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I’m obsessed with Darcy Thompson. My addiction to her grows each time I make my excuses to engage her in conversation.
One more inch, and I swear to God, I’ll cut it off. His hand, I mean. The one that’s attached to a disrespectful, dark-haired prick as it hovers just above my girl’s perfectly round ass. She isn’t your girl, Archer. Yet.
Like carved-out-of-stone, erected-in-a-museum Greek god kind of perfect. Sex oozes from every pore in his body, daring women to come closer and taste his goodness.
It’s her. Always Darcy. The one girl who makes me feel emotions beyond sharing a lust-filled night in my bed.
“No. I’ve only ever fantasized about having you in my bed. I changed the entire frame and mattress a few weeks back because I couldn’t stand the thought that any other woman had been in it. The first time I take you, it has to be this way.”
Archer’s lips skate over mine. “Just come back to my place and be yourself. Don’t hold back. I want every part of you.”
“But I guess my subconscious tracks because, wow. Incredible. Tell me you’re having my baby. Say the words and make my fucking life.”
“I’d tear down entire cities and whole-ass countries to keep you and our baby safe. So, just know, if you’re thinking about running away, I’m going to chase you. Anywhere, everywhere. Forever.”
“I’m in love with you, Darcy. I’m going to need you to be my girlfriend now.”
Me: Very perceptive, Morgan. Although it wasn’t my idea. Your baby sister likes me to fuck her brains out in risky places. What can I say? I don’t make the rules. I simply follow them like a good boy.
