Page 52 of Fragile Lives

The shelf is practically on the floor, so I bend over to check the titles.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” comes a low, growly voice behind me.

I slowly rise and turn around. Archie stands behind me, a piece of wood in his hand. I bet he was ready to feed the fire as I decided to grab a book.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” I look down at myself. I don’t know what got his panties in a twist. I’m wearing a big hoodie over a cami and shorts.

“This freakin’ thing.” He points at my shorts.

“This?” I look down again, just to make sure I’m not standing here in my underwear. “They are shorts.”

“They’re not!” His neck reddens a little as he grips the firewood tighter.

“They are,” I repeat stubbornly, blood boiling at his stupid antics.

“Don’t you have normal pants or something?”

“They’re shorts!”

“They’re fucking panties; they don’t even cover your ass.”

“Don’t look at my ass,” I nearly hiss, mad at him for being a hypocrite as he walks around, assets on full display.

“I can’t not look,” he takes two steps forward, now standing right in front of me, “when you’re flaunting it right into my face.”

“My ass was very far from your face. Maybe you’re just having ahardtime staying away?” I take a step toward him, and now we’re a foot apart. I’m expecting a joke, but his eyes darken as he leans closer.

“Maybe I am.” His voice is a low grumble. And promising. Very promising.

“Is it really thathard?” I ask on an exhale.

“Very.” He swallows. “Very hard.”

“Then don’t.” I move, so we are flush against each other. “Don’t stay away.”

His face drops to mine, and he takes a deep breath. His mouth falls open like he’s enjoying the scent, and his lips land on my temple.

“Your skin is so soft.”

“Yeah” is all I can manage; I’m too focused on the anticipation of his next move. Archie is unpredictable. And I love that.

He gives my temple another gentle kiss and goes to step backward when I grab his shirt and lift to my tippytoes.

“Stop pussying around,” I whisper into his mouth. “We both know we’re gonna end up fucking here like rabbits. Why waste time?”

He pulls his head back and looks into my eyes. Reallylooks. Deep. Searching for something that will determine the course of the next few days.

“It would be a shame to waste it,” he finally says. His voice sounds predatory. Forewarning. Mouthwatering.

“We shouldn’t,” I agree quickly; I’ve been dreaming about this since the moment I met him—the mysterious, dangerous man on the bridge that night.

His face stretches in the broad grin of a cat who just ate the canary. Taking off his shirt, he drops it to the floor. My eyes move up his body, taking in his gray sweats that hide nothing, up to his tattooed chest and the dog tags he keeps on.

His smile turns wicked, and he lunges at me.

Chapter Fifteen

ARCHIE