Because there’s another vital element at the base of my pyramid, shoved in right alongside the basic necessities. Something that keeps my lungs pumping and my heart beating just as surely as the water in my glass or the food on my plate. An element I cannot function without — not with any sort of vitality, not in a way that prevents merely scraping along, day by day, enduring the monotony of my own existence with grim perseverance.
Him.
The moment his mouth crashes down on mine, I feel my whole world shift, a seismic click deep inside that snaps my very soul into place. He kisses me, and for the first time in a year, my internal pyramid finds its proper footing. As our arms wind around each other, desperation in every touch, fingers shaky with desire… I realize why I’ve spent the past few months so off balance, so out of sorts.
Archer Reyes is as vital to me as oxygen.
Without him, I cannot transcend to a higher state of happiness or fulfillment. Without him, I’m stuck perpetually at the base of my pyramid, grasping uselessly at everything around me in the hopes that I might fill the void he left behind.
But nothing else can fill it.
No one else can fill it.
A growl rattles in his throat as he kisses me harder, deeper. His tongue in my mouth, his hands in my hair. My bones turn to water, dissolving uselessly beneath his touch, but it doesn’t matter. He’s holding me so tight, I no longer need my knees to support me.
A cry moves in my throat as the kiss intensifies, desire sparking from an ember to a flash fire in a matter of seconds, but the sound gets swallowed up instantly. I press closer, wishing I could disappear into his touch, wishing I could climb under his skin and never come out.
Close isn’t close enough.
I crave more.
I crave everything.
All of him, stripped bare.
His weight.
His hands.
Above me.
Inside me.
Making me whole.
Shattering me to pieces.
“Jo,” he gasps, his mouth finally breaking from mine to drag in oxygen. “God, I need—”
“Me too,” I whisper, barely able to get the words out. My lips are already fusing with his again, my willpower no match for the magnetic force of attraction between us.
I need.
I need.
I need.
My nerves sing with desire as my fingers grip the back of his neck, stroking the wet fabric of his shirt. I’m trembling head to toe against him. The emotions are so strong, there’s no holding them back. They pour out in a torrent, leaking from my eyes in a flood. I can feel tears streaming down my face, mingling with the rain falling down all around us.
We move like two longtime dance partners, our moves so in sync you’d think we choreographed them decades ago. No need for words, our bodies do the talking. Archer’s hands hitch under my thighs at the exact moment my legs wind around his waist. We both moan at the moment of impact. Flush against me, separated only by the damp fabric of his jeans and the whisper-thin material of my underwear, his erection is hard as steel.
Normally I’d be scandalized by just the thought of standing on a street corner with my sundress up around my ass, in plain view for anyone walking by to see. But I can’t think straight. Not with Archer touching me. Holding me. Devouring me with his teeth, his tongue, his lips.
Tightening his hold, he rubs his body against mine, a torturously slow grind, and I nearly come just from the intoxicating buzz of friction. He never pulls his mouth from mine as he walks us slowly up the front steps, onto the porch. I hold his shoulders tighter as he grapples blindly for the door knob and shoves it inward. We stumble across the threshold, still intertwined. And then, before I can blink, we’re up the inner stairs, on his landing, standing before the door to his apartment.
The last time I was here, I smashed a pie on the floor and stormed off.
I’m enjoying this visit more.
Archer presses me against the wall, his weight pinning me in place, as he shoves the key into the lock. The door gives way and so do we — falling inside in a tangle of limbs, landing on the hardwood floor with a thud that knocks the wind from both our lungs.
“So…” I laugh breathlessly, straddling him. “This is your place.”
I see the ghost of a smile, hear the fragment of a chuckle before he flips me over onto my back and rolls on top of me. The door slams with a bang as he kicks it closed with one foot. Bracing one arm on either side of my head, his weight settles between my legs — bone-crushing in the best kind of way, setting off a hollow ache that demands to be sated.
When he tears his mouth from mine, he’s panting hard. I stare up at him, feeling drugged. Dazed by lust and desire. I can barely process the fact that this is happening. All I know is, I don’t want it to stop.
Not now.
Not ever.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” Archer murmurs. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes that shakes me to the core; the hazel of his irises are molten with longing and disbelief, as though he doesn’t quite trust that this is real. That I’m here, in his apartment, in his arms. “I thought I’d never get the chance to touch you again. I thought…”
A tear snakes from my eye, down my cheek. He watches it fall, tracking its path from my jawline down the length of my neck, creating a tiny puddle in the hollow of my throat. His eyes widen fractionally as he spots something. I watch disbelief bloom over his expression before I recognize its trigger-point.
The necklace.
At some point in our frantic tumble, the gold knot worked itself free from where I’d tucked it into the neckline of my dress. Archer’s eyes flicker up to mine for the briefest of seconds as he pushes off me and sits up, creating a bit of breathing room between us. I mourn the press of his body against mine, but I don’t dare say a thing as he reaches out a shaky hand to touch the pendant, moving so slowly you’d think it were made of the most fragile glass. As he takes it in his palm, his knuckles brush the bare skin of my clavicle — perilously close to the top curves of my cleavage — and I fight back a shiver.
“Where—” The word breaks in his throat. His voice is rough, almost hoarse with shock. “Where did you get this? I thought it was lost.”
“I found it in our spot.”
His eyes flash to mine. “The boathouse?”
“You didn’t leave it there?”
He shakes his head. “No, I… I left it on the dock last summer, on your birthday. I wonder how it got into the rafters.”
“Maybe Flora or Miguel found it. Or one of my parents.”
“I’m pretty sure Vincent or Blair would’ve left it to be swallowed up by the tide. They aren’t exactly my biggest fans.”
A faint ember of annoyance flares to life inside me. I sit up, bringing our faces even again. The pendant falls from Archer’s palm, swinging down to rest against my chest. His eyes never shift from it. I stare at his face, trying to work out my sudden brewing anger. Something is bothering me, but I can’t quite put my finger on what.
“Why did you leave it on the docks?”
“Seemed as good a place as any.”
“So you never planned on giving it to me?” I ask, temper flaring. As the fog of lust clears from my head, my annoyance gains clarity. “You never planned on telling me how you felt?”
He’s watching me carefully, now. Perhaps sensing my gathering ire. “No, Jo. I never planned on telling you how I felt.”