Archer gave a small shrug as he watched her disappear across the stairs, then brought the cup to his lips again. He swallowed, the spice of the vodka burning at the back of his throat.
It reminded him of the night of the heat, and not necessarily of the kisses. It had been right before she passed out, right before he let her succumb to the weakness she felt.
He closed his eyes as the memory burnt at the back of his mind, as sharp as the spice.
"Archer?"
He turned to her, his eyes a little thin. He was still breathless from the kisses, and he did hope she would want to do it again. Not because he didn't want to, but because he didn't want to confuse his own feelings.
He didn't want to lead her into thinking they had what he used to have with Celyn. He also didn't want to encourage som
