Page 17 of Pucking Curves

His hand creeps higher, his gaze tangling with mine. Intent glitters like cerulean sin in his eyes. “Trust me, Wren. You’re cold. Get your blanket.”

“Don’t you dare,” I hiss, glancing over at Micah. He’s still snoring…and I don’t really mean no at all. Archer knows I don’t, damn him.

His lips curve upward as his hand journeys higher.

I glare at him. He smirks at me. We’re locked in a silent battle of wills, neither willing to bend, and neither willing to break. Until he reaches the apex of my thigh and shoves his hand between my legs.

I break, grabbing the blanket and flinging it over myself like I’m on fire and the damn blanket is salvation. It might be because he’s already shoving his hand into my pants, tugging my panties aside. And greedy, greedy little me doesn’t stop him. I spread my legs, making it easier. Giving him room.

He keeps his eyes locked on my face as his thumb grinds against my clit in torturously slow passes.

“I like watching you unravel for me,” he says, voice pitched low. Gritty. “I like how you whimper and squirm while I wreck you.”

“I hate you so much.”

He sinks a finger into me up to the knuckle. “Yeah? You sure about that, little bird? Because it feels a whole lot like you’re fucking dying for this just as much as I am.”

“Am…not…” I gasp. I lie. And God help me, I whimper and squirm, too. We’re surrounded by his teammates with my brother right beside him. And I shamelessly rock against his hand anyway, letting him fuck me with his fingers.

What is he doing to me?

“You’re so fucking beautiful when you need to come,” he murmurs, his eyes drifting across my face like he’s trying to commit the sight of me like this to memory. “Does it feel as good as it looks, baby?”

“Yes.” I can’t lie this time. Not when he’s looking at me like my answer is the most important thing in the world. Not when it feels this damn good. And not when I’m already on the verge of losing it and coming all over him.

He leans forward, tipping his head down. “Then be good and come all over my hand, wife,” he growls, his breath hot against my ear. “Let me spend the rest of this flight with your juices all over me and your sweet little whimpers ringing in my ears. That’s heaven, Wren. It’s fucking nirvana.”

Something about the way he speaks to me like he’s spilling truths he’s been dying to let loose, like he’s been dying for this, has me unraveling with his name whispering from my lips. And maybe that’s my truth. Maybe he’s my inevitability. With his lips against my skin and bliss pumping through my veins instead of blood, he certainly feels like it.

And in this moment, even with Micah sleeping beside us…that doesn’t scare me nearly as much as it probably should.

Not until Micah grunts, sitting upright.

Archer slowly slips his hand from between my thighs, his lips against my ear. “Beautiful,” he whispers before straightening my blanket as if that’s all he was doing.

I slam my eyes closed, trying to steady my breathing.

“She sleeping?” Micah asks, voice rough with sleep.

“Yeah.” Archer sits back in his seat. “She’s still hungover.”

“Bet she won’t want to party in Vegas again anytime soon.” Micah chuckles, and then I hear him shifting around. “I’m going to hit the head.”

I wait until I’m sure the coast is clear before opening my eyes. When I do, it’s to find Archer watching me. Our eyes lock, something unspoken passing between us. Something terrifyingly vast.

“Archer, I…”

He touches my cheek, cutting me off. “Get some rest, little bird. You didn’t get much last night.”

I hesitate, determined to say…something. But I don’t know what. So I nod instead, letting my eyes drift closed. And somehow, despite the anxiety still churning in my stomach, despite everything, I sleep.

Chapter Five

Archer

Whenweland,Ioffer to drive Wren home so Micah can get home to his wife and baby. He’s too eager to see his family after being away all weekend to question my intentions with his sister. He’s always eager to get back to them. On the rare occasion when we manage to drag him out to celebrate after a win, he’s always the first to leave.

I should feel like an asshole for using his weakness against him, but I don’t. As soon as Wren decides she’s ready to give me a real chance, I’ll be telling him the truth about us. But not before. I can’t risk him ripping her from my arms before I even have the chance to convince her that we aren’t a mistake. I need time to prove to her that what’s between us is real.

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