Page 20 of Sigh of Relief

Elton braced his other arm against the wall beside his head, all of that big body surrounding him, their hips grinding in unison, and Elton’s lips inching toward his mouth, sharpening into a point of desire like nothing Archer had ever felt before.

He was coming apart, and he wanted to do that in his bed, with Elton stretched over him, his bare skin under Archer’s hands and his dick pounding inside him. Not here against this wall but fuck if he had the willpower to push Elton off him right then.

A high-pitched whistle did the trick.

Elton jumped back like he’d been burned and glanced over his shoulder to see who it was. When he realized it was just some of Archer’s family stumbling from around back, he stepped close once more, hiding both their turned-on states. “I thought my friends were bad.”

“Venture a guess mine are worse.”

“I’d take that bet.”

Archer returned the laugh, imagining what kind of trouble Elton’s lot could get up to, allowing that to distract him momentarily from Elton’s initial reaction. Then allowing Sloan, who was draped against her best friend Miller’s side, to distract him further. “Since you two are still here,” she called, “can we get a lift down to the barn?”

“Where are Al and CC?”

“Helping Ty to stand.”

“Your CEO?” Elton said.

“Sure you want to take that bet?” Archer challenged, then after a quick glance down to confirm neither of them would embarrass themselves, gave Elton a gentle shove. “How many glasses of wine did you have tonight?”

“Just two.”

“Can you get them down to the barn while I help the others?” At Elton’s nod, he reached into his pocket for his keys, handing them to Elton with the third key on the ring singled out. “That’s for the cabin. I’ll be right behind you.”

Elton palmed the keys, heat flaring once more in those dark eyes. “I’ll be waiting.”

Chapter Thirteen

Elton’s alarm was trilling.

From the wrong side of the bed.

Maybe he’d left it on the other⁠—

Twisting toward the sound, his train of thought and his body hit a solid wall of warmth.

He opened his eyes and met a pair of sparkling, wide-awake hazel ones in the early morning light.

Realization dawned and he cursed, eyelids fluttering closed in embarrassment. “I fell asleep before you got back, didn’t I?”

Archer held his phone out to him. “Make this thing stop, and I’ll forgive you.”

Elton entered the code required to do anything on his phone and silenced the alarm. He twisted half around, tossed the device on the nightstand, then rolled back to face the smirking winemaker whose bed he’d fallen asleep in last night while waiting for him to return. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“You were snoring so peacefully.” Archer chuckled, and Elton reached out to touch the sneaky dimple beneath his salt-and-pepper beard, to investigate and confirm it was real. Archer’s voice was both rougher and softer when he spoke again. “What time were you up yesterday morning?”

“Five-thirty flight,” Elton said as he mentally cataloged everywhere else that he and Archer were touching.

His chest, bumping into Archer’s whenever they inhaled at the same time, the thin fabric of his tee no match for the heat of Archer’s bare skin.

His legs, naked and tangling with Archer’s, sliding along hard muscle and coarse hair, the sensation new and electrifying.

His aching cock, tenting his boxers and pressing against Archer’s hip as the wave of desire that had been riding him for months crested, drawing them even closer.

Maybe now.

“So you were up at three,” Archer was saying. “Two, even, no wonder⁠—”