Page 78 of Dead Vengeance

His eyes fly to my fist, tightening on his leather. “Uh. Life’s… um. Complicated.”

My hand tightens, and he watches closely. “It is, yeah.”

“Um…” The pulse throbbing in his neck… “So. In life, sometimes… you have to…”

I run my fingers down the shaft just as gratuitously as I can. “What do you have to do?”

“You have to…”

I stroke back up, then scrunch my fingers so tight into the leather it makes an obscene sound.

“You only… live once… so… if there’s something you want…”

My heart is beating so fucking hard right now. “So, if there’s something I want…” I breathe.

“Yeah,” he rasps.

I lock eyes with him. “Then I should go for it?”

His long eyelashes tremble, slightly and briefly. Then, clear as day, he replies, “I think you should go for it.”

I lunge for him. His lips meet mine just as eagerly as I throw myself at him, and it’s like all the tension of the past two days slips out of my body and into him. His tongue lashing across mine rips new energy, new life into me. This kiss is… It’s electric. It’s…

Archer snaps back, breaking the kiss, and the gasp he takes in seems to steal all the air from the car.

My heart stops—pounds to one explosive end in my chest.

I did wrong. I did the wrong thing. I was so sure… “I’m sorry.”

His dark eyes search mine in the meagre light of the foggy night, and I realise I’m too close, frozen in this tiny space, leering over him. By instinct, I reel back, desperate to get away and out of here.

But he catches my wrist. And he utters only, “Liam…”

Then his lips press mine, and his arms come around me, and fucking hell. It’s on. It’s on. This is really happening.

The second kiss is more intense than the last. He edges forward, and I lean into his arms as they tighten around me, as the smell of his cologne comes heady and the right kind of overwhelming. Realising how hard I’m leaning on that gear stick, still grasping it tight, I shift my hand to his knee.

If this is a one-night thing, if this is the only chance I’m going to get, I’m going to enjoy him. And if there’s a possibility of more? Let’s just say, I’m going to make sure I get asked to do that overtime.

My hand is on his knee for all of two seconds before I slip it to his inner thigh, wrapping fingers tight across the muscle, sinking them deep. A little moan ekes out of him, straight into my mouth, and I devour it.

Fuck, the way I’m going to devour more than that.

But this car is so bloody tiny. The roof is so low, and how the hell am I supposed to do anything?

Needs must.

Refusing to break the kiss, twisting in his arms, I climb on top of him, throwing my knee over his.

“Recline it,” I beg against his lips.

He slams a hand down the side of his seat, and I hear it thumping around, searching. The chair creaks, and in one quick movement, it slides back… roughly an inch.

“More!” I insist, easing my leg over his, head pressing into the roof, but determined to do this, his kisses coming just as desperate as mine, the taste of him all coffee and wealth and Archer. Handsome, gorgeous Archer, mine, if only for tonight.

But to my horror, he replies, “That’s it.” Apology thick in his voice, he adds, “It’s an old model. They don’t really recline.”

It’s a whine—an actual whine—that escapes me.