“No, I hate physical affection after mind-blowing sex. Get away from me.”
He huffs, and I feel some of the tension leave his body.
“That was almost as good as the Destroyer,” I say as I settle into his arms, and he laughs.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Leo
I can’t stop touching Archie.
I’ve never been an after-sex cuddler, but right now, I can’t help it. I can’t help stroking my hand over the curve of his shoulder, the jut of his hip bone, the soft skin of his thigh. He’s practically melted into me, boneless and pliant in a way I’ve never seen him.
This is a man who never stops moving. Who vibrates with chaotic energy every waking moment. And right now, he’s still and quiet. His cheek is pressed against my chest, his breath warm and even against my skin.
Archie Mansley, sated and satisfied.
He makes a contented humming sound, like a cat who’s found the perfect patch of sunlight.
My heart flutters. I press my lips against the top of his head before I can stop myself.
And that’s when it hits me. Not the wanting—I’ve made my peace with how much I want Archie Mansley—it’s the tenderness that terrifies me.
Fuck.
He’s still Vaughn Mansley’s little brother. Nothing changes that fact.
This started with me acting on an impulse to get revenge on Vaughn, whom I set out to embarrass, only to injure his brother’s ankle.
And now I’m in bed with that brother. Postcoital. Cuddling.
Revenge has definitely taken some unexpected turns.
I need to tell Archie the truth.
The thought surfaces unbidden, unwelcome. I should tell him that the night we met wasn’t an accident and that every moment since has been built on a foundation of deception.
But how do I even begin that conversation? “Hey, Archie, great sex. By the way, I originally planned to humiliate your brother and accidentally maimed you instead.”
The problem is, there’s no version of this confession that doesn’t end with Archie pulling away. And I’ve gotten addicted to him edging closer.
Archie has trust issues. I’ve seen the way he deflects personal questions, keeps people at arm’s length, and hides his real self behind layers of charm and chaos. It’s taken weeks for him to let me see glimpses of who he actually is.
If I tell him the truth now, those walls go right back up, and they’ll probably be higher than before.
However, not telling him is selfish and dishonest. It’s everything I pride myself on not being.
But this was a one-off thing, wasn’t it? Just a release of the sexual tension between us.
And if I tell him now, it will screw up this fake-relationship thing, wouldn’t it? And it’s important to Archie that Elizabeth believes he’s in a good relationship and stops worrying about him.
There’s no way Archie could continue to pretend to be my boyfriend when he’s processing the truth.
I’ll tell him as soon as Elizabeth leaves. Or is that me being selfish because I don’t want to change the dynamic between us?
“So,” Archie says, snapping me out of my spiraling thoughts. He looks up at me with mischief in those hazel eyes. “On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate that experience? Be honest. I can take constructive criticism.”
And just like that, Archie is back.
