Archer's Voice (A Sign of Love Novel)(70)

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 his 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 this 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 pulled 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.