But I think my pyramid is built different.
I thinkI’mbuilt different.
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.