Archer's Voice (22 page)

I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed him and then pulled back and sa
id,
Come take a shower with me.

He smiled and followed behind me to the bathroom where I
quickly pinned my hair up, and then turned the water on to hot and climbed in.

Archer followed behind me and we took turns washing each other's bodies. He touched me tenderly, almost reverently, as he rubbed body wash over my skin.
He cleaned every part of me, even between my toes as I giggled and pulled them away, signing,
Too ticklish!

He grinned and stood up and kissed me hard on the mouth
, and I grabbed the body wash from him and washed him from shoulders to toes as well, spending an extra bit of time on his muscular ass–but that was purely selfish. He had an exceptional ass.

When the water started cooling, we rinsed off one final time and stepped out, drying each other off.

I blew the candles out and then we climbed under the covers together, naked. Archer pulled me into him as I rested my head on his chest, drawing lazy circles on his skin with my pointer finger.

Outside, the rain was falling down gently now
, and the moonlight over the lake shined in, casting just enough light that I could see Archer's hands when he raised them and said,
You're my everything, Bree.

I leaned up
and looked at his face in the semi-darkness. How was it that he looked happy and sad at the same time? "You're mine too, Archer," I said. "Everything."

"And now," I said sleepily,
drifting toward sleep, "when a thunderstorm comes, I'll think of you, not anything other than you."

Bree

Over the next week we fell into an easy routine, so wrapped up in each other that I could barely wait to get off work, practically racing home to shower and grab Phoebe before heading straight to Archer's house. The smile that he greeted me with each day made me feel treasured as I ran into his arms, feeling in my head and my heart that I was finally home.

Not the place, but his arms. Archer's arms were my home–the only place I wanted to be, the place where I felt safe. The place where I felt loved.

We made love everywhere, spending long nights exploring each other's bodies and learning everything about what brought pleasure to the other. And just like Archer, he became a master in the fine art of lovemaking–leaving me languid and drugged with pleasure at the end of every interlude. Not only did he know how to make me wild with desire with his hands and his tongue and his impressive male parts, but he knew that when he scratched the backs of my knees with his short fingernails, I would purr like a cat, and that it relaxed me entirely when he ran his fingers through my hair. It was as if my body was his instrument and he learned to play it so perfectly that the melody vibrated within my very soul. Not only because of the pleasure he brought, but because he cared so much to know every little thing about me.

One day, he put a bowl of potato chips out while I was preparing us lunch and as I snacked on them, I noticed that they were all the folded ones that I loved, but usually had to hunt for.

I looked down at the chips and then up at Archer, confused. "All these chips… they're all folded," I said, thinking I sounded crazy.

Aren't those the ones you like?

I nodded slowly, realizing that he had gone through several bags of chips to collect the ones I liked the best. And realizing that he had noticed that small fact about me at all, I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. But that was just Archer. He wanted to please me, and he'd do anything in that effort.

Sometimes we would be doing something on his property when I would look over at him and see him looking at me with that lazy look on his face that meant that he was thinking about what he wanted to do to me in that moment
, and I would become almost instantly wet and needy, my nipples pebbling beneath his silent stare.

And then he would either pick me up and carry me to his bed, or if we were so overcome, he would take me right where we were–on a blanket on the grass, the bright sunlight shining
above us, or in the two-person hammock, or on the sandy shore of the lake.

After just such a session, as my body was still quivering with the orgasm he had just given me, I whispered breathlessly, "I dreamed this, Archer. I dreamed of you and me–just like this."

His eyes burned down into mine, and he leaned up and studied me for long minutes before he leaned down and kissed me so tenderly that I thought my heart would break.

I rolled him over in the wet sand, grinning against his mouth as he smiled too. And then we both stopped laughing as I lay my head on his chest and lived right there in that moment, thankful for the air in my lungs and the sunshine on my back, and the beautiful man in my arms. And h
is hands made letters on my skin and after a few minutes, I realized that he was spelling,
My Bree
…
My Bree
… again and again and again.

