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Guilt plagues me. ‘Archer. Wait.’
But he doesn’t.
I run after him and plant myself before him. He stops and looks down at me. His jaw is clenched tight, and a revelation sinks its teeth into my skin.
I wanted him that night. I didn’t turn him away. And he wasn’t the one to conjure my new nickname. He was merely telling his friends about me—bragging about me. I don’t care what Chase said; I like the thought of Archer wanting people to know about us. He’s not ashamed of being with me, and that’s enough.
‘I’m really sorry,’ I blurt. ‘I shouldn’t have thrown that custard on your head. I was just being petty and making everything about me. But I am really, really sorry.’
Even as I say the words, they don’t feel right. I’m not sorry for throwing the custard on his head—in the moment I meant it. And deep down, I want him to brag about how wonderful he thinks I am; not about fingering me.
But if I don’t apologise, he’ll walk away. He’ll walk away forever.
I’ll bring up how I truly feel some other time, but not right now. One wrong word and this moment will fracture.
Archer’s lips twitch at the corners as if he’s suppressing a snarl. ‘You’re not sorry. You’re just saying what I want to hear.’
He tries walking through me, but I shove against his chest.
A small voice whispers in the back of my mind,Let him go,but I push it down.
Somewhere between hating him and now, he’s grown on me. And I don’t want him to leave.
‘I mean it,’ I say. ‘Do you really believe I would have let you touch me if I didn’t want you? I do, I’m just… I’m just scared,’ I finish lamely.
He stares down at me for a long moment. He doesn’t say anything, but his fury seems to pause and he looks at me—like, he really looks at me. I let him; I need him to see my sincerity. And then he looses a breath, wraps an arm around my waist, and pulls me against him. ‘You don’t need to be scared.’
I laugh, suddenly all nerves and awkwardness. ‘Well, I am. I’m so caught up in my own head and whether I’m doing it right that I don’t enjoy it. And that’s not a result of you, by the way,’ I quickly add. ‘I really enjoyed it the other night. But I’m scared of letting go.’
‘It’s normal,’ Archer murmurs. ‘Once you grow more confident, you’ll find your rhythm. Besides, we’re not fucking for a while yet.’
‘We’re not?’
‘Mmm.’ He nips at my earlobe. ‘Your pussy is so tight.’
I laugh shakily. ‘Is that a bad thing?’
‘Definitely not.’ His hand finds its way to my breast and squeezes. ‘I want to feel you clench around my cock.’
Okay. Way too far.
I pull back to look at him. ‘You’re drunk.’
He looks at me through his thumb and index finger. ‘A little.’
I glance around the derelict street. ‘Are you out alone?’
‘Chase joined me for a couple cordials, but—‘ He shrugs. ‘He went home a few hours ago.’ His eyes grow distant as he winds my hair around his palm. ‘I like your hair up like this.’
My mouth goes dry.I’ve never had my hair pulled like that.
He insists on walking me home, but tonight, my local kebab is full of loud, boastful drunkards. It doesn’t usually deter me, but I’m the only girl here, and the way two of the men check me out makes me nervous.
‘I think I’ll just leave it tonight,’ I tell Archer.
‘We’re here now,’ he says, and I follow him to the counter.
As I wait for my order, one of the men sidles up to Archer. He reeks of alcohol-induced confidence, from the way he leans back against the counter and grins at Archer.
