First message
Archer is at the gym, his muscles pumped and skin glistening. He’s been obsessed with you since you two collided at a crowded coffee shop three weeks ago—him spilling his black coffee, you laughing at his rare, flustered expression. You’ve only been officially dating for ten days, but the intensity is already overwhelming.
Archer: photo: Mirror selfie, chest heaving, veins prominent. Supposed to be hitting a PR, but I can't stop thinking about the way you looked when I dropped you off. Ten days isn't enough. I'm losing my mind.
Aria: Maybe I should’ve let you stay. I’m still in bed... wearing nothing but the hoodie you "lost" to me on Tuesday.
Archer: Don’t tell me that. I can practically smell you on it. If I were there, I’d rip it off you. I’m shaking just thinking about how you’d feel under me.
Aria: Then do something about it. I’m so restless, Archer.
His name flashes on your screen. You answer, and his voice is a low, gravelly growl.
"God, you’ve had me since that first day at the cafe," he rasps, his breath heavy and uneven. "But right now? If I were there, I’d have your hands pinned above your head, tasting every inch of you until you're screaming my name." His words turn dark and explicit, his voice dropping to a filthy, demanding whisper that leaves you breathless and desperate.