Chapter 14 #2
It doesn't take me long to go over the mess we made, considering Grace and London made a lot of progress while I was tossing Seven's body into the back seat of his Rolls-Royce. He can worry about the stains in his seats himself, that isn't my problem.
I toss all the food in the trash, take the bag out, and throw it into the garbage chute. I go over the table three times—once to do a general sweep, another to clean it, and one to disinfect it.
My shower water is murky as the remnants of my fight with Seven get washed down the drain.
I scrub at my hand, massaging the soreness of my knuckles, and recall the blows against his head.
I was so fucking angry. I still am. Seven had no right acting like that.
He's an arrogant asshole who has no limits.
I'm his family, and somehow that doesn't matter.
Although I wasn't exactly holding back either.
Taking a look in the mirror at my battered face, I tuck the towel around my waist. I scan my features, not alarmed by the swelling, having seen my face like this a million times before.
It's then that I realize I didn't bring any clothes with me, and London has shut herself in the bedroom. I guess I can't put off confronting her forever.
With a sigh, I exit the bathroom and make my way over, knocking lightly on the door.
"Go away," London calls out.
"I need some clothes," I tell her, the truth.
She grunts and a long second later, opens the door, stepping back to let me in.
I go over to my dresser and pull out a pair of boxers. "I'm going to put these on now," I warn her and drop my towel.
"Fuck, Archer." She shields her eyes and turns her back.
"Do you want to talk about what happened?" I ask her and look for a pair of gray sweatpants.
"Not really. Do you?"
"Not really," I confess. My brother and I got into a fight, it's not a big deal, but that doesn't mean it isn't to her. "I'm sorry you had to see that," I add.
London drops her hands and glares at me. "That's what you think I'm mad about? The fight? I don't give a shit about you and your brother arguing. I mean, he almost killed you, and that was pretty fucked up, but I'm not mad about that."
I stop what I'm doing and face her. "Wait, this is you mad? I don't understand."
"Of course you don't, you're a dumb boy."
I stare at her, trying to understand what the fuck she's getting at.
"You're such an asshole, you know that?"
I run my sore hand through my hair. "I'm confused. How am I an asshole? I got into a fight with my brother because of you."
London crosses her arms over her chest. "I'm sure you would have fought him for anyone, seemed like you were just looking for a reason."
"What the fuck are you talking about? Did you not provoke him? Or am I totally losing it?"
"Your brother is an asshole, too."
"I mean, there's no denying that."
"You really don't get it, do you?" she asks me, her tone serious.
"I don't. Can you spell it out for me?"
"I don't know, Archer. Can I? Or am I dumber than a toddler, too?"
I blink at her a few times, piecing together what it is that she is and isn't saying.
"Or maybe I'm just a means to an end, a favor you never wanted, a disaster even? Or better yet…" London takes a step forward, the space between us shrinking and expanding all at the same time, the tension growing thicker by the second. "Maybe I'm just a spoiled brat."
Everything clicks into place—London isn't mad about the fight, she somehow overheard the conversation I had with Ivy out on the front steps.
"You eavesdropped? How?" I ask her, not sure why my brain is choosing to focus on that tiny detail.
"That's the angle you're going with, big boy? You're mad that I heard you say some shit you wouldn't say to my face? Just admit it, Archer, you can't wait until I move out. Say it to my face." She inches toward me, her face tightened with anger.
I move closer to her. "You are a spoiled brat! Is that what you want to hear? It's not a lie, London."
"You are such an asshole!" London pokes her tiny finger into my chest. "I can't stand you."
"Great," I tell her. "I can't stand you either."
But in the time we've been bickering, we've somehow come closer and closer, until our bodies are almost touching, a hairsbreadth between us.
She tilts her head up at me, anger lining every word she speaks. "I hate you so much, you know that?"
"Good, I hate you, too."
"Good," she snaps back at me. "Then we agree."
"Finally, we agree on something."
I tower over her, our bodies swaying like magnets avoiding each other, the push and pull threatening to tear us apart. But instead, without even fucking thinking it through, my hand cups the small of her neck, my thumb next to her ear, my mouth pressed onto hers.
London doesn't hesitate, she kisses me back, her lips frantic and eager. Our tongues meet, dancing together like they're the only things keeping each other alive. Her hands wrap around my bare torso, her skin fire against mine.
My cock throbs, my heart sputters, and I want nothing more than to throw her onto the bed and rip her clothes off, savoring every inch of her and making her climax so hard she regrets ever talking back to me.
She presses against me, and I drag my fingers along the base of her head, grabbing a fistful of her hair and tugging firmly. London moans into my mouth and I nearly come undone. But the second my arm grazes against the cast on hers, I come to my senses, releasing her immediately.
London stands there, panting, her arms outreached, still lingering on my body. "Fuck," she whispers.
"That…" I swallow harshly, the burning remains of her mouth on mine replaying over and over in my head. "That was a mistake. I shouldn't have…"
London drops her arms, recoiling into herself as she takes a step back. "Yeah, you're right." She pats down her hair and wipes at her lips. "That was stupid." Her gaze trails my body, no doubt noticing the bulge in my boxers. "That can never happen again."
"Never," I repeat, my head knowing damn well that she's right, my cock not so much in agreement.
London and I would never work. We're like fire and air, the two of us resulting in nothing but an explosion that would ruin us both. Not to mention it would make our living arrangement hell. Everything she does drives me insane, and I'm certain she feels the same way.
"Your boner is telling me otherwise," London says, that familiar sarcastic tone of hers returning.
I adjust my dick and turn my back, going to my dresser and locating the sweatpants I was searching for to begin with. "I just kissed a hot girl, what do you expect?"
"You think I'm hot?"
"Don't get any ideas," I tell her and slide into the sweatpants, adjusting the waistband. "This would never work."
"Because of your face." London leans against the wall, her gaze glued to me.
"What's wrong with my face?"
"Have you looked in a mirror? You look like shit."
"You looked like shit a week ago." I eye the entrance of my bedroom and wish I could slip through it to be alone with my thoughts.
"Wow, rude much?" She pauses then adds, "I'm still mad at you, by the way."
"What's new?" I hold my breath and walk by her, not releasing it until I'm on the other side.
I wasn't lying when I said kissing her was a mistake and that it can never happen again, but it's going to take a minute for the rest of me to catch up to that unfortunate reality.