For the briefest flash, Elle looked like she’d been slapped, but she recovered quickly. “Tell me about the watch, Morgan.”
Morgan rolled a shoulder. “He cheated on me. Once way back during the time of the first con, and then again when he was out on parole. I was angry and betrayed. I wanted him to feel some of that. So yeah, I took the watch. I’m not exactly proud of it and I didn’t do it to sell the thing out from beneath him or anything like that—although I thought about it. But it was more of a . . . victory prize. He didn’t want me, he threw me away. Mom told me to think of it as my tip.”
Elle just stared at her. “If Mom taught us anything from day one, it was to never hold on to anything, not for sentiment, not for love, not for profit, not for anything because it would take you down, every single time.”
“It wasn’t for profit,” Morgan said as she closed her eyes. “But it was for sentiment.”
“What does that mean?” Elle asked.
Morgan opened her eyes and looked at Elle. “I kept the watch because it reminded me of you.”
“Me?”
“Because it was from that night,” Archer said quietly, understanding Morgan more than he expected.
“The watch goes with the brooch you returned,” Morgan said to Elle. “And now I’ve set Lars on your trail because he thinks that I have more than that. I’ve broken your trust and screwed everything up.”
Elle sighed. “This isn’t all on you. It’s also on Mom.”
“And me. I did this,” Morgan said. “But I can fix it.”
“No,” Archer said. “But I can.”
They both turned on him at that, two sisters unexpectedly unified. “This is our problem,” Morgan said. “My problem.”
“She’s right.” Elle met his gaze. “I can’t let you get involved, Archer. Not again. God knows what we’ll ruin for you this time.”
He took her hand in his, needing her with him on this. “This is right in my wheelhouse, Elle. I need you to let me and the guys handle this.”
“Only if you let me in,” she said. “I’m not letting you do this without me.”
“Or me,” Morgan said, equally stubborn.
Well, hell. This had all the makings of a complete clusterfuck but he had these two women looking at him, trusting him, and all they wanted was for him to do the same. “We do this my way,” he warned. “Which means you’re both still staying with me.” He looked at Morgan. “No more vanishing. If you leave this building, you go together or you take one of my men with you.”
“Can I have the cute one with the tats?” Morgan asked.
“Reyes?” he asked. “Definitely not.”
“Why?”
“Because you’ll eat him alive,” Archer said.
“Well of course I will,” Morgan said on a laugh. “But I promise you he’ll like it.”
Elle rolled her eyes.
Morgan cocked her head in her sister’s direction, still looking at Archer. “You must be doing something wrong if that annoys her. Need some pointers?”
Archer was rethinking his stance on strangling her when she laughed again and stood up. “Okay, I’m going upstairs to earn my keep.” She paused. “But I just want to say again . . . I’m sorry. I know that’s not good enough, that I should’ve trusted you sooner. But I really am sorry.”
And then she was gone.
“You do too much for me. I hate that you’re doing this too,” Elle said.
“You do plenty for me in return.”
“Such as?” she asked.
“Keep me human.”
She looked a little stunned at the admission and he couldn’t say he didn’t feel the same. He stood up, dropped some money into Tina’s tip jar, and then pulled Elle out of the shop. He tugged her past the fountain and into Old Man Eddie’s alley, thankful to find it empty.
Gently he pressed Elle up against the brick wall and kissed her. It was a relentless need, driven by worry for her safety, by the strange sensations in his chest that flooded him at her nearness, and by a driving need to wrap her up in his arms and never let go.
Elle surprised him by seeming to have the same need because she wrapped her arms around him just as tight and deepened the kiss. When her tongue touched his, her taste invaded his senses and he lost his mind a little bit. He wanted to eat her up. Every inch of her.
She pulled away breathless, shaking her head as if to clear it, laughter glinting in her blue eyes. “Trying to kiss some sense into me?” she asked, her fingers still tangled in his hair.
“Trying to kiss some sense into me.” God’s truth. “You’re killing me here. You need me safe, right?”
“Of course,” she said.
“So can you try to understand that I have the same need for you?”
She studied him intently and then slowly nodded. “Yes.”
He trailed a finger down the curve of her cheek, across her lips, and down her throat, absorbing her shiver with his body. “Is that a yes, you’ll let me keep you safe?”
“Yes, I’ll try not to kill you while you do.”
She was playing, but he wasn’t. Couldn’t. He cupped her face. “Tell me you understand.”
Still not breathing all that steadily, she nodded. “I do. Just as you should understand that if there’s any dirt on my backside from this alley wall, you owe me a new dress.”
That night Elle stared at the L-shaped couch in Archer’s living room. It was comfy but if she was being honest with herself, she didn’t want to even bother with the pretense of getting ready to sleep on it.
Once again, Archer was in the shower. Morgan was on the couch, watching her with a knowing smirk.
“Shut up,” Elle said, and she stalked into Archer’s bedroom, shutting the door harder than strictly necessary.
She climbed up on the great big mattress and got under the warm bedding, hugging Archer’s pillow to her face, inhaling his scent deeply. God, he smelled amazing. If she could bottle it, she’d make a million bucks . . . She didn’t know how long she’d lain there drifting on that thought when she realized she wasn’t alone in the room. And given the way her nipples got happy, she knew exactly who’d joined her.
Chapter 22
#HashtagGettingLucky
Archer stopped short at the sight of Elle facedown on his bed, apparently trying to inhale his pillow. She froze as if sensing him, and rolled onto her back.
“Your bed is comfortable,” she said.
“Thanks, Goldilocks.” Smiling, he moved to the edge of the bed, admiring the sight of her in it. “Were you just sniffing my pillow?”
“No.” She sighed. “Maybe a little. You always smell so good.” She sat up and let the covers fall to her hips. She was in one of his T-shirts and—he was hoping—nothing else.
“Tired?” she asked.
“Not even a little,” he said as he sat on the bed, planting a hand on either side of her hips, caging her in.
She pulled him in and he let her roll him to his back and pin him to the mattress. She was looking quite determined as she bent over him, holding his hands down on either side of his head.
“I wanted to surprise you,” she said, shaking her head like she was surprised herself. “I don’t even like surprises.”
He flashed a grin. “But you like me.”
She shook her head again. “In spite of myself.”