“Archer…”
He presses his lips to mine, hovering there to test my response. I respond the only way I know how—I wrap my arms around his neck and shut my eyes. We make out soft and slow. Until my belly drops and my knees weaken and my mind spins and weaves a fantasy finally within reach. I hum as he pulls his mouth away from mine. My eyes refuse to open.
“Let’s go outside and make a fire.”
“Let’s make one right here.”
He smirks. “You’re tired.”
“I am not.” I feign offense, but he’s not wrong. I stifled a few yawns on the drive back. I fight one now.
“You have a glass of wine to finish. Let’s do it outside.” He nods toward the balcony.
“Are you crazy? It’s like, zero degrees.”
“It’s thirty degrees. I have a heated blanket if you need it. Come on, Wildflower. Live a little.”
“Will you promise to drive me to the hospital when I pass out from hypothermia?”
“Yes.” He drops a fast kiss on my mouth. “Wait here.”
He goes outside and begins doing manly things like rearranging furniture and stacking wood into the fireplace. Maybe the cold will wake me up. I want to be alert for the good stuff that will inevitably follow tonight.
Once the fire is lit, and an incredibly large, comfy-looking blanket with a cord is arranged on the outdoor sofa, he invites me out.
“Your cheeks are rosy.” I touch his nose. “And your nose is chilly.”
“I’ll keep you warm.” He presses his chilly nose to my cheek and I squeak in alarm.
We arrange ourselves in front of the fire. He sits with one leg crossed ankle-to-knee. I burrow into the heated blanket like I’m hibernating there for the winter. My teeth chatter audibly, which I assume is why he wraps his arm around me and tells me I’m “almost there.”
Gradually, the blanket and fire do their jobs. He isn’t superhuman, after all, and has joined me beneath the blanket. I’m now snuggled against the wall of his chest, which isn’t as hard as I imagined, but quite comfy. Like he’s contoured to the shape of my body.
He lifts our wineglasses, handing me mine before sipping from his. “Warm?”
“Perfect. I can’t believe it.” Even with the cold air nipping at my nose, I’m comfortable in enough other places to ignore it. I hide my face in his neck and inhale the luscious scent of eucalyptus.
“Feel free to fall asleep.” His voice reverberates where my lips rest on his throat.
“Can’t,” I mumble, not wanting to admit how nice that sounds. “There is lots of acrobatic sex to be had. Plus, I have to transfer my handwritten notes to the computer while they’re fresh in my mind.”
“You can do that tomorrow. You need rest.”
“Which one? The acrobatic sex or transferring my notes?”
“Yes.” His free arm hugs me close, and I hum, content to cocoon in his warmth.
“This wine is thwarting my efforts to keep my eyes open.”
“Good wine makes you sleepy.” He sets his glass aside and then takes mine from my hand.
“I don’t want to miss out on great sex. It’s been a long week.”
“Tell me about it.” He chuckles. “What’s your pleasure?”
“You go down on me for like, forty minutes or so…”
He growls low in his throat. “Just forty?”