“I have a plan. Don’t worry.”
***
“This is your plan?” I ask, looking around the nature trail.
He grins at me. “Not what you had in mind?”
“Not exactly dressed for it,” I tell him, grabbing the lapel of my jacket.
Archer freezes in his tracks, looking down at his own clothes. He’s frowning when he looks back up. “Getting dressed up for a date is half the fun.”
“Being prepared to walk a hundred miles without blisters would probably be better.”
I know I sound a little bitter, but I wanted him on his back or up on his knees and elbows with his ass in the air. Hell, I would’ve settled for a dark, secluded, comfortable place where I could tease him relentlessly until he begged me to take him back to the room.
“Who would’ve imagined you’re the type of man who can’t go with the flow.”
I release a low sigh, feeling like a complete jackass for not taking his needs into consideration.
“I just figured you’d want to be out in public.”
I start to walk ahead, but he stops me with a hand on my arm. “This isn’t for show.”
I blink down at him, noting the nervous clench of his jaw, or maybe it’s irritation, and I know I’m ruining this for him.
Not for show.
It’s a real date.
Part of me wants to rejoice in that because I’m obsessed with what we did last night and the blow jobs the night before, but I also really enjoy just spending time with the man. The months leading up to him getting on his knees for me have been some of the best times ever. Yeah, it’s filled with annoyance and frustration, but that had more to do with fighting what I’ve been feeling for him than anything else. I’ve put myself in his path on hundreds of occasions just to resist him. Now that I’ve given in, I don’t know what to do with myself.
“Okay,” I tell him, although I have no idea what I’m agreeing to.
When he starts to walk again, he seems more distant than he’s ever been, but I can’t speak my mind. I can’t tell him that the way he makes me feel terrifies me, and it has more to do with never having these types of feelings before and less having to do with him being a man.
I’ve always been able to pivot, redirect my energy. It’s sort of a requirement in my line of work because it deals with other people, and always predicting their behavior accurately is next to impossible.
He makes me feel good. The sex has been phenomenal. I can get behind all of that.
The emotional side? That’s a little harder for me to deal with.
That never really came in to play.
Yeah, I had a few semi-serious relationships in college, but they fizzled quickly. I’ve never been able to give myself a hundred percent to anyone. Those women came to that conclusion early on and had no problem seeking out someone else. It was a relief, even if I was blindsided by it. Apparently, an entire relationship can’t be built on sex.
The fact that I see Archer Bremen as more than just what happens in the bedroom is going to be a problem for both of us.
“I thought you enjoyed the picnic in the park,” he says as we push past a low-hanging tree branch to step into a clearing.
“Wow,” I say, the word low and full of awe.
We’re standing on a bluff overlooking a body of water. City lights sparkle in the distance, making me feel both close to the people living there yet still far away.
“I didn’t think the walk was going to be that far. The map I pulled up made it seem—”
“This is perfect,” I interrupt.
“And?” he prompts, his eyebrow raised and a sly grin on his face.
“And I’m sorry for complaining.”
“I realized very early on that you’re not the type of man who easily hands over control.”
I can’t argue with that. Up until a few months ago, I was a man who took pride in always being on top, making the decisions, controlling the narrative. Archer has somehow managed to change all of that, and it’s left me a little off balance.
“We can sit, but I understand if you don’t want to get your suit dirty.”
“I can always take it off,” I tease, knowing full well I’m not going to get naked in the woods.
He bites his lip as if he’s seriously considering it.
“Have I told you just how much seeing you always so prim and proper turns me on?”
“You haven’t.”
“Ever since that first day,” he confides.
“Yeah?”
“But I also want to see you dressed down in jeans or maybe just a pair of sweats. Possibly in a shirt that doesn’t have buttons.”
Archer takes a seat on the ground, somehow looking right at home despite the slacks and button-down shirt he’s wearing. I don’t hesitate to join him when he reaches a hand up to me.