henry had already redressed me.
I hadn’t even registered when he’d done it—just the aftermath. Buttons fastened. Fabric smoothed flat under his hands. My shirt sitting right again, like it had never been disturbed.
My body remembered.
The sound of fabric shifting somewhere near my feet. The quiet drag of something lifted from the floor.
My pants.
He’d gathered them without a word, sliding the fabric up my legs with steady hands, guiding instead of asking—like it didn’t occur to him I might do it myself. Or like he’d already decided I wouldn’t.
Which, to be fair, I wouldn’t have.
My brain had gone completely soft on me. Useless. Just… floating somewhere above my own body, watching instead of participating.
And Henry hadn’t waited for me to catch up.
His hands had done the work for me. Adjusting. Straightening. Making sure everything sat right without rushing through it.
There had been moments where he paused—his mouth brushing against skin that hadn’t been covered yet.
I pushed my glasses up and pressed my thumb and forefinger into the corners of my eyes for a second, trying to force my thoughts into something more coherent.
Not gonna happen.
Not while he was kneeling in front of me, reaching for my shoe, attention fixed on the laces in his hands.
“You don’t have to do that,” I said.
He didn’t look up. “Well, I’m not going to let you do it.”
