Archer's Voice(84)

Loving another person always means opening yourself up for hurt. I don't want to lose more than I already have either, but isn't it worth it? Isn't it worth giving it a chance? I asked.

He searched my eyes and nodded his head, but his own eyes told me that he wasn't convinced that he meant it. I took a deep breath. I would make it my job to make him believe. I would believe strongly enough for the both of us if I had to. I took him in my arms and then scooted over so that I could climb up on his lap and nuzzle him more closely. "I love you, I love you, I love you," I whispered, smiling, trying to make this moment a happy one.

He smiled back and put his lips against mine, mouthing, "I love you, too," against my mouth, as if he was breathing love into my body.

I kept breathing against him, and after a while, he started fidgeting slightly, adjusting me on his lap. My pulse rate quickened as my body reacted to his nearness, his smell, the feel of his big, hard body right up against mine, and specifically something hard and hot pressing into my hip.

I reached my hand down and rubbed the bulge at the front of his jeans and smiled against his neck. "Are you constantly hard?" I asked, my lips against his skin.

I felt him chuckle silently against my chest and smiled at the fact that the sadness and tension from a few minutes before seemed to dissolve as our bodies heated. I leaned back and looked at him, tenderness and desire shining in his eyes. He brought his hands up. Yes, when you're around–it's why I'm always grimacing. He faked a pained expression.

I tilted my head. "I thought that was just your natural personality."

That, too.

I laughed and when I put more pressure on the grimace-causing bulge in question, he closed his eyes, his lips parting.

When he opened his eyes, he asked, Do you miss hearing the sounds I might make during sex if I had a voice? He watched my face as I thought about that.

I moved a piece of hair off his forehead and then shook my head slowly. No, I don't think about that. I don't rely on the sounds you might make to read you. I watch your expression and your eyes. I leaned in and brushed my lips against his mouth and then leaned back. I listen to your breathing and the way you dig your fingers into my hips right before you're about to come. There are so many ways to read you, Archer Hale. And I love every single one of them.

His eyes glittered at me before he moved forward suddenly, grabbing my face in his hands and laying me back down on the couch before coming down over me. I had a feeling the time for talking had just ended. Butterflies took up flight between my ribs and my belly clenched. I moaned, a deep, breathy sound that came up my throat, and let him take over, arching up into him, my core beginning to throb insistently. How was it that this man had just started having sex, and only with me, a couple weeks ago, and yet I trusted him with my body over anyone more experienced I'd been with before? Archer, overachiever that he was. I smiled into his mouth and he smiled back into mine, although he didn't lean back to ask me what exactly I was smiling about. I swept my tongue inside his mouth, the taste of him making me feel like I was going to combust–how could the inside of someone's mouth taste so delicious that it made you instantly dizzy with lust? It had been hours since I'd had a sip of beer, but I felt drunk on him–drunk with love, with lust, with something indescribable that I couldn't even name, and yet it owned me, body and soul–some kind of primal connection that must have been there before I existed, before he existed, before he or I ever breathed the same air, something written in the very stars.

He ground his erection down on my core, making me gasp and tear my mouth from his, groaning as I threw my head back, intense pleasure vibrating through my veins.

"Archer, Archer," I breathed, "there will never be anyone else for me." My words seemed to ignite him, his breathing coming out in sharp pants as he pulled my t-shirt up and popped my bra open in one movement, releasing my breasts to the cool air.

He sucked one nipple into his warm mouth as I moaned and wove my fingers into his hair, sparks of electricity shooting from my nipple down to my engorged clit. My hips surged upwards, bucking into his hardness, and he hissed in a breath and pulled back, looking down at me with his eyes at half-mast. More wetness trickled down to my core at the look on his face alone and my mouth dropped open. Intensity and lust were stark in his expression, but so was his love for me. I'd never seen anything like it. The power in that expression was so jaw-dropping, that I could only stare for several seconds as the blood continued to course south, making me desperate with want. I felt like my entire body was a live wire–and so was my heart. It was almost too much.