Page 91 of Best Wrong Thing

“What?”

“Guys writing their number on your arm?”

Archer laughs and shakes his head. “Are you jealous?”

Yes.

“You don’t need to be. You’re the only guy I’m interested in.” He furrows his brow and plays with my hair. It gets even curlierwhen it’s sweaty. “You were going to tell me something before we were interrupted.”

Why tell him when I can show him? I grab a fistful of his T-shirt, pull his body flush with mine, and slam my mouth over his. I pour every skin-tingling emotion into the long, deep, fierce kiss. My desire. My adoration. My jealousy. My lust. My love. Our tongues and lips move in perfect synch like we are made for each other. I wrap my arms around him and hold him like I never want to let go. Which I don’t. I don’t want the kiss to end either, but it must.

Archer blinks slowly and touches his glistening, swollen lips. “Jacob.”

Did I do something wrong?

“You can kiss me like that again. Right now.”

I do. Every fibre of my body blazes with desire for him. I run one hand over his back, through his T-shirt, but slip the other beneath it and stroke his spine. He grips my shoulders, clinging to me like he’ll collapse if he doesn’t.

When the kiss ends, he rests his forehead against mine. His breathing is hard and ragged. “I’m going to get every guy in here to hit on me if that’s how you’re going to kiss me afterwards. Jealousy is hot on you.” He pecks my lips and releases a nervous laugh, his breath caressing my skin.

What does he have to be nervous about?

He strokes my cheek and jaw. “What were you going to tell me? What have you realised?” His gaze is full of desire but also uncertainty. He trembles in my arms.

“Only good things.” I brush his hair away from his face. I can’t tell if it’s damp from the water he poured over it or sweat from dancing. Probably both.

“Tell me.”

“I need you.”

His smile becomes a little more confident. “I need you too.”

“I want you.” I kiss him. It’s a shadow of the two long kisses we shared, but no less charged with emotion. It replaces the words I wanted to say. The words I need to say.

“I want you too.”

This isn’t the time to be a coward. This is a moment in which I have to put everything on the line. I take a deep breath. “I love you.”

Chapter 22

Archer

“You—?” Had I heard him correctly over the blare of the music? Even though my brain is telling me I misheard, the pitter-patter of my heart tells me I didn’t.

Jacob holds my hands. “I love you and don’t want to hide it anymore. Not from you. Not from anyone.”

Oh. Wow. Jacob loves me? “We need to talk. But not here.”

“Where?”

I tap my finger against my lips. We can’t go to the villa. “The beach. It’ll be quiet at this time. Come on.”

We push our way through the dancing crowd to the exit. The bouncer stamps the back of our hands so we can get back in if we want to. Not likely. Jumbo Centrum buzzes with activity and noise, but once we get to the beach, it’s quieter and darker. We take our shoes and socks off and sit on the sand, with the water lapping at our toes. Moonlight reflects on the ocean, creating glittering peaks of light and troughs of darkness. Out here, the crash of small waves breaking on the shore is deafening.

My heart is still pattering like a heavy rainstorm. I’m breathless, even though we strolled down here, and more than a little giddy. How am I meant to respond? I’ve never been in love. How do I know if what I’m feeling for Jacob is love or simplyinfatuation? How does he know he’s in love with me? Has he ever been in love? For the first time since I met him, the weight of our age gap hits me in full force. I’m only twenty-one. Is that old enough to be in love? But when I think about not being with Jacob, my chest tightens.

“You said we needed to talk.” Jacob’s voice wobbles with uncertainty. Or is it fear?