Page 69 of Sunrise Arrows

CHAPTER23

Tinsley

I walk backward,holding Archer’s hands as we leave the movie theater. We’ve just finished the end credit scene of the latest big budget superhero film and left through the side exit, and I’m a little tipsy. The strawberry fields cocktails I had with the dinner they brought to our seats went down far too smoothly and snuck up on me. My cheeks are flushed from the liquor and I feel loose and carefree.

I’m in love with this man. Hopelessly and irrevocably in love with him. He knew exactly what I needed and he made it happen.

“Hey, Superman,” I smile, stepping into him and extending our laced fingers out.

He glances down each direction of the sidewalk and seeing that we’re alone—the only illumination on the street coming from the bank across the alley—he walks me back into the wall and murmurs, “Hi, Shortcake.”

He untangles our hands and brings one to my cheek, the other finding its home at my throat and making my heart jump skip into an Olympic sprint. I’m caged in and can see nothing but him. L.A. is completely shut out.

“Tell me to stop,” he says, leaning down. “Tell me we’ve risked enough tonight.”

We shouldn’t push our luck. But I feel absolutely wicked, the kind of reckless he talks about me turning him into.

“No.”

It’s all he needs.

Archer’s on me, kissing me with a frenzied passion. The lingering taste of the draft beer he nursed through the movie explodes on my tongue in bursts of peppery citrus.

“So sweet.” He groans against my mouth, moving the hand at my cheek to my ponytail. He uses it to tilt my head and further devour me, swallowing my aching moans as I reach up on the tips of my toes in my leather flip flops to get more of him.

He gives my pulse a gentle squeeze and, in direct juxtaposition, moves his hand to roughly palm my breast. I keen into his mouth, offering up my chest for more which he gives.

Against his mouth, I pant and whine his name, crying out when he hikes my leg up on his hip and sinks his hard, jean-covered dick between my thighs.

“Yes,” I breathe, grabbing at his hair, my head thumping against the building’s exterior as he sucks on my neck and humps me to stimulate my clit through my shorts. When he hits it just right, I see stars.

Biting my lip to stop myself from crying out, I see them again, only this time it’s not metaphorically. There’s an actual flash lighting up the alley. Then another and another, all accompanied by shouts of my name.

Archer notices them at the same time as me and goes deathly still. Slowly I bring my leg down and his hand comes up from my breast to shield my face in his chest as he angles his body to block all possible view of me.

“How did they know I was here?” I worry, hands going into the front pockets of his jeans.

“The girls in the theater,” he answers with restrained anger.

The whole time we’d been in the theater, I’d been anonymous. It was only when the lights came back on that I was recognized by a group of college-aged girls. They were incredibly polite when approaching us, making it easy and enjoyable to pose with them for pictures before we left. I’m so stupid.

“Oh my God.”

Still tucked over me as questions rain like fire around us and the flashbulbs of cameras arch through the dark like strobe lights, he assures me, “I’ll keep you safe, Tinsley.”

I nod my head several times, trying to block out the things they’re saying, and one finger at a time, I release the grip I have on Archer’s pockets. With his shoulder up by my profile, he removes his cap from my head and tugs my ponytail free. My hair falls forward and he puts the worn black hat back on me and bends the brim to obscure my face as much as possible.

He laces his fingers through mine, kissing my knuckles, and with his body turned more toward me than the street, he tucks me into him and takes off with a purposeful stride, my much shorter legs having to trot to keep up.

For being caught dry humping in an alley, Archer’s surprisingly calm and focused. It’s me who’s in turmoil. My head’s already spinning at the pictures and videos that have no doubt started to flood the internet and social media.

Stupid. I was so, so stupid for doing this. We should have just gotten in the truck and gone home.

They won’t leave us alone and with every step we take they get closer, closing in on us, the flash of the cameras a constant now that has blinded me to anything more than what’s a scarce few inches directly right in front of my face.

It’s only made worse when they can’t get anything out of me—not even a clear shot from how thoroughly Archer’s keeping me covered—and turn their questions on him.

“You enjoying your fifteen minutes at her side?”

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