Page 21 of Pucking Curves

I growl, dragging her into my arms. My lips come down on hers. Like always, the kiss is explosive. We ignite like kindling, going up in flames together. She clings to me, whimpering. Melting.

“Deny it now, little bird,” I growl against her lips, hauling her up into my arms. I plant my hands on her ass, pressing her back against the fridge.

Her legs spread around mine, her head falling back. I grind against her, my cock nestled between her thighs, driving against her perfect pussy.

She sobs my name, her hands scrabbling at my shoulders, clutching me tighter. Clawing.

“Please,” she sobs.

“Please, what?”

“S-show me.”

Chapter Six

Wren

HeknowswhatI’masking, what I need. I need to know this is real.

His groan vibrates through me before he kisses me again, hard and deep. Like he’s trying to make me feel what he does, trying to brand me with his possession. But he doesn’t need to do it. I already feel it.

I’m just a coward. One balancing on the edge of a knife. And I’m terrified that I’m going to knock us off the side and get us swept away into something that none of us can come back from.

All the king’s horses and all the king’s men…

I don’t want to break anyone I love. I don’t want to be broken.

But none of that matters when he’s kissing me. None of it matters when his hands are on my body. The only things that matter are him and the way he makes me feel alive in a way I’ve never been before now.

“Goddamn, Wren,” he growls, reaching for the hem of my shirt. His hands rake up my abdomen as he lifts it, only breaking from my lips long enough to rip it off over my head. The chrome of the fridge is cold against my back, but he’s searing hot against my chest. “You have no idea the things I want to do to you.”

“Show me,” I say again, not offering any resistance. I’ve spent a year thinking about a whole lot of things I’d like him to do to me. Dreaming about them. Getting myself off to fantasies of them. Now that the reality is within my grasp, I’m not shying away. Hell no. I want everything he has.

“Don’t tempt me, little bird.” His lips slide down my throat. “I’ll have you tied to my bed, surviving on my cock until you’re carrying my kid.”

My womb clenches, a wave of heat blasting through me. Good Lord. This man is going to annihilate any chance I have of surviving without him. I already know he is. Because I want his babies. I want everything he’s offering. It’s so damn tempting, like waving alcohol in front of an addict.

“I’m on birth control,” I blurt, trying to claw us both back toward sanity. It helps regulate my cycle. PCOS is a bitch.

Archer’s teeth sink into my throat before he snarls. “Think that’ll stop me, baby?” He kisses lower, ripping the cups of my bra down. “Throw the pills out.”

“I…Oh my god, Archer,” I moan, writhing as he wraps his lips around my nipple, sucking hard.

“Christ, I could do this all day,” he mutters before suddenly lifting me away from the fridge.

I gasp, clinging to his broad shoulders as he stalks across the kitchen like I don’t weigh anything at all. Every step he takes has his erection grinding against my clit, the pressure hitting right where I need it.

“Archer!”

“You going to come all over me already, baby?” His raspy chuckle is my undoing. Or maybe it’s his hands on my body like he owns it. I don’t know. But I fall forward, burying my face in his throat. My teeth catch his skin as I shatter like glass, splintering apart.

“That’s it,” he growls, rocking me against him. “Just keep coming, little bird.”

Like I have a choice when he’s all over me, implacable and intense and so damn sexy. I shake and writhe, chanting his name like a freaking prayer. And maybe it is because I don’t want this to end. I don’t want to give him up. I want whatever this is between us to be real and possible and not something that has to end. Please, baby Jesus? Please?

My back lands against a bed, Archer falling on top of me. He holds his weight off me as if to keep from crushing me, but he doesn’t let me go. He’s pressed to me in one long, delicious line, pinning me beneath him.

“Throw the pills out, wife,” he growls, pulling back to meet my gaze. His eyes are dark, his expression even darker. Full of possession and command, as if he can will me into surrendering to him.

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