Crave (Billionaire Bachelors Club #1)(43)

As each day passes, my admiration for him grows. I care for Archer far more than I want to admit. I think he cares for me too. Spending so much one-on-one time with this gorgeous, frustrating, adorable, volatile, sweet, stubborn man, I can’t get over how much I didn’t know about him until now.

His drive. His passion. His intelligence. He so believes in what he’s doing, the service he provides for people, he will do everything he can to ensure that he offers his guests the absolute best service their money can buy. And he’s pulling out all the stops for the new resort. It’s costing him a fortune. He’ll charge his guests a fortune too. But I have a sneaking suspicion they’ll love it and come back for more.

And he’ll become an absolute success all over again.

Running my fingers through my hair, I scratch the back of my head, squinting at my laptop’s screen. I’ve been searching for the lobby rugs and I can’t find them. I have a visual in my head, but so far nothing comes close to my imagination. I’m afraid I’m going to have to settle.

I know if I told Archer that, he would flip. Demand I continue my search until I find rugs I absolutely love. He’s definitely not about settling, even for rugs.

Hunched over my laptop, I curl my leg beneath me on the chair and sigh, scrolling through yet another textiles website, looking through a ton of ugly rugs that are all wrong, no matter how much I try to make them right. My vision is blurry and my neck aches. It’s past seven, I’m so ready to call it quits but I’m trying to wait for Archer to return.

Silly, yes, but I can’t help myself. I want to see him.

When we’re not in Calistoga, we’re headquartered in Archer’s office at Hush. That’s where I’m at now, waiting for him while he handles some sort of urgent issue. There are always urgent issues for Archer to handle. He does everything at Hush. The man has so much on his plate it overwhelms me, and I’m not the one who has to take care of it all; I’m only an observer. Most of the time he’s putting out various fires, which must get super old.

But I guess this is what comes with being the owner.

Stretching my arms above my head I grimace when I hear and feel my neck pop, then settle back into position. I curl my fingers around the mouse when big, warm hands settle on my shoulders, making me yelp in surprise.

“So tense,” Archer murmurs, his deep voice sounding directly in my ear.

“You scared the crap out of me.” I sink my teeth into my lower lip when he starts to rub to keep a moan from escaping. Oh my God, that feels so good. I think I might melt into a pool of nothing if he keeps it up.

“Sorry. You were too busy scowling at your laptop.” He continues to massage my shoulders and I close my eyes, savoring his touch. How good he makes me feel. “Find what you want?”

If we’re talking about you, yes I sure did. “Not really,” I admit with a sigh.

He’s standing directly behind my chair, rubbing my shoulders, his fingers digging into my flesh. My entire body warms and loosens at having his hands on me and I want to turn around, grab him, and tell him let’s go back home.

Scary, how I’m starting to think of his house as home. I’m certainly not spending my nights in the guest room, that’s for sure. Or at Hush like we’d originally planned. No, I get to spend them in his amazing, humongous bed in his equally amazing, humongous master bedroom.

The man certainly knows how to live with every luxury available. My parents may be wealthy, but they’re downright modest compared to Archer.

“You should schedule a massage,” he murmurs, dropping a kiss on top of my head.

My insides warm at the sweet gesture. I’m dying to have that mouth of his on mine. “Why would I need to when I have you?” Opening my eyes, I heave a big sigh. Yes. Yes, I’ve lost it. All over Archer.

All for Archer.

“True.” He sounds amused, his voice warm, his touch gentle as he squeezes my shoulders. “I’ll give you a more thorough massage when we get home.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“It’ll involve special oils from the spa and you completely naked.” His voice drops to a husky whisper, sending shivers down my spine, and I smile at my laptop screen.

“Sounds absolutely amazing.”

“It will be, I can promise you that.” He crouches beside me, his face level with mine, and I cut my gaze to his, marveling at his handsome features. His dark brown hair falls across his forehead, making me want to reach across and push it away. So I do, my fingers sifting through the silky soft strands. “Still looking for rugs for the lobby, huh?”

“It’s been a rather . . . frustrating process.” I click out of the website I was perusing and turn more fully to face him.

“I know someone who designs rugs. Has a studio where they’re hand woven.” He smiles. “Every one of them is like a work of art.”

“I’m sure they are. Very expensive works of art,” I stress. We’re completely over budget but he flat out doesn’t care. He spares no expense. It sort of drives me crazy.

And makes me admire him even more.

He shakes his head. “I’ve never seen a person so obsessed with rugs before.”

“That’s because I have an idea in my head I can’t shake.” I tap my forehead. “And it sucks because I’m forever disappointed in every stupid rug I see.”