Sex On The Seats (Love After Midnight Book 4) by Elise Faber (most inspirational books .txt) 📗

Her eyes were soft. “Where do they live now?”

I froze, the warm memories of youth erased by the cold reality of adulthood. “They died a couple of years ago in a sailing accident.”

Her face changed, growing sad, and I hated that my truth had caused that. “Archer,” she murmured.

“It’s okay. My brother is still in LA, and we have each other.”

She inhaled, released it slowly, covering my hand with hers. “I’m glad you two have each other.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

Her thumb brushed over the back of my hand, sending tingles up my arm, warmth toward my heart. “What about your parents?”

“Alive and in Ohio.” She shook her head. “Still spreading plenty of disapproval my way.”

I squeezed her thigh again. “Siblings?”

“Nope.” The P sounded like a pop, her smile not the lovely one from moments before. “Just me to shatter all their dreams.”

“Dominque,” I began.

“No.” She shifted, turned to face me, expression drawn. “I’m Niki to you, remember? I’m not her, not Dominque. Let me be Niki instead—in-instead of—”

Her gaze dropped, but not before I saw the yearning, the glistening of tears in her eyes. The pain and the regret creating grooves by that lush mouth.

“Okay, baby,” I said, nodding. “Okay, Niki. It’s okay.”

She slipped her hand from beneath mine, wiped her eye. “This is your fault,” she muttered.

“Yes,” I agreed.

“I’m in a parking lot after my car was towed, crying over stuff that will never change, stuff that is ancient history.” She sniffed then nudged my hand off her thigh. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter, does it?”

“It matters,” I said. “You matter.”

Still. Her body went statue still then she shook her head, smiled gently. “Had to be a fucking charmer, didn’t you?”

I brushed my finger over her bottom lip. “It’s a gift.”

“Ack.” She shoved me back lightly. “I’ve got to work.”

Finding my feet, I asked, “Tomorrow?”

Her brows dragged together, and she gripped the steering wheel, and I thought for sure she would say no. Then she extended a hand. “Give it.”

Now I frowned. “Give what?”

“Your cell. If I’m going to use that guest parking spot, you need my number, so you can tell me where it is.”

I handed it over.

She plugged her number in but then held it out of reach. “Homemade pasta and Bolognese?”

“If you commit to the night after, I’ll even make a cheesecake.”

She moaned.

My cock twitched.

Then her chocolate eyes came to mine. “You’ve got a deal.” She plunked my cell into my hand, nudged me back a little farther, and reached for the door.

I caught it, bent, wedging it open with my hip.

“What now?” she snapped, though her amusement was tangible.

“This.” I kissed her, long and slow and deep, swallowing her moans, giving her back mine, along with my heart. Though, I supposed that had happened the moment she’d glared up at me at the bar. Eventually, though, I had to release her, had to let her get on with her day. “Tomorrow,” I promised. “And I’ll text you tonight.”

“I might not answer.”

I cupped her cheek. “Then I’ll just text you again. Okay?”

A long moment of quiet, her eyes studying mine, emotions flickering across her expression too quickly for me to decipher, and for a moment, I thought she was going to take everything back, to call an end to this, before we really got going.

Then I saw a thread of determination drift through her chocolate gaze, and my lungs began working again.

“Okay,” she murmured.

Chapter Fourteen

Niki

The text happened, just as he’d promised.

The second text.

Since I’d purposely ignored the first text.

But that second buzz-buzz one hour and twelve minutes after the first—not that I was counting or anything—had me releasing my mouse and picking up my cell.

The first text had been:

Since I know you’re going to ignore this . . .

And that was it.

Just “. . .” and leaving me on the hook for the second half of the sentence while I counted, didn’t count? Did? I sighed. Okay, had counted. I’d gotten markedly little work done because I’d been clocking the minutes passing on that tiny clock in the upper right side of my computer.

Which meant I’d spent the last hour and twelve minutes being absolutely useless.

I quickly unlocked the screen, not wanting to see the preview, wanting to actually click on that green icon with the red bubble at its corner.

Because . . .

Why?

I didn’t even know. I didn’t understand why I’d stayed last night, why I felt this unrelenting urge to spend time with Archer, why I’d stayed that morning, why I was anticipating his text so much, even now.

I was a buoy in the ocean.

Alone, bobbing up and down, not lonely because I spent my life doing my job, and even though it was a job that most people probably didn’t think of, it was still one that was important.

Predicting tsunamis.

Taking down bad guys.

Equal importance, right?

Shaking my head at my idiocy, I decided that I was going to focus less on the why, less on the inevitable end. Instead, I was going to live right now, right in this moment.

Probably stupid.

But . . . I’d spent a lot of my life being smart. I could take some time to be stupid, especially when it involved a man like Archer.

And also, I was tired of being that isolated buoy. I was tired of being alone and distant. I wanted . . . well, perhaps it was time I moved beyond my rules, that I took down the barbed wire. Because . . .

Archer was pretty fucking great.

Even if I still had the niggling in the back of my mind, my parents’ voices and my self-doubt in the collective, telling me it was inevitable that I’d fuck this up.

Maybe—

My cell buzzed again, reminding me I hadn’t read the message.

Which meant it was time to look at the text.

I clicked the green box, tapped his message chain . . .

Burst out laughing.

And you’ll probably ignore this . . .

“Fucker,” I muttered, my fingers flying across the screen.

I happened to say I’d only ignore the first text.

A moment later