He laughed, and the sound went straight through me. “Okay. Fair. We’re both terrible.”
But we kept moving anyway, and somewhere between arguing about who was worse, something shifted. His hand spread wider across my back, pulling me incrementally closer. Mine slid from his shoulder to his neck, fingers brushing the hair at his nape. Our faces were close enough now that I could see the darker ring around his gray eyes, and could feel his breath warm against my temple.
“Gianna.” My name came out rougher this time.
I looked up at him. His expression had changed—still warm but with something hungry underneath. Something that matched the heat building low in my stomach.
“Yeah?”
“Can I kiss you?”
I wanted to consider the consequences. To remember I was leaving tomorrow and this was a stranger whose last name I didn’t even know.
Instead, I said, “Yeah, yeah.”
He kissed me.
Slow at first. Careful. Like he was learning what I liked. Then I made a sound low in my throat and his control snapped. His hand slid into my hair, tilting my head back as he deepened the kiss, and I pulled him closer, needing more. We stumbled backward, still kissing, until I hit the terrace wall. His body pressed against mine, solid and warm, and I forgot how to think.
“Inside,” I managed against his mouth.
“You sure?”
I answered by grabbing his jacket and pulling him toward the door.
We barely made it into his room. His jacket hit the floor. My dress unzipped with hands that shook slightly—not from nerves but from wanting. We crashed onto the bed, and I let myself have this. Let myself want something just because I wanted it.
The pleasure built slowly, then all at once, crashing over me in waves that left me breathless. When it was over, when we lay tangled in sheets that smelled like expensive hotels and sex, I felt more like myself than I had in seven years.
Archie traced lazy patterns on my shoulder, neither of us speaking. What was there to say? This was already more than it should have been.
“I don’t want this to end,” he said finally, his voice rough.
I closed my eyes. “It has to. I’m leaving tomorrow.”
“Stay.”
“I can’t.” I turned to look at him. “This was perfect because it exists outside everything else. Let’s not ruin it.”
He pulled me closer after that, and we fell asleep like that—my head on his chest, his arm around me, both of us pretending tomorrow wasn’t coming.
When I woke hours later, dawn bled through the windows. I dressed quietly, gathering my clothes from where they’d fallen. Archie stirred but didn’t wake, and I was grateful—too much of me wasn’t ready to see his eyes again.
At the door, I paused. He lay tangled in the wrecked sheets, dark hair a mess against white pillows, one arm reaching toward the space where I’d been. Something in my chest tightened, sharp and unwelcome.
I slipped out and eased the door shut behind me.
In the hallway, I pressed my back to the wall and exhaled, trying to steady the sudden ache in my ribs. Some moments were meant to stay untouched. Clean. Honest. Turning them into anything else would only break them.
That’s what I told myself, anyway.
I pushed off the wall and walked toward the elevator, refusing to look back—because I already knew if I did, I wouldn’t leave at all.
CHAPTER 1
Gianna
My mother was tryingto kill me with kindness—one heaping plate ofarroz con polloat a time.
