It felt so fucking good that Archer bit his lip, horrified that he might actually moan with pleasure. He certainly hoped he didn’t look as flustered as he felt. Mateo touched him all the time during their dances, of course, but something about the smooth, slippery rubbing on his bare back … “Thanks,” he rasped when Mateo was done.

“I think I got everywhere,” Mateo said, handing the bottle back to him. “Didn’t want to miss any spots.”

“Yeah.” Archer’s heart was pounding against his rib cage. “I don’t think you did.”

Mateo was right there for him, all day. Carrying his things, bringing him lunch, and reapplying sunscreen in the afternoon.

“I could get used to this.” Archer grinned when Mateo held the door to the theater open for him on their way in. “I like having you around.”

“I like being around,” Mateo said, softly—so softly that Archer was not sure he was meant to hear it.

Archer turned to smile at him. “Well, I guess you’re off duty now. It was nice while it lasted.”

“Yeah.” Mateo looked down at his feet, then back up at Archer. “You heading down to the cabin tonight after the show?”

Archer grinned. “Yeah. See you there?”

“See you there.”

Archer showered quickly but spent a bit longer than normal choosing his late evening post-show outfit, going with a red shirt and beige shorts that looked good against his glowing tan. He stared at himself in the mirror while he fussed with his hair, which was now a little longer than he had kept it in Manhattan. There was a strange feeling brewing inside him, some energy that was building, tingling, and seeking an outlet of some sort, telling him to … do something.

I can’t do anything though, Archer’s brain argued. I can’t be the cause of another disaster breakup that destroys what we’ve built back up.

But the feeling was still there.

When he got to the cabin, he spotted Mateo right away on the couch with a few of the others. He looked gorgeous, a loose, easy smile on his face, hair wet, lounging with one long, sculpted arm stretched out along the back, legs sprawled, and a buttery-soft olive green T-shirt hugging his every muscle. Archer grabbed a beer from the fridge and sat next to Mateo.

“Hey.” Mateo clinked their bottles together. His dark, smoldering eyes bored into Archer’s.

“Hey.” Archer took a sip, not looking away.

Betty flopped onto the couch next to Archer. “Ah, what a day.” She sighed happily. She patted Archer’s leg. “Thanks to you.”

Archer forced himself to look at Betty. “What did you get up to? I didn’t see you all day.”