Page 20 of Pucking Curves

“You married me.” She tosses her hair over her shoulder, one corner of her lips lifting into a saucy smirk. “Now, you get to put up with my bullshit.”

She turns to head inside, but I grab her, hauling her back against my chest. My lips land against her ear before I nip the shell of it.

“Don’t start a game you can’t win, baby girl,” I growl against her skin. “I’ll have you bent over and screaming for your husband so loud and so often, it’ll be the only word you remember for the next week.”

She whimpers softly, her body melting against mine for a split second. And then she seems to remember that she’s supposed to be giving me hell because she pulls herself out of my arms. Her eyes meet mine over her shoulder.

“Promises, promises,” she says before sashaying toward her house, her hips swaying.

I tip my head back, groaning up at the sky. But I don’t follow her inside. I’m not a complete idiot. I know damn well that I don’t have that kind of control, and I meant what I said. When I’m inside her for the first time, it’ll be in our bed.

“What is with you guys and your ridiculously large houses?” Wren mutters an hour later, shaking her head as she strolls around the kitchen, touching everything she can get her hands on.

“You don’t like the house?” I ask, actually worried about it. I bought this place six months ago with her in mind. The Cape Cod house isn’t ostentatious but is big enough for a family, with plenty of room to spread out.

The heated pool out back is fucking magical. It looks like a little oasis with a waterfall spilling down rocks on one side. She grew up near water. I wanted her to have the option here without having to drive to a public beach.

“It’s beautiful,” she says, glancing at me over her shoulder. “I just think it’s funny that single guys buy these massive houses.”

“Maybe we’re hopeful.”

A question reflects in her gaze.

“Some of us want families.” I shrug, leaning back against the island. “Maybe that’s what we’re planning for when we buy them.”

“Trust me, that is not what Micah was thinking when he bought his house. He didn’t want to drag a wife into this way of life until he met Elodie and realized he couldn’t live without her.” Something drifts through her gaze that I can’t read. “I always worried that was my fault.”

“Why would it be your fault, little bird?”

“You don’t know?”

I shake my head, my brows furrowed. I know Micah feels bad about the way she was raised, running all over the country for his games and shit, but his decisions aren’t her responsibility.

“I almost drowned when I was ten,” she whispers, and my blood runs cold. Jesus. “He’d just been drafted, and I thought…I don’t know.” She shrugs helplessly. “I guess I thought if I got into hockey like he was, he’d come home, our parents would stop fighting, and life would go back to normal. So I went out to this pond that had frozen over, determined to teach myself how to skate. He’d tried to teach me a dozen times, but I was always too clumsy.” Her lips twitch at the memory. “Anyway, I went out there to learn, but the ice was already thawing. I fell through it. By the time they pulled me out, I wasn’t breathing.”

“Jesus Christ,” I rasp, my heart hammering against my ribcage.

“I remember waking up in the hospital with him at my bedside in tears. He was so mad at me,” she whispers. “And so upset. He felt like he was the reason I was out there, like I wouldn’t have taken that risk if hockey hadn’t been our whole life growing up. It’s bothered him ever since.” She shrugs again, clearly uncomfortable with the memory. “I think that’s when he decided he didn’t want to get married.”

I stare at her for a long moment, fitting the pieces together in my mind. Trying to imagine…but I fucking can’t. She was just a kid. No wonder Micah is so protective of her. No wonder he feels guilty. Jesus. He’s going to lose his mind when he finds out we’re married.

“But then he met Elodie, and she changed his mind,” Wren continues, a soft smile overtaking her face. “She made him realize that love is worth the risk, I guess. He’s so happy with her and Tatum.”

“Yeah, he is.” I clear my throat, uneasy about my decision to keep the truth from him for the first time. It isn’t right. I fucking know it isn’t. “Maybe we should tell him about us.”

Her gaze flies to mine, her mouth open in shock. “He’ll kill us both, Archer,” she says, shaking her head. Panic flits through her expression. “No way. We’re going to pretend everything is normal until we annul this marriage and then…and then…”

I stalk across the kitchen toward her, instantly pissed at how easily she talks about unraveling our marriage. “And then what?” I ask, stopping in front of her. “We pretend that we never happened? That we were just a mistake?”

“I…”

“What if I can’t pretend, little bird?” I tip her chin up, forcing her to look me in the eyes. “What if I don’t think we’re a mistake?”

“You don’t mean that,” she whispers.

“Says who?” I arch a brow, holding her gaze. “You feel what’s between us, Wren. I know you felt it at their wedding. You’ve felt it every time we’ve been in a room together since that weekend.”

“Archer, please,” she pleads quietly, desperately. But I don’t want to give her the out she’s begging for. I want her to feel it. I want her to see what’s right in front of her.

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