“With pleasure.” His voice rumbles deep in his chest, vibrating through me. “You were so beautiful, Archie, trembling and moaning with pleasure. It was a wondrous sight.”
“Something to put in a book?”
He clears his throat.
I wish I could look at him, but without my glasses, he'll only be a blur, so I keep my eyes closed. "Am I missing something?"
“I might already be writing a book inspired by you.”
“A Lee Lawson book?”
"Yes." His voice is gruff, like a bear who's been caught with his paw in a honey pot.
“Can I read it?”
“It’s not finished.”
“So? Read it to me, please, Sir?”
“Now?”
I let out a happy sigh. “Yes. Hold me and read to me.”
“All right, but let’s take a shower first.”
“My legs are jelly thanks to you.”
“I’ll hold you up.”
Dear God, I believe he can and he will. I’m happy to lean on him as we walk to the en suite. He turns the shower on, supporting me until it’s hot enough for us to step under. He props me up against the tiled wall, as he washes the oil from my skin with soap. I can’t see him properly, but I still know how stunning he is, my big bear of a man, who just reduced me to a puddle and is now taking such good care of me.
Once he’s finished washing me down, he holds me to his chest and presses soft kisses to my head as the water continues to rain down on us. I stroke my hand over his back and arse, loving the way his damp fur sticks to his skin. I’m still groggy and tired but also insanely happy.
Eventually, he turns the shower off, helps me out, and then dries me just like he did earlier in the day. He takes his time, gently rubbing every inch of skin. I groan as he dries my cock and balls, but I’m too tired to truly become aroused, no matter how nice it feels.
Naked, we go back to the bedroom, and he tucks me up in bed.
“Rest,” he whispers. “I won’t be long.”
He kisses my cheek and then leaves the room. I doze in his absence, hugging the pillow his head was on to my chest just so I can breathe in his scent.
He comes back with sweet biscuits and warm milk. He puts my glasses back on me and helps me to sit. I lean against him, soaking up everything about him as I eat a biscuit and drink the milk. Both help to give me a little more energy so I feel less wobbly and shaky. Hamish clears everything away, sweeps the crumbs from the bed, and then fetches his laptop. He dims the screen as far as it will go and loops an arm around my shoulders. I lie with my head on his stomach, eyes closed as he starts to read.
He clears his throat. “Archer and His Bear." He announces the title grandly like he's reading the winner of an Oscar.
“Archer and His Bear?” I chuckle.
“I was fooling myself into believing Iwasn’twriting about us.”
“Did it work?”
“No.”
“When did you start this?”
“The day I interviewed you.”
A smile creeps over my lips. “That’s when I fell for you too.”
