Page 156 of Dead Vengeance

“Liam,” he whispers. He climbs on top of me, his thighs pressing mine back, forcing my legs wide apart. He presses his cock against me, the weight and heat of him so enticing I can barely control myself. Then his hand stills on my cheek. The way his eyes burn into me, drink me in, it’s… It’s too tender. Too much care. So much melancholy. It’s almost like… a goodbye.

“Please,” I beg him, writhing against him, fingers deep in the flesh of his beautiful shoulders. “Please. Even if it’s only tonight. Please make it feel like forever.”

“Oh, Liam.” His hand slips beneath my neck as he takes a hold of my shoulder and presses forward, his forehead falling against mine. I want to scream as he fills me up. The fullness of him, the intensity of his hold on me, the ecstasy, but also… I can feel myself pressing into him. It’s double the pleasure—it’s too much pleasure. And every bit of it is augmented by this strange sadness in him that I can’t put my finger on. The way he’s already fucking me—like he cannot get enough of me, like he can’t get close enough, and I’m scrambling to keep from falling apart.

“Archer.” His fingers sink into my hair, his kisses coming so passionate and loving. And it might be the stupidest thing I’ve ever said, but, “I’ll see you tomorrow, won’t I?”

Another kiss, more adoring than the last, and his forehead back against mine as he promises me, “Yes. Tomorrow. I’m going to be back tomorrow. With you. And every day.”

“Every day?” My whole being arches as he takes me, sinks into me, over and over, kisses never erring, the intensity building with every whisper of promise.

“Every day, honey. You and me. I don’t ever want to go a day without seeing you.”

It’s all I want. He doesn’t have to say it. The words that are right on the edge of my lips. But I can’t. I won’t. I’ll swallow them down and do my best not to scare him away. I’ll take this. This is more than enough.

Tomorrow. Every day. Me and Archer. Every day.

Gently, almost too gently, he takes my hands, reaches them over my head, and holds them there. His grip turns firm. He sinks his fingers between mine, and when I close my hands against his, I feel all the strength he’s been holding back. His muscles coil as he leans out long. He hurts me just right with the way he’s holding me. And I beg him, “Make me feel it, Archer. Please. Show me.”

He withdraws, slowly, just far enough to let me feel the loss of him.

Then Archer lets loose.

He slams back into me, and holy fuck, if I thought he was filling me up before, I had no idea. He’s like a sex god come to life, and whatever soft part of him was repressing this, he’s out now, free and with me, and he’s losing control.

I cry out, scream his name, and I don’t care how thin these walls are. I want all the world, every ghost in London, to know he’s mine. Archer’s all mine, and he’s losing control.

He fucks me like it’s the last time; he bathes me in kisses, bites my chest so hard it will bruise, and I’m proud of it. I wish I could show everyone. He holds me close against him, his body relentless and perfect, on and on until I’m a begging, spent mess of a man. Until I can’t take another minute of it, this being fucked, fucking him, this tangle of emotion, this strung out, riled up, knot of a person who has needed this for so long, but never once knew how much I did. That I needed him all along. But even then, he keeps going. Keeps wrecking me, pulling me apart, destroys me utterly. And it all comes to one enormous, delicious, almost perfect climax when his body shudders, when his lips lean close to mine, when he looks deep into my eyes and says, “Liam, I…”

I know what he wants to say. It’s everything I feel. But he’s stopped, right there on the edge.

It’s too soon. Too terrifying, dangerous, and close to risking this thing neither of us dares to lose. Even if it’s true. Even if we both know it.

I thrust my hips forward, smashing him into me, pulling him as close as I ever can. He gasps out my name, fingers in my flesh, and he spills. It’s as if I don’t even have a choice. My body is so in tune with his, like we’re the same being. The orgasm rips out of me, and I feel his. It’s both of us, it’s more, and it’s utterly flooring, draining, restorative, beautiful, catastrophic. It’s a wonderful, terrifying, incredible mess. It’s everything. It’s perfect.

He holds me like that. Holds me there for so long, kissing me. And I never want him to stop. But finally, he slides down beside me, and I roll over to hold him, to kiss him. To not even let him speak.

He already said it, without words.

And I hope I did too.

Archer. My beautiful Archer. The one who completes me, when I hadn’t even realised how much of me was missing.

forty-three

Our Last Goodbye

Archer

Liam and I have been here together for hours. He climbed out of bed just long enough to retrieve the pizza from the front door, and he hasn’t left my side since. We ate in bed, then just lay here talking.

It’s been a special sort of torture. This is all I want. Truly, in the whole world, this is it. Liam. Companionship, from him and him alone. A happy life with the man I… have very strong and unnamed feelings for.

Feelings that I almost spilled in the heat of things. Words on the tip of my tongue that probably would have terrified him had I told him the truth of it.

With Liam, everything is so perfect. I feel so complete, like the outside world doesn’t matter. Like tomorrow we’ll wake up and find ourselves in that same perfect secret place we make together. This shield from the world that’s just the two of us, whether it’s my car, a tiny shower, or here in his bed. It’s anywhere that it’s just the two of us.

But even now, still safe in his arms, reality buzzes somewhere in the background.