Page 5 of Best Wrong Thing

“Nor do I.”

“Good answer. I like you more and more. Do me another favour.”

“Anything.”

“Keep sitting there looking broody and sexy.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

He rakes his teeth over his bottom lip and stands. He stares at me a moment longer, then moves away to take an order.

I sit upright and roll my shoulders back, puffing my chest like a preening peacock.

He thinks I’m sexy? Not as sexy as he is. His tight jeans hug his thighs and pert arse. Does he play sports or go to the gym?I’d love a rain cloud to appear above his head, drenching him so his white T-shirt clings to his wide, sloping shoulders, and broad chest.

After an hour, he disappears into the back but returns through a door to the right of the bar, wearing a cream hoodie top with black vertical stripes.

He perches on the stool beside me and rests his elbow and forearm on the bar. “Still up for sex?”

“Yes.”

His gaze flits to my drinks. My beer is flat. The salt has flaked off the rim of the shot glass.

“Sorry about your drinks.”

“I’m not. Do you have a place close by?”

“I live in a flat on the edge of town near the inner ring road. It’s within walking distance.”

I nod and follow him out the door. It’s quiet outside, the lull between the after-work rush and nightclubs opening.

He walks backwards. “Do you make a habit of chatting up bartenders?”

“No. Do you make a habit of chatting up customers?”

He laughs. “No. But you’re cute. And I have a thing for broody guys. Besides, I’ll have fun helping you forget your troubles. Sure you don’t want to talk about them?”

I shake my head. “I just want to fuck.”

“Fair enough.”

He walks forward, forcing me to stop, puts his hands around my waist, and kisses me. I close my eyes and relax into the long, needy kiss, exploring his mouth. His lips are firm, his tongue playful, his breath fresh and minty. Mine’s probably laced with coffee—I drink far too much at work—and beer. My body tingles with desire. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and pull him hard against me. My pulse increases. Blood rushes to my cock. My underwear and trousers are suddenly too restrictive.

He breaks the kiss, nips his bottom lip between his teeth, and rests his forehead against mine. “That was nice.”

“Very. How far did you say your flat was?” My voice is husky.

“Not far.” He laces his fingers through mine and leads me through Leeds, his pace quick.

Chapter 2

Archer

I kick my front door shut, hook my finger into the top of Jacob’s tie, and pull the knot down. I lean close and drop my voice to a husky whisper. “I’m so glad you came home with me tonight.” I slam my mouth over his.

He slides his hands into the back pockets of my jeans and squeezes my arse. I whimper against his lips and suck on his tongue. He tugs me close so our bodies are aligned, and the hard curve of his dick presses against my thigh. Fuck, he’s hot in a sweet, awkward, slightly unsure way. I run my fingers through his messy, wavy hair, which is several shades darker than mine. His stubble scrapes against my chin. Will I end up with beard rash as a badge of honour of our encounter?

He gasps and tears his lips from mine. “Bedroom.”