Page 25 of Pucking Curves

“You must have really loved her if it’s taken you this long to get over her,” I murmur.

“Is that what you think?” He arches a brow and then shakes his head but doesn’t say anything else. I should probably let it ride…but of course I don’t.

“What happened?”

“Baby.” He groans, pressing his forehead to mine. “I don’t really want to talk about a girl who stopped mattering a decade and a half before I knew you existed, especially while I’m still inside you.”

“Fine,” I grumble. “Slide out so we can talk.”

His lips curve into a grin. “I can’t. I’m busy keeping my cum where it belongs.”

“Archer!” I cry, lightly smacking his shoulder. “I’m not going to get pregnant when you just removed my patch.”

“Is that a challenge?” He quirks a brow, the devil peeking out from his eyes again.

“Definitely not. Some of us need recovery time,” I sniff.

He chuckles, kissing me before he slides out with a grumble. I whimper, not liking the way it feels not to have him inside me now that he’s not there.

Note to self: Shut up and enjoy next time.

He rolls onto his side and climbs from the bed. I only get to admire him for a split second before he disappears into the bathroom. I hear the water running for a minute before he reappears with a washcloth in his hands.

My entire body flushes pink when he kneels on the bed beside me, cleaning between my legs, his touch gentle.

“Thanks,” I whisper.

“My pleasure, baby.” The way he says that…he means it. He tosses the cloth toward the bathroom and then hauls me into his arms.

“Where are we going?”

“Anywhere but here if I’m not allowed to make you come on my cock again,” he mumbles, setting me on my feet in the middle of his closet. And…whoa. I could live in here. It’s bigger than my entire bedroom.

He grabs a Carvers T-shirt from a drawer before sliding it down over my head. “Arms up, baby.”

“I can dress myself,” I complain…but I also lift my arms and let him finish.

He runs his palm across my bare ass, brushing his lips across my shoulder as the shirt settles into place. “I know you can, but I like taking care of you. Hush and let me do it.”

I hush and let him help me into a pair of his sweats. I look like a little kid with them dragging the floor, so he chuckles and kneels to roll them up. Once he’s satisfied, he quickly yanks on a pair himself. He doesn’t put on a shirt, though.

“Uh, are you putting on a shirt?”

“Nope. We aren’t going to be dressed long enough for it to matter. I’m going to cook you food, and then I fully intend to spend the rest of the day being an attentive husband in bed.”

Well, okay then.

“Then why leave it at all?”

“You need food, and I refuse to talk about another woman in our bed, little bird.” His nose wrinkles. “We aren’t talking about other men in our bed either.”

“Well, that’s easy enough. There are none.”

He stares at me, his expression intense. “What do you mean by none?”

“I mean none. Zero. Zilch. Zip. Nada.” I shrug. “I had a boyfriend for a few months when I was a freshman in college. I’ve dated. But I’ve never slep–”

I don’t even get to finish before I’m plastered to the door with him all over me again.

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