Archer's Voice (A Sign of Love Novel)(45)

Archer came out of his house and smiled at me, and I grinned back, walking toward him. It was going to take me some time to get used to his new look. God, he was gorgeous. Granted, his clothes were still a little odd for a twenty-something guy who… wait, how old was Archer anyway?
About twenty feet from him, I signed, How old are you?
He looked confused for a second, and then looked off in the distance as if he was calculating and said, Twenty-three.
I stopped, frowning. Why do you look confused?
He shook his head slightly. Uncle Nate didn't exactly celebrate birthdays so I forget the year sometimes. My birthday is December second.
I didn't know what to say to that. No one had celebrated his birthday? All these years? It seemed like a relatively simple thing and yet for some reason, it made my heart squeeze painfully.
I'm sorry, Archer, I said when I got right up to him.
He shrugged as if it was neither here nor there. Come inside?
I nodded.
"By the way," I said, following behind him into his house, "you don't know anything about my loose front stair do you?" I had noticed that it wasn't loose anymore when I had gotten home from work earlier. There was no way George Connick would know about that. I hadn't called him. The last person who'd been up my stairs was Archer.
He looked back at me and turned his body slightly. It was dangerous, he said. I went over and fixed it earlier today. It only took a few minutes.
I breathed out. "Thank you. That was really thoughtful." God, this man. He was going to kill me with sweetness overload.
He simply nodded as if it had been nothing.
When we got inside, he took my hand and led me to the couch and we both sat down. I looked at him expectantly. Looking at this big, beautiful man, with a body many men spent hours at the gym for, sitting in front of me looking so shy and uncertain, was something I could hardly wrap my mind around–and yet it made my heart pick up speed and warmth rush through my veins. He looked slightly uncomfortable, but he took a deep breath and signed, About yesterday… I–
Archer, I interrupted, you don't have to explain. I think I understand–
No, you don't, he interrupted back. He rubbed his hand over his new, short hair. Bree, I'm not… he let out a sigh, clenching his jaw slightly. I'm not experienced with… His eyes bored into mine, shining with intensity. I felt that intensity between my thighs. I couldn't help it, my body reacted to him whether I asked it to or not.
Can I ask you a question? He said, those same red spots appearing high on his cheekbones. God, he was beautiful to me.
Anything.
Did you… want me to kiss you yesterday? Did you want me to touch you? His lips parted slightly, and he watched me for my answer like his life depended on it.
Yes, I said without hesitation. I had played games with guys in the past. Games of flirtation and hard-to-get, but with Archer, I didn't give it a second thought. Complete honesty was the only thing I would give him. I would never purposefully hurt this beautiful, sensitive, wounded man more than he had already been hurt.
He let out a breath on a loud whoosh. I wanted to kiss you, to touch you. I just didn't know… if you wanted that too–
I smiled, looking up at him through my lashes. Archer, I said, taking his hand and bringing it to my heart, which was beating wildly in my chest. "Do you feel that?" I whispered, using my voice since my hands held his against me. "This is how you affect me. My heart is pounding, because I want you to kiss me so badly that I can barely breathe."
His eyes widened, his pupils dilated so large that his golden brown eyes looked dark brown. Something almost palpable passed between us. He looked from my eyes to my mouth and back to my eyes again. I didn't move, instinctively knowing that it meant something to him to take the lead here. I sat still, my eyes roaming to his mouth too. He licked his lips and that small movement sent a spark of electricity straight between my legs. I squeezed them together lightly, trying to relieve the ache that was building there.
Kiss me, kiss me, I chanted in my mind, the tension building so much that when his head finally started slowly moving toward mine, I almost groaned in relief.
He moved toward me, his lips parting slightly, the look on his face a mix between uncertainty and blatant lust. I'd never forget that look–as long as I lived, I'd never forget the sheer beauty of the expression on Archer's face. Next time it wouldn't be the same. Once he had kissed me, his first kiss, this I knew, it would never be the same again. I drank it in, memorized it, made it a part of me. And then his lips reached mine and I did groan, a breathless sound that came unbidden up my throat. His eyes opened and for a second he paused, his eyes growing even darker before he pressed his lips firmly against mine, closing his eyes once more. I closed mine too and soaked in the feel of his soft lips tasting mine, experimenting, brushing softly and then pressing again. After several seconds, he moved his body closer to mine and his tongue swept across the seam of my lips to which I immediately opened, inviting him in without reservation. His tongue entered my mouth tentatively and I used my own to tangle with his. He pressed his body even closer and a small exhale released from his mouth to mine, as if he was breathing life into me. And maybe he was. Maybe he had been all along.