Page 28 of The Puck Decoy

“Barely, I only gave him a few crushed up pills in his drink, it’s not my fault he shit himself so bad,” I toss back, low key wishing I’d have done a lot worse. “That’s what he gets for being a fucking pervert, you were fifteen, besides your dad thought it was hilarious.”

“What did you do to Joey?” she grits, not sounding as amused by the storytelling as I am.

“Nothing.”

“Joshua.”

“Nothing, I swear.”

“Remember the second rule on our contract?” she fumes, reminding me of the little agreement we signed on her notepad.

“No lying,” I huff out, knowing she isn’t going to let this go until I tell the truth. “Fine, I broke his arm.”

“Josh!”

“What? He fucking deserved it, Tink. You should have heard the fucking shit he was saying about you, about what you guys got up to. I couldn’t stand hearing it, so yeah, I broke his arm and told him to stay the hell away from you. You’re welcome.”

I hear her quick intake of breath and I know I’ve fucked up somewhere, I just don’t know where. “He told people stuff?” she finally mutters into the dark.

My brain instantly goes on the offense and blocks out all the bragging about how tight and untouched she was, as I grit my teeth. “Yeah, of course he did, he was an asshole.”

More silence lingers, and I wish I could see her face right now so I could gauge how she is taking all of this. “And you did that for me?” she asks, almost sounding shocked. I don’t know why, I’ve always had her back.

“I’d do anything for you, Hals, you know that,” I tell her truthfully.

“Thank you.” Her voice cracks a little on her words, and all I want to do is pull her into my arms and make her feel better, but I know how she is about physical touch, and I’m sure just laying in the same bed as me is difficult for her to manage.

“You’re welcome, now stop talking about your boyfriends, I thought we already covered that your newhusbandis a psycho,” I joke, aiming to lift the mood, and finally she laughs, turning away from me.

“Goodnight, Mr. Peters,” she sighs into the dark, as I stare up at the ceiling, still not believing we are here right now.

Yet still I smile as I reply, “Goodnight, Mrs. Peters.”

Warmth surrounds my entire body. I feel safe, wanted, needed, cozy even, as my eyes flutter from their deep slumber. My bed is a lot comfier than I recall, and my blanket is more weighted than I remember, but it’s so welcome. I feel like I am waking up from the most rested night's sleep I have ever had. It’s only when I roll my body to appreciate my comfort that I feel something long and hard against my ass, and my eyes snap open. I’m not at home, I’m at Josh’s house, in his room, in his bed, with him, as his wife.

The warmth is him, his entire body is molded against mine, his arm slung loosely over my waist, his nose nestled neatly into my hair. I can feel him everywhere, and I do mean everywhere, every part of him. His breathing is even and flat so I know he is still asleep, which means I know he doesn’t mean to be cuddledup to me right now, and I’m sure he definitely doesn’t mean the erection he is sporting right now too. Yet that doesn’t mean I can’t feel it, and it sets every fantasy I have ever had about him on fire in my mind.

I roll my body again, this time pushing my ass out a little just to see what he is working with, and almost moan out loud as his long, thick length presses against me even more. Damn, no wonder the rumor mill is always running rampant about him, if that’s what he is toting around inside his pants. I bet he could satisfy every girl on campus with it. Just the thought has me wiggling against it again, teasing no one but myself, but before I can let my mind run too far away from itself I am startled.

“Should I always expect to wake up to my wife rubbing her ass on me, or is this a one-off?” Josh purrs in a sexy, gruff, still half-asleep tone, and I throw myself away from him so fast that I fall off the bed onto the floor.

He doesn’t even flinch.

“I was not rubbing my ass on you,” I lie boldly, forcing myself to jump to my feet and act casual, while the bastard is still lying in the same position, and all he does is cock one eye open to glare at me in disbelief. “I was trying to escape you, you were the one who was on my side of the bed with your arm wrapped around me,” I accuse, flipping the situation back onto him.

This time he rolls his eyes, rolling onto his back, and his side of the bed, as the sheet falls down and reveals his delicious strip of abs. “It’s my bed, all the sides are mine,” he declares with a yawn, and I want to punch him in his stupid, pretty face.

“I hate you,” I tell him, and he smiles.

“No you don’t,” he gleams, putting both hands behind his head as he watches me squirm, but all I can focus on is the flex of his muscles.

“Then I severely dislike you,” I amend, as I stomp towards his bedroom door in desperate need to get away from him.

“Now that’s not even slightly true,” he muses, sitting up and running his hands through his hair. “And where the hell are you going?” He flips the sheet off his lower half and then stands, stretching upwards, and it takes everything in me not to drool.

“To get coffee, I can’t deal with you when I haven’t even caffeinated yet, I might murder you.” I throw open his bedroom door in the hopes of escaping him, but he is hot on my heels as I head down to the kitchen.

“Death by dick punch seems like a terrible way to go,” he jokes, as I come to a halt on the threshold to find the kitchen already occupied. “What the fuck are you guys still doing here?” Josh grumbles, taking in Archer and Alexander sitting at the breakfast bar, and Daemon standing by the fridge silently watching them.

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