Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
“What’ve you got there?”
Glass in hand, Archer paused over the threshold and admired the handsome man in his bed.
Reclining against the headboard, Elton filled more than half the bed.
Shoulders wide, chest broad, legs long, Elton’s big body was a thing of beauty.
And remembering that big body at his feet, then standing over him as he came on Archer’s chest, made Archer’s cock start to improbably plump again.
Elton chuckled, drawing Archer’s attention back to his bare chest, which was still damp from the shower they’d enjoyed together.
“Shut it,” Archer grumbled as he made his way across the room to the bed. He scooted onto the mattress and gave the rocks glass a little shake, jostling the whiskey cubes in the two fingers’ worth of pale gold liquid. “This is what I did to distract myself today.”
“Is that . . .”
Archer nodded and handed the glass to Elton. “It’s got a long way to go, which is why it’s that color and why it’s on ice. It’s basically just moonshine at this point.”
“Stop apologizing before I’ve even tried it.” He waved the glass under his nose and inhaled, his eyes slipping shut.
Archer took the opportunity to really study him.
When he’d first arrived, Elton had mostly been in shadow and Archer had been totally in his head about Daniela and Miguel.
Once he’d known they were safe, he’d been in Elton’s arms the next second, relief and desire blinding.
But now, with time and lamplight, Archer couldn’t help but notice the deeper creases at the corners of Elton’s eyes, the darker bags under them, and the stubble on his jaw that had felt amazing earlier but was not the norm for the clean-shaven assistant director. “You look tired,” he said quietly.
Elton tried the whiskey, a small sip at first, then a longer one.
He didn’t gasp at the heat that had made Archer’s eyes water, didn’t make any sounds or gestures at all.
He didn’t even open his eyes. Just rested the glass on his thigh and leaned more heavily against the headboard.
“I’d be lying if I said this hasn’t been the hardest four months of my entire career. ”
So many questions fought to be asked at the tip of Archer’s tongue.
Was there an end to the hard times in sight?
How did he get out of bed and do his job every day?
Which ultimately led to the question he did ask, his conversation with Ezra last month giving it the edge over all the others.
“Have you ever thought about not doing this job?”
“I did,” Elton said. “Years ago when it cost me my marriage.” He took another long sip, then handed the glass back to Archer.
Who drowned his tangle of lingering questions with the whiskey.
Elton looked too tired for an inquisition about his past, and besides, Archer was more concerned with the present, with the Elton Moore who was in his bed a second time.
Who he wanted there a third, fourth, fifth time, and more. “And now?”
He opened his eyes, his dark gaze pinning Archer to the spot. “I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been thinking about that now too. A lot.”
The unspoken caveat was impossible to ignore. “But?”
“But it also feels like I have a duty to stay and fight. There are fewer and fewer of us who believe in right and wrong, in freedom and justice. If we leave, who’s left to protect democracy? How do we not descend into chaos?”
Archer handed him back the whiskey and was unsurprised when Elton finished the rest; he needed it.
Once he lowered the glass, Archer plucked it from his hand and set it on the bedside table.
“C’mere,” he said, tugging Elton back down onto the mattress with him.
Holding him and offering what comfort he could.
“I admire you for fighting. I want to try to do more too.”
Elton wrapped his arms around him and sighed, tension seeping from his frame. “Don’t discount what you do already. You, Ezra, and Noah make this a safe haven. For your staff, your friends and family, for me. I missed this place.” He dropped a kiss on his temple and held him tighter. “And you.”
“I missed you too.” He absently glided his fingers over the hard lines of Elton’s chest. “I have no right to ask, but I don’t want to go that long without you again.”
Elton covered his hand with his. Squeezed so he’d look up.
“You have every right to ask. You told me what you want, what you need, and I want the same. With you. That’s the last time I’ll be gone that long.
” He dipped his chin, and Archer craned up for the offered kiss, the offered future.
Elton’s lips curved against his. “Especially if there’s more of that whiskey. It’s delicious.”
“Because I’m good at what I do.”
Elton gently slapped his ass. “There’s my cocky grump.”
He smiled wider, Elton’s my sending a wave of warmth crashing through him.
A sense of belonging, here in this bed with Elton and here on this property.
In what he did every day. “I’m a farmer and a blender,” he said.
“Whether it’s wine or whiskey, here or in Lompoc, and no matter what Mother Nature throws at me, I roll with it. ”
“Very Gen X of you.”
He propped his chin on his hand on Elton’s chest, then rolled his eyes with a muttered “Whatever” that made them both laugh.
They eventually quieted, gazes still locked, something in Elton’s dark stare searching. For direction? Or maybe for just a reciprocal shot of the same confidence he’d given Archer?
Clasping one of his hands, Archer drew it up, kissed his knuckles, then tucked it between his hands, before resting his chin atop them.
“I’m good at what I do,” he said. “And so are you. I’ve seen you with your friends, my friends, my staff, and others in town.
Your way with people is a skill, Elton. You’re magnetic, and that’s all you, no matter your title or your boss. Don’t discount that either.”