Page 27 of Shots Fired

Her eyes track to my dash and then to me.

“You realize it’s not cold?” She giggles.

She’s nervous—I can tell, although I’m not surprised. I know from talking with Jack and overhearing conversations on nights out between her, Kendra, and Jenna—which I likely,definitely, shouldn’t have been eavesdropping on—that tonight, I’ll be only the second guy she’s been with.

Darcy isn’t the only one nervous. I’m officially shitting myself. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve been in this position—a smokeshow sitting in my passenger seat, waiting for me to take her home. This isn’t just any girl though, and tonight isn’t like any other I’ve shared. Darcy was right when she said the stakes are higher than the average hookup.

But what she doesn’t seem to realize is, for me, there isn’t a chance in hell I’d fuck her and then tell her to leave. The fact that she even asked me not to do that tore me in two.

Tonight is way more than just a fuck to me. I thought I’d made my intentions clear when I pinned her up against the wall in Jack and Kendra’s apartment.

Jesus. I never want to hear the wordplayboyfall from her lips again.

I grin playfully. “I use my heated seats throughout the year. No one likes a cold ass.”

She rolls her eyes at me, cheeks pinkening with flirtation.

It’s all the invite I need as I lean across the center section of my Mercedes and palm the back of her head, pulling her toward me.

“You’ve got no fucking idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.”

On a crimson flush that descends her chest, I brush my lips over hers. Darcy’s eyes flutter closed, but I keep mine open, burning the visual into my brain.

Another pass of my lips, and she opens her eyes, fixing them on the door she just walked through.

“Anyone could come through there unannounced.”

“Mmhmm,” I hum into her mouth. “I probably should care, but I really don’t give a fuck.”

She giggles again at that, doing things to my heart rate. After tonight, I’ve got no idea how hard I’ll have to work to get her into my bed again, and I intend to savor every last noise she makes for me.

“Well, I think it’s best if we get out of here.”

She moves away, but I pull her back into me.

“You’re right. If we stay here a second longer, doing this, I’m going to take you in my car, and that’s the opposite of how I pictured us together. I want this to be perfect for you.”

Her eyes sparkle with mischief. “It’s just sex, Archer. Or respectful fucking, if you will.”

I shake my head at her, forcing another fake grin. I hate that she thinks it’s only sex to me.

I lean into her, smoothing my hand along her left knee, and her soft skin pebbles beneath my touch.

“I dare you to say that again in the morning.”

“Come here.” I flip my hand toward me as we ride the private elevator to my penthouse.

In her pink designer heels, she takes a step forward, and I clamp my hands on her waist, spinning her around so she’s against the railing.

Baby-blue eyes peer up at me as she rests a hand on my forearm, her other holding the Saint Laurent tote bag by her side.

With my spare hand, I reach down and take the bag, hooking it over my shoulder. We’re inches—no, centimeters—apart, and Darcy’s sweet breath and perfume wash over me in waves.

“You’re really intense—you know that?” she repeats her previous observation and swallows thickly, gaze dropping to my mouth. “When I imagined …” She trails off, and frustration curls inside me.

“Finish your sentence, Darcy. What were you imagining?”

Her eyes widen, and I suspect that’s exactly how they’ll look when I slide inside her later. I can wait for that though, sensingthis is a first glimpse into whatever fantasies she might’ve had about us.

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