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“So hot,” I chant as I ride him, fast and hard. “So fucking hot.”
I’m clenching around his hard length. I can feel the orgasm building in me, the power that flows whenever we’re together like this. I don’t want to slow down. I don’t want to stop.
I want to make him lose his mind.
He pushes a hand between us and presses his thumb against my clit. I can’t hold back any longer. I explode around him, crying out as I shiver and grind down. To my delight, he pulls me against him hard and comes, as well.
We’re a panting, writhing heap.
It’s fucking glorious.
“Hi,” he says and kisses my collarbone.
“Hi, yourself.”
“What happened?”
“Saw you working out.”
His bright blue eyes fly to mine. “That’s it?”
“That’s all it takes, champ.”
His lips twitch as I pull away and stand, freeing him from the bench.
“And why is that?”
“Do you need me to stroke your ego?”
“You already did that.” He tugs up his shorts and ties the drawstring.
“Okay, look.” I pull my T-shirt on and prop my hands on my hips. “You’ve always been hot. Like, stupid hot. You were so good-looking that it was almost unfair.”
“Keep going.” He grins, his arms crossed over his chest, clearly delighted by this conversation.
“Somehow, you’re better-looking now than you ever were. And I don’t know how that’s possible. Like, did you sell your soul to the devil or something?”
“No.”
“I’m not complaining. I want you to know that this is not me complaining, not in the least. But I don’t understand it. It’s a mystery. Anyway, you’ve only managed to improve with age, and then I came down here looking for you and found you doing”—I wave my arms around—“this.”
“What?”
“Punching the hell out of that bag, and push-ups like they’re your job. And that.” I point at the pull-up bar. “With your back muscles flexing and everything.”
“So, you like it when I work out.”
He tips his head to the side, watching me.
“Yeah.” I swallow hard and nod once. “Yeah, I do.”
“Good to know.” He grabs a towel off a shelf and wipes down his face and neck. “I’ve been training pretty hard with Ben in Seattle. It’s how I’m able to eat pretty much what I want and not gain a gut.”
“Who’s Ben?”
I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he takes a drink of water.
Damn, I have it bad.
“You’ve been gone a long time,” he says, but there’s no censure in his voice. “I’ll give you the CliffsNotes version. My cousin Jules married Nate. Nate’s dad owned a gym in downtown Seattle, but he recently retired, and Ben bought it. Ben is Matt’s wife’s best friend.”
I blink at him, not following at all.
“I’m gonna need a diagram. I think your family tree is more confusing than mine.”
“There are days I need a diagram, too.”
“Well, whoever Ben is, I like him.”* * *“I can’t believe you’ve never been here,” Archer says later that evening. We’re sitting in the dining room at the resort’s restaurant. It sits on the cliffs, looking out over the Pacific Ocean. We have a window seat where we can watch the birds and sea life below.
“I came to the resort for a massage a few years ago,” I reply and sip my crisp white wine. “That’s how I met Lindsey. But I’ve never had a reason to come up for anything else. Certainly not a fancy dinner.”
“The steak’s good.”
I grin. “My salmon was great, too.”
“I know.” He eyes the last of my apple pie. “I stole a bite when you went to the restroom. Are you going to finish that?”
“Yes.” I eat the pie and watch as his eyes round and then look sad. “Aw, poor guy.”
“It’s okay, I’ll take some home for later.”
We don’t hurry. When more wine is offered, we accept it and linger over the candlelight and conversation.
“How are your parents?” I ask, realizing that I haven’t inquired about them before this.
“Good,” he says. “Dad had a heart attack last year. Gave us a scare. But he’s recovered, and Mom has him eating mostly rabbit food, much to his dismay.”
“I always liked them,” I murmur. “I’m glad that everyone is doing so well and that your dad recovered from his heart attack.”
I regret not being there for Archer during what I know was probably a terrifying time.
“Why did you sell your fishing boat?”
He sips his wine. “I was offered a lot of money from one of the bigger operations. I was sick of spending the majority of the year at sea, away from the family. It was time to be a land dweller, and real estate always interested me.”
“We used to spend hours driving past places for sale,” I say, remembering back. “And going on that Parade of Homes, daydreaming our way through gorgeous places.”
“I still do that,” he says. “I love what I do now. It’s not nearly as smelly, the income is steadier, and I’m around for the family whenever they need me.”
