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

mouth to call out to him, but Lucas, apparently, lifted a hand, shook his head.

“Hey fuck head!” Archer called. “You made me carry these bags all the way home without helping, so the least you can do is come out here and put them away.”

I blinked.

Lucas just shook his head again.

Archer’s voice came closer. “Where are—What the fuck are you doing in my studi . . . oh?”

My heart did a tiny somersault, thrusting itself against my rib cage.

No bruises or obvious injuries. No blood or gore.

Just two full arms of groceries.

“Niki?” he said.

I nodded.

“You know her?” Lucas asked, and when Archer nodded, added, “Then you should probably know that she was breaking into your apartment, and I caught her.”

Archer’s gaze came to mine, some emotion in the hazel depths that I couldn’t decipher. Was it disappointment? Disgust that I’d violated his space by breaking in? All my security skills didn’t seem quite so useful now. “But you didn’t actually stop the would-be burglar,” he said dryly, his eyes never leaving mine.

“Well, I didn’t actually know for certain that she was a burglar.” A shrug. “So, I decided to keep an eye on her, just in case.”

Archer sighed, held my stare for another heartbeat before turning away.

He disappeared.

I’d be lying if I said my stomach didn’t return for another round on that roller coaster, looping this way and that, swooping and dipping, and generally making me nauseated.

My fingers clenched around the lockpicks; that sick feeling made its way from my stomach, up my throat, burning as it traveled. “I—”

One more shake of Lucas’s head.

And . . .

I lost it.

Who the fuck was this man to shake his head at me, to lift his hand, and to just expect me to fall silent? Fuck that!

I’d given him too much power over me because I was disoriented, standing on a shifting dune of sand, slipping this way and that as I waited to get a handle on the situation.

Well, I needed to stop waiting.

I needed . . . I took a step forward, and the cocky bastard started to raise his hand again, and . . .

I snapped.

With a sharp sigh, I shoved the tools in my pocket and pushed past him, knocking him back a pace when he moved to intercept me.

One hand grabbed my arm, his other snagged the lockpicking paraphernalia out of my pocket. “Wait—”

“Let go,” I growled, yanking out of his grip, snagging the tools back. I whirled forward and . . . plowing straight into Archer’s chest. “Oof!”

Warm arms wrapped around me, steadied me at the same time I was pressed to all the yummy strength of his body, his scent covering me like a blanket, making me feel like I was home. For one brief second.

Because.

Then I remembered the look on his face.

“You said to come over, so I did. And then I called and knocked,” I explained. “But nobody answered—”

“That tends to happen when someone isn’t home,” Lucas pointed out.

“Shut up,” Archer barked.

“So then I was there, outside the door, after I’d called and knocked, and I got worried that something had happened, and you were inside hurt.” I bit my lip. “So, I called and knocked again. And then . . .”

“You decided to break in,” Lucas said.

“I said, shut up,” Archer gritted, his arms tightening around me for a moment before he slowly drew me away from his chest, wincing when the lockpicking tools jabbed him in the chest. Pausing, he snagged them from my limp fingers and slipped them into his pocket. Then he drew me close again. I didn’t want to go, feeling strangely vulnerable, wanting to hide against him forever, lest he see too much. That he’d see what I felt for him eclipsed anything I’d ever felt for anyone.

As in, ever.

Archer’s palm came to my cheek, the rough callouses the sweetest abrasion. “You were worried.”

I swallowed. Hard. Nodded.

“So, you broke in?”

Another swallow. Another nod.

Emotion in his eyes, and then his arms banded tightly around me again. “Fuck, Niki. You’re killing me,” he whispered. “I was just hoping to convince you to let me take care of you, to coax you into spending as much time with me as physically possible.” His arms got a little tighter. “I didn’t think you’d . . . well, I hoped, but I thought it would take time for you to want to take care of me back.”

“You’re not mad I broke in?”

He leaned back again. His lips curved. “God no. I’ll give you a spare key,” he said. “Come and go whenever you want.”

My lungs stuttered, breath sliding in and out.

“Okay?” he asked.

I bit my lip, released it. “Okay,” I murmured. “I can give you one, too.” My mouth turned up. “I know that I can get distracted while I work.”

He grinned, ran his knuckles over my cheek. “I noticed that.”

A flash of something . . . of guilt? Through his eyes. “What?” I asked.

Archer shifted, reaching into his pocket and pulling out . . . my spare key. “I borrowed this.” He shrugged, his expression going chagrined. “I was going to return it . . . okay, no, I was going to hold on to it.” He smiled. “I figured if you got mad, I’d just bribe you with food, and—”

Laughter bubbled up inside me, and I closed his fingers around the key. “Keep it.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

His smile stole my breath, and I didn’t get it back because then his mouth was slanting across mine, his tongue slipping inside, his body against me, his arms wrapped tight, and I lost myself in the kiss, in the scent of him.

At least until there was a loud noise breaking in on my bliss.

A throat clearing.

Archer released me with a curse, tucked me against his side, and turned to glare at Lucas.

“I think it’s time for you to introduce me to the woman you’re sucking face with,” he said, his hazel eyes dancing.

Hazel eyes.

Hazel eyes.

Fucking hell. If my arms weren’t pinned against Archer’s body, I would have