Page 109 of Dead Vengeance

Words I’ve been wishing he’d say since I set foot in the door.

thirty-two

Like Only A Necromancer Can...

Archer

For what it’s worth, whenever I picture you, you’re wearing that apron…

With those words, infatuation turns to obsession.

It rings in my ears as Liam steps closer—near enough for me to catch him by the hip and wrench him against me. I don’t waste another second taking his lips with mine, declaring the adoration for him that’s been building since the moment we met, that was compounded a thousandfold in the car that night, that drove me to near breaking point when I thought I’d lost him.

He drops the diamonds on the table and closes his fingers around the hem of my sweater.

Not enough. I want more. I need more.

I need Liam to never walk out of here like that again. I need to know he trusts me. I need to know I’ve earned him back. That he’s mine.

Mine.

How desperately I’d love to believe that. That he wants me as much as I want him. All of me, that comes along with all the broken parts. The death and the life, the supernatural complications, the never knowing what tomorrow’s going to hold or if I’ll survive any of this. The me that just wants to be normal. Who just wants to date this beautiful man, who’s here, now, in my office, kissing me like he’s as sad this ever happened as I am.

“I’m sorry I got scared,” he says. “I won’t get scared again.”

My heart cracks. Cracks wide open, and Liam pours into it. Fills it up. Spreads out and seals the edges. Makes his home there in the space.

“Stay with me,” I whisper. “Don’t go home. Stay with me tonight.”

He stares up at me with those big brown eyes. “I can’t stay tonight.” His fingers move to my collar, pulling at my top. “But I can stay all day long. And I’ll come back tomorrow. And the next day, and the next. If that’s all right with you?”

Of course he can’t stay. He has to take care of his mother. And it only makes me adore him even more. “That’s so all right, Liam. That’s so perfect.”

He feels too good beneath my hands, grasping at the thick material of his overalls. I want so badly to rip them off him. He tastes too good when his lips part for me, when I drag my tongue over his, when he meets mine with the most delicious resistance.

I should stop. Should almost definitely stop because this is a lot for someone to take in. Prospective boyfriend is a necromancer. Prospective boyfriend accepts stolen goods as payment for getting revenge for dead people. Prospective boyfriend got him into so much life-or-death trouble.

But Liam’s not stopping. He’s pulling my top up, warm fingers on my bare skin, pressing me back against the desk. Taking control, just like he did in the car.

Flashes of that night hit me, the way his brow creased when he was close, the sound of his breath, the feel of his big dick in my palm. And mine’s already hard.

His kisses grow more eager, his hand circling my waistband. I can’t tell if he’s asking for permission or toying with me. But these pants are thin, and I can’t hide anything from him if he takes a step back and looks down.

I don’t know if it’s that concern or the fact that he tastes like coffee, but my arm snakes around his neck, my fingers in his hair as I pull him against me.

“Archer,” he growls out.

The tone of his voice does things to me. Takes away any chance I ever had of hiding this erection from him, especially when he reaches down, when his hands dig into my thighs and he lifts me onto the desk.

Fucking hell.

I thought I’d blown this, and here I am, less than twenty-four hours later, living the actual dream. Liam between my legs, kissing me. Liam, taking a hold of my dick through my pants and, “Fuck, Liam…”

“I’m sorry we fought,” he rasps between kisses, stroking my cock.

I half laugh, half gasp at the feeling of him. “We didn’t fight. Liam, no…”

“I’m sorry I left.”