The weather was cool now and so after a little bit, we ran inside laughing and shivering and climbed in the shower to get all the sand off of us.

We curled up on his couch and he lit a fire in the fireplace, and we snuggled for a little while before I leaned back and looked at him.

Archer had th
is way of doing things that was so sexy and supremely male, it made my heart skip a beat at how naturally and unknowingly he did them. He would lean a hip against the counter in a certain way, or stand in a doorway holding on to the moulding above him as he watched me–things he had no idea affected me the way they did. It was just him being
him,
and somehow that made it even more appealing. There was no way I would tell him. I loved having that secret–I loved that those things were all mine, and I didn't want to affect his actions by making him aware of them. As for me, well, I was a total lost cause when it came to Archer Hale.

It made me wonder at the man he would have been
if he hadn't been in that terrible accident, hadn't lost his voice… would he have been the quarterback of the football team? Gone to college? Run his own business? I had teased him once about being good at everything he did… and truly, he was. He just didn't see that. He didn't believe he had much of anything to offer.

He still hadn't opened up to me about the day that he lost his parents
, and I hadn't asked him again. I wanted to know desperately what had happened to him, but I wanted to wait until he felt safe enough to tell me.

What are you thinking about?
he asked, cocking one eyebrow up.

I smiled.
You,
I said.
I was thinking about how I thank my lucky stars every day that I ended up here… right here, with you.

He smiled that sweet smile that made my stomach quiver and said,
Me too.
Then he frowned and looked away.

What
? I asked, taking his chin and turning his face back to me.

Will you stay, Bree?
He asked.
Will you stay here with me?
He looked like a little boy in that moment, and I realized how much he needed me to tell him that I wouldn't go away like everyone else in his life had.

I nodded my head.
Yes,
I said.
Yes.
I meant it with my whole heart. My life was here now–my life was this man. Whatever that meant–I wasn't going anywhere.

He looked in my eyes as if trying to decide if I was being completely honest and seemed to be satisfied with what he saw. He nodded and pul
led me to him, holding me tight.

He hadn't told me he loved me, and I hadn't said it to him either. But in that moment, I realized I was in love with him. So deeply in love that it almost bubbled to the surface of my lips
, and I had to physically clamp my mouth shut not to shout it. But somehow, I thought I needed to wait for him to say it. If he was falling in love with me, too, I wanted him to come to that realization on his own. Archer had lived a life so devoid of human kindness, of touch and attention. It had to be overwhelming for him. We hadn't discussed it, but I had watched his eyes as we did simple things over the past week, like lay on the couch and read, or eat a meal together, or walk on the shore of the lake, and it was as if he was trying to organize all the thoughts and feelings in his head–playing sixteen years of emotional catch up. Perhaps we should have talked about it, perhaps that would have helped him, but for some reason, we never did. Inside, it was my deepest hope that my love would be enough to heal his wounded heart.

After
a minute he let go of me, and I sat up and looked at him. He had a small smile on his face.
I have a favor to ask you,
he said.

I furrowed my
brows.
Okay
, I said, giving him a suspicious look.

Will you teach me how to drive?

How to… yes! Of course! You want to drive?

He nodded his head.
My uncle had a pick-up truck. I keep it in a garage in town. They start it up every once in a while and drive it around. I always meant to sell it, but I just never got around to it, never really… knew exactly how I'd do that. But now maybe that's a good thing.

I was excited and I practically bounced up and down on the couch. This was the first real time that Archer had indicated on his own that he wanted to do something that would take him away from his own property–other than grocery shop.

Okay! When?
I asked.
I don't have to work tomorrow.

Okay then, tomorrow
, he said, smiling and gathering me to him.

And so it came to be that
Archer was behind the wheel of a big, piece of junk-looking pick-up truck, while I sat in the passenger seat, trying to teach him the rules of the road and how to operate a stick shift. We had chosen a large open space a couple miles down the highway, just off the lake.

"Smell that?"
I asked. "That's the smell of burning clutch. Eeeeease off of it."

