“Such as?” Archer prompted, though he knew exactly what barriers remained.
“Such as the fact that I still haven’t seen your face,” Morgan pointed out gently. “That I know almost nothing about your life beyond what you’ve chosen to share. That we literally just met and are moving at warp speed.”
All valid points, all reasonable concerns. Archer couldn’t argue with her logic, even as something in his chest tightened at the implied rejection.
“I understand,” he said, working to keep disappointment from his voice. “The offer stands, regardless. Whenever you want it.”
Morgan shifted, moving up until her face was level with his in the darkness. “I’m not saying no,” she clarified. “I’m saying not yet. Not until we’ve figured out a few more pieces of this puzzle we’re building together.”
The qualification eased something in Archer’s chest. “Fair enough.”
“But I’ll stay the weekend,” she added, pressing a kiss to the approximate location of his chin in the darkness. “And maybe a few days next week, to see how it feels.”
It was a reasonable compromise—a step rather than a leap. Archer nodded, though she probably couldn’t see the gesture. “I’d like that.”
They lay together in comfortable silence as the first true light of dawn began to filter through the windows. Soon, Archer would need to move away from her, to don his helmet or retreat to the bathroom until she closed her eyes again.
But for now, in these last precious moments of darkness, he could hold her without barriers, skin to skin, face to face though invisible to one another.
“Morgan,” he said softly, the words coming from somewhere deeper than calculated thought, “I’m falling for you. Hard and fast and completely. I need you to know that.”
Her sharp intake of breath was audible in the quiet room. Then her hands found his face in the darkness, palms cradling his cheeks, thumbs tracing the contours her eyes had never seen.
“I’m falling for you too,” she whispered. “Despite every rational reason not to.”
He held her close as they kissed and she eventually drifted to sleep in his arms, and in that moment, with dawn approaching and reality waiting to reassert itself, Archer made a decision. Soon—not immediately, but in the next few days—he would tell Morgan the truth. About who he was, about Sullivan Enterprises, about the Vertex Creativeacquisition in the works. Lay out what she needed to know for a relationship like theirs to work.
The potential consequences were significant. Her anger at being kept in the dark. The possibility that she might see him differently once she knew his true identity. The complications his wealth and position would introduce to her day-to-day life.
But the alternative—continuing this half-connection, this relationship built on partial truths—was becoming increasingly unsustainable. Morgan deserved more. They both did.
For now, though, he would savor this moment, this connection, this woman who had somehow breached his carefully constructed defenses in the span of a single week.
The rest would sort itself out in time.
18
Morgan
Morgan woke to the delicious aroma of coffee and the sound of movement in the kitchen. The blinds were open and sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, bathing the bedroom in warm golden light. She stretched languidly, her body pleasantly sore from the night’s—and early morning’s—activities.
The memories of dawn flooded back, bringing a flush to her cheeks. Their whispered confessions in the darkness, the breathtaking intimacy they’d shared, his unexpected invitation for her to stay longer. It had all felt like a dream, yet the rumpled sheets and the lingering scent of him on her skin confirmed it had been wonderfully real.
“I’m falling for you too. Despite every rational reason not to.”
Her own words echoed in her mind. She’d meant them, completely and without reservation. In just one week, this mysterious man had become central to her world, reshaping her priorities and challenging her expectations of what a relationship could be.
The bedroom door opened slightly, and Archer’s voice—unfiltered—came through the crack. “Are you awake?”
“Yes,” Morgan replied, pulling the sheet up to cover herself, though after the intimacy they’d shared, the modesty seemed almost comical.
She was surprised when he entered. Instead of the helmet, he had on the sunglasses and fabric covering his lower face. His deep chestnut hair catching the light that made pieces of it look auburn.
He had two plain white mugs in his hands, and as he got closer, he sat on the side of the bed closest to her and placed one of the warm mugs in her hand before tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“I brought you coffee,” he said, his voice deep and warm.
“My hero,” Morgan replied with a smile, taking in his hair and the small glimpses of his facial features that he was willing to share.
