Page 33 of Pucking Curves

“Christ, Wren. You’re so fucking tight and perfect.” He buries his face in my throat, growling. “Being in you makes a grown man want to cry, baby girl. You feel so goddamn good. So good.”

“Archer,” I whimper, loving the way he speaks to me, confessions whispering from his lips like he just can’t keep himself from spilling all his truths.

“Tell me it’s mine, Wren.” He pumps harder, hitting that magical spot inside. “Tell me that you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” I say immediately, clutching at his shoulders. “I’m yours, Archer.”

He growls again, pounding into me like he just can’t stop himself. I cry out, already right there on the edge. His fingers dancing across my clit send me careening over into bliss.

He follows me over with a grunt, planting himself deep as he spills into me again and again.

“My wife,” he breathes, his lips against my throat. “My perfect, perfect wife.”

I cling to him, panting. Trembling. Falling even deeper.

And when he reaches beneath the pillow, yanking out the panties he stole before dropping them on my chest…I laugh, feeling lighter than I have in so damn long. Because of him.

“Wren!” Alice Madison, the team’s publicist, waves me over as soon as I step through the player’s entrance at the arena. She’s standing across the hall, dressed in team colors and stilettos. Emilia Lariat, Coach Lariat’s daughter, is standing beside her.

I exhale a relieved breath, glad they’re here, at least. Most of the players’ wives ignore me when I come around. I guess I’m not important enough for them. But Emilia was nice when I met her before Vegas. And Alice is always great. I adore her.

“Hey.” I reach out, pulling Alice into a hug before I hug Emilia. “I’m so glad you guys are here tonight.”

“I just bet you are,” Alice says, smirking at me. “Number 93, huh?”

“Don’t ask,” I groan, pressing my hands to my cheeks. “Micah is going to flip out.”

“Yep,” Alice says.

“He just worries about you,” Emilia adds like she knows something I don’t. Hell, maybe she does. She’s the team’s new therapist. Maybe he talks to her. Ihopehe talks to her. He needs to talk to someone. He’s texted me four more times since last night, demanding that I break up with Archer.

I ignored him each time…but I won’t be able to ignore him forever. As soon as he sees me in Archer’s jersey, he’ll know that I’ve made my choice. He’s going to be a total grump about it.

Alice loops her arm through mine, laying her head against mine. “Don’t even worry about it, girl. He’ll be fine once he gets used to the idea of you and Archer dating.”

“Yeah.” I bite my lip, battling back the urge to blurt out that we got married in Vegas. I haven’t told a single soul, and secrets are not friends. Specifically, they aren’tmyfriends. I’m terrible at keeping them! But this one has to be kept. At least for now. At least until Micah has time to get used to the idea of us.

“Let’s go wish them good luck and find our seats,” Emilia suggests.

My stomach trembles but I nod anyway.

The three of us make our way down the hall toward the locker room. Emilia hums to herself, but Alice is quiet at my side.

“You’re quiet tonight.” I peek over at her to find her lips turned down, a faraway look on her face.

“What? Oh.” She waves a dismissive hand. “I’m fine. Just a lot on my mind.”

“Team stuff?” Emilia and Nash are sleeping together behind Coach Lariat’s back. Logan is losing it over a woman he just met. Who knows who else is causing her stress? They constantly keep her busy. If one of them isn’t up to something, another is.

“Yeah, something like that.”

The way she says it makes me think it’s not team stuff at all, but I don’t pry. If she wanted me to know, she’d tell me. But I do squeeze her arm, shooting her a sympathetic smile.

“Whatever it is, it’ll work out,” I murmur.

“Yeah.” She sighs before pasting a bright smile on her face. “And so will this thing between Archer and Micah. Just give it time.”

Easy for her to say. She’s not the reason the two men she loves most in the world may end up hating each other. And she won’t be responsible if it rips the whole team apart. That’d be me, party of one.

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