After about an hour of practice, Archer pretty much had it, with the exception of a few lurches
, which had me stomping on my imaginary brake and laughing out loud.

He grinned over at me, his eyes roaming down to my bare legs. I followed his gaze and crossed my legs, hiking my skirt up just a little bit in the process and then glancing back up at him. His eyes were already dilating, making them dark and droop very slightly. Oh God, I loved that look. That look meant very, very good things for me.

"Driving is serious business, Archer," I said teasingly. "Letting your attention roam from the task at hand could be dangerous for everyone involved." I smiled prettily, tucking my hair behind my ear.

He raised his eyebrows, amusement filling his expression, and turned back to the front window. The truck moved forward, Archer speeding up and shifting into second gear easily. The dirt area we were in wasn't so large that Archer could practice fourth gear yet, but he moved to third gear and steered us in wide circles.

I crossed my legs in the other direction and ran a finger up my thigh, just stopping at the hem of my skirt. I glanced at Archer and his eyes were riveted on my finger. He glanced out the front window briefly and kept driving in wide circles.

I was distracting
him, but there was no danger here.

I let my finger continue to trail up my thigh, hiking my skirt up now so that my pink, polka dot
underwear were showing.

I glanced at Archer and his lips were parted slightly and his eyes were hungry as they watched to see what I would do next. Truth be told, I had never done anything like this before. But Archer brought things out in me that no one ever had–he made me feel sexy and experimental and
safe.
He made me feel more alive than I'd ever felt in all my life.

As I watched him, h
e swallowed heavily and glanced back at the front window before looking back at me.

I reached my
fingers down the front of my underwear and leaned my head back on the seat, closing my eyes and moaning softly. I heard Archer's breath hitch in his throat.

I arched my hips up as my fingers slid further, finally reaching the slick wetness between my thighs. I brought some of it up to my small nub, waves of pleasure radiating out from my own touch. I moaned again and the truck lurched.

I used my finger to stroke myself, bursts of pure pleasure making me gasp out and press upward into my own hand.

Suddenly, I was jerked forward as the truck came to a sudden stop, Archer not even downshifting, just taking his foot off of the gas so that it lurched and stalled. My eyes flew open
in time to see Archer pull the emergency brake up and push me gently backwards onto the seat as he crawled over me.

I gazed up at him as he moved me so that my head was at the passenger side door and he scooted back. The look on his face was tense and primal and it made my insides clench.
He leaned down and kissed my belly as I tangled my fingers in his soft hair and moaned out.

He leaned up very briefly to bring my
underwear down and I arched my hips up so that they slid over my ass and down my legs. My entire body was vibrating with need, an intense throb between my legs.

Archer leaned back and opened my thighs and gazed down at me for several seconds before leaning in to my sex and just breathing. I gasped at the feel of his nose rubbing over my clit and his warm breath washing over my most sensitive parts. "Please," I moaned out, threading my fingers through his hair again.

Archer had pleasured me in so many ways over the past week, but this was something he hadn't done yet. I waited, holding my breath and when the first stroke of his tongue touched my folds, I pressed upwards, moaning softly. The pulsing in my clit grew stronger, my excitement spiking upwards as he began circling the small nub with his tongue as I'd taught him to do with his fingers. He moved faster and faster, the warm, slick wetness of his tongue gliding over me and his warm breath coming out in pants against my folds as his hands gripped my thighs, holding me open to him. Oh God, it was exquisite. The beginnings of an orgasm shimmered around me in beautiful pulses of light right before I shattered completely, bucking upwards into Archer's mouth and crying out his name. "Archer, Archer, Oh God, Yes."

I came back to myself as I felt his warm breath against my belly and felt him smiling against my skin.

I smiled too, stroking his hair, still unable to form words.

All of a sudden, a loud knocking sounded on the window
, and Archer and I both startled, panic washing through me. What the hell? I swung my legs down as Archer sat up, wiping his mouth on his shirt as I fumbled my underwear up my legs and smoothed my skirt down.