Page 112 of Flirty Dancing

They smiled as they faced each other across the board, fingers poised to grab their first piece.

“Ready, go!” Dominik yelled. They laughed, jammed their pieces in one at a time in a red and yellow blur, then Archer threw up his hands in celebration when he got four in a row.

“Damn it,” Mateo growled, although he was smiling. “I’ll get you next time.”

Archer won the second time they played each other, and the third.

Mateo sighed and offered Archer a salute after his third defeat. “Guess you’ve got my number.”

“Guess so.” Archer’s heart throbbed.

When the tournament ended and Dominik was declared champion—“Who’s the loser now, Betty?” he gloated—Archer went to the bathroom and to grab another beer. When he came back, Mateo was nowhere to be found.Probably went to bed again. Smart.He shook his head to clear it and joined in a conversation with the others, but it was futile. All he could think about was Mateo. He had barely noticed that the cabin had started to thin out as people finished their drinks and went to bed themselves, until Betty yawned and said she was turning in, too. An image of Mateo in bed flashed behind Archer’s eyes, stretched out… naked, skin glowing against stark white sheets…

The cabin suddenly felt oppressively warm. Archer said good night to Betty and went out onto the porch in search of a cool breeze off the lake. But it wasn’t much cooler out there, the heat of the day lingering and no breeze to be found. He leaned on the railing and blew out a breath, head spinning. The screen door slammed from around the corner and feet thumped down the stairs as another handful headed back to the dorms. Then it was still again, only a few crickets chirping to accompany his thoughts.Maybe when we get back to Manhattan, he consoled himself.Maybe then.

A creak from the shadows at the far end of the porch interrupted his thoughts. He turned and peered into the darkness. There was Mateo, sitting on the wide railing, leaning back on a thick post, one leg folded under him, one dangling.

“Oh, hi,” Archer said, mouth turning to dust. “I thought you went to bed.”

“I did,” Mateo said in a low rumble. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Archer’s feet traveled over toward Mateo on their own accord, then he hopped onto the railing and mirrored Mateo’s pose against the other post. “Wallowing in your Connect 4 defeat?” he teased.

Mateo’s laugh was like syrup, thick and slow. His gaze swung from the lake back to Archer.

“We’re ready for the finale, I think,” Archer said, choosing a safe topic for discussion. “Don’t you?”

“Yeah.” Time slowed down as Mateo slid off his seat and moved closer to Archer. He leaned against the railing, his hip touching Archer’s bent knee. “I hope so.”

Archer swallowed hard, giving into his impulse to reach over and squeeze Mateo’s hand. “You’ve done an amazing job getting us there.”

Their eyes met. The heat sent a charge of goose bumps over his skin, an overwhelming tingle that reached deep into every cell. The shadows slid over Mateo’s face as he shuffled closer, highlighting the ridge of his eyebrows and lips. Then he shuffled closer still until he was between Archer’s legs, his hip resting against Archer’s dangling leg.

Archer dared to hold the gaze, even though he knew it would set him on fire. And it did, a scorching, exhilarating burn that turned his skin to ash before the embers licked at his core.

Heart thudding, blood boiling, his throat closed and his soul shrieked with need. His brain grasped to make sense of the moment, and all it could come up with wasMateo Dixon is standing between my legs. The smell of Mateo’s sweat and deodorant and skin filled his lungs—forest and sunshine—and he wanted to drown in it all.

Their eyes were still locked, the moment stretching out until it was too thin to hold. It broke. A whimper escaped Archer’s lips. And Mateo kissed him.

The kiss swallowed Archer’s next whimper, then a sigh.

Their lips danced—leading, following, in perfect sync, just as the rest of their bodies were so accustomed to doing. Mateo’s tongue was strong and slick as it pushed into hismouth. Archer groaned and threaded a hand into Mateo’s thick hair, the other taking hold of Mateo’s ass and pulling him even closer. His legs grasped Mateo’s hips.

Mateo’s arms slid around him, fingers gripping the back of his neck, a growl rumbling from his chest and sending sparks along every nerve ending Archer had.

Mateo’s hardness pressed against his when he rocked his hips forward, the need between them molten and undeniable. It was heaven. Joy. Pure bliss.

Then Mateo ripped himself away, stumbling backward a step. “Fuck,” he gasped as they stared at each other, chests heaving. “Fuck.” He spun on his heel and bolted along the length of the deck and down the stairs.

“Mateo—” was the only word Archer could force from his lips, head swirling, blood long since drained from his brain.

But Mateo was gone, the wordsorryechoing with the thumps on the stairs.

Archer blinked at the dark, silent porch.Oh, hell no,he decided and jumped off the railing, running after him. There was no sign of Mateo anywhere—the shoreline was empty, no one on the paths. But he knew where Mateo had gone.

Archer was panting when he arrived at the clearing. Mateo was sitting on the jutting rock, staring out at the lake. He must have heard Archer coming, but he didn’t move.

“You had to come all the way up here?” Archer gasped.

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