Page 32 of A Million To Fall

His jaw ticks. “Then why do you care so much?”

“He’s been my friend for a really long time, Arch, and I just… I worry about him. And Jake obviously does, too.”

“And I’m the only asshole who isn’t worried about Boston, right?”

“No,” I say quickly. “Arch, that’s not at all what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying, Skye?”

“Nothing, Arch. I was just trying to give you an explanation for why it might not be as easy for us to get over Boston’s disappearance, and you immediately accuse me of—”

His face darkens. “I didn’t accuse you of anything. Don’t twist my words.”

I freeze, the heat in his voice making my chest tighten.

“Hey, you guys okay?” someone calls from the living room.

Archer doesn’t look away from me. “We’re good,” he mutters, takes my hand, then leads me upstairs and into his bedroom.

I sit on his bed while he shuts the door behind us.

“I’m sorry, Skye.” He moves to sit next to me, the mattress dipping with his weight. “For being such an insecure little pussy. It’s just, I’ve never felt like this about anyone.”

“It’s okay.” I don’t want to fight with Archer. Especially not today.

He turns to me, hitching a leg up. “Skye, I think I’m in love with you.”

He says it so lightly, so easily.

“I love you, Skye,” he repeats, leaning in.

I, on the other hand, can’t seem to find my voice.

“Skye?” he asks, searching my face. “Do… do you love me?”

Do I?

We’ve been together four months. Shouldn’t I know whether I love him by now?

I hesitate.

Then nod. “Yeah.”

Archer’s face breaks into a wide smile. He crashes his lips to mine. His kiss is deep, urgent, as his hands move to my waist, then up my sides. He maneuvers me onto my back, his weight settling over me.

I kiss him back, relieved that he’s no longer upset, his declaration of love spreading—gooey and warm—through my insides.

His hand slips under my skirt.

“Archer,” I murmur.

He kisses me harder, like he doesn’t hear me, his hand traveling up until it settles between my thighs.

I tense. My heart’s galloping in my chest, but not in a good way.

He finds his way into my underwear. At first, it’s just the brush of his knuckles, then the firm press of fingers against sensitive flesh. My body goes rigid. We’ve obviously made out before, he’s seen my breasts, we’ve even felt each other’s bare skin, but he’s never touched me like this.

There’s more pressure now. A slow, insistent push.