His breath was coming out in sharp pants against my chest as he moved between breasts, licking and sucking at the stiff peaks, making me crazy with lust.

My body tightened and pulsed around him as an orgasm washed through me, and I cried out Archer's name, shivering with bliss.

I opened my eyes and looked into his, half closed and dark with desire. He took over and thrust up into me as I held onto him and moaned out at the small aftershocks he was inducing.

After a couple thrusts, I felt him swell even more inside of me and his lips parted and his eyes lowered further as he climaxed, his chest rising and falling in heavy pants.

He was so beautiful. I felt something catch in my chest and knew it was just him, taking my breath away.

I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him to me, and I stayed seated on him for several minutes as our breathing slowed.

Then I leaned up and pulled off of him, making a small noise of loss that made him smile up at me. I smiled too and collapsed back on the bed, sighing contentedly.

Archer laid down next to me and signed, Is there any reason we need to leave this bed for the next… three months or so?

I laughed, looking over at him and signed, Nah, not really. I mean, other than that I'll get fired from my job and won't be able to pay my rent, and this bed will be out in the road at some point.

He grinned, his chest rising and falling in a silent chuckle. For a portion of a second, I wished desperately that I could hear that chuckle–I'd bet it was deep and throaty–a beautiful sound. But almost as quickly as the thought came, I dismissed it. I wanted him just as he was. I'd never hear his chuckle, but that was okay. I had his heart, and his thoughts, and him. And it was more than enough. In fact, it was everything.

I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed him and then pulled back and said, 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."

CHAPTER 22

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 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.