He is a wild card and a little of a drama king, but he’s also kind.
I smile, thinking about the way he was so sweet to that elderly lady at the grocery store. He didn’t have to placate that woman. I imagine most celebrities wouldn’t give someone’s grandma the time of day. There’s very little chance that she’s a fan, and why waste a second that would have no benefit to him?
I refuse to think of how I felt walking up and realizing the old lady was trying to fix him up with her grandson. That’s my issue to deal with and overanalyze later.
He’s not a wild party animal like he’s let the world believe he is. He doesn’t drink and go on benders. He’s not snorting his hard-earned money up his nose. The man collects bottle caps and Hot Wheels, for heaven’s sake. People knowing that could go a long way to making them see him as a flawed human, exactly what Blackbridge Security is trying to do by having him out in public, doing the same mundane things that most everyone else walking the earth has to do, but he made me promise not to tell anyone.
“Are you sure?” I ask again as he covers his mouth with his hand for yet another yawn.
“It’s too peaceful out here.”
I don’t have to ask him what he means even though his house is quiet. I’m well aware of how loud my own thoughts can be sometimes, and maybe he’s struggling with the same thing.
“Come here then,” I say, lifting my arm. “Rest.”
His eyes watch mine, melancholy filling them before he moves and places his head on my lap. I don’t know what he’s looking for or if he’ll ever find it, but I don’t mind giving him a little compassion. It has to be terrible to be going through what he is, not that being on top of the world was any easier for him.
I brush my fingers over his hair and turn my eyes back to the setting sun.
I’m kind of glad he’s opting to stay in the park with me. I’d have no excuse to be this close to the man if we were back at his house, which I’ve told him is a no touch area. Doing this in private wouldn’t be for show. It would be personal, and breaking that rule isn’t something I want to consider.
Touching him where no one can see, where there isn’t the opportunity to be photographed, would only lead to trouble.
“This is nice,” he says, his words soft and sleepy.
“Mmm,” I hum in agreement.
Archer chuckles when it’s my turn to yawn.
“You’re sleepy, too.”
“A little,” I agree, but the fact is, I’m always a little tired, hence my addiction to coffee. “Didn’t sleep well last night.”
Or really any night since we met.
I keep that last part to myself.
“How about this?” Archer asks, lifting his head from my lap before pushing a warm palm to my chest until I’m lying back.
“That may be going a little too far,” I say, as he leans over me with his palm flat on the blanket on both sides of my head. “We don’t need to be arrested for indecent behavior.”
His grin grows wider. “Brooks Morgan, what kind of man do you think I am?”
I cock an eyebrow at him.
“Do I need to mention you jacking off in front of me this morning?”
“Only if we’re also going to talk about the erection it gave you.”
I look away, making him laugh once more. “That’s what I thought. Hush, we’re just snuggling, and we’re fully clothed.”
He snuggles into my side, his arm around my middle, head resting right over my heart.
I’m ramrod still, but I know he can hear the increased beat in my heart.
Maybe I’m just as starved for attention as he is. The women I work with waste no time with public displays of affection. Our lips meet on the very first outing, and yeah that happened with Archer while we were outside of his house, but that was a simple brush, a tease.
Somehow, each minute I spend with Archer feels like foreplay, like we’re dancing around each other. We don’t go wild like I’ve had happen before while on other assignments. He doesn’t straddle my lap and stick his tongue in my mouth when he knows there’s less of a chance for me to push him away because the last thing we need is speculation that there’s trouble in our “relationship.”
He saves all of that for the privacy of his home. Our outings consist of our arms around each other, soft hugs, and holding hands.
Until now. I guess what we’re doing wouldn’t be considered wild. His body is pressed to mine, but it’s not like he has his leg swung over mine. He’s not grinding on me, and yet it feels more intimate than it would if he had his tongue in my mouth and his hand on my dick.