Page 41 of Pucking Curves

I groan, faceplanting into his chest, which makes him chuckle.

“I’m just teasing, Wren. We’ll get there.”

I’m already there. I think I’ve been there all along and have just been too damn afraid to admit it. But I’m not playing it safe anymore. I’m not going to pretend this isn’t exactly what I want.

I’m terrified I’ll end up heartbroken—that Archer won’t have a choice except to choose the team over me. He’s their captain. They need him and Micah on the same page. But that’s a risk I’m willing to take. It has to be because playing it safe feels like breaking my own damn heart.

But we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. For today, I just want to be with him. I want to pretend that life is perfect, and everything is destined to work out for the best. I’m manifesting my future. And Archer Graves is that future.

“Where are you taking me?” I ask, staring up at him.

“Get dressed, and you’ll find out.”

“Um…when is the last time you went on a date?”

His brows furrow. “When I was seventeen. Why?”

I laugh quietly. “You have so much to learn, husband. You can’t just tell a girl to get dressed. We have questions. Wealwayshave questions. Like where are we going? What should I wear? Do I need to dress up? Down? For warmth? For comfort? Should I be prepared to do anything physical? Are we eating or should I eat first? Do I nee–”

He cuts me off with his lips against mine, only pulling back when I’m too breathless to keep asking questions. “Dress for comfort and warmth. I will feed you. And if you’re with me, you should always be prepared for shit to get physical, baby girl. You know damn well I’ll have you bouncing on my cock at every available opportunity.”

He turns me toward the closet, where half of my clothes now mingle with his. I haven’t spent more than ten minutes at a time at my place since we got back from Vegas. We should probably figure out what we’re going to do about my lease.

I can’t even pretend I’m not living with him, or that it’s not exactly what he wants. Anytime I even mention going to my place for anything, he gets grumpy and sexy and gives me orgasms until I promise I’ll be sleeping in bed with him…the same way I have every night since Vegas.

“Go get dressed,” he says.

“Don’t be bossy.”

He drags me back into his arms, nipping the side of my throat. “You fucking love it when I tell you what to do, Wren. It’s the reason that pretty little pussy stays so wet and ready for me.”

I bite my lip, fighting a whimper. Mostly because he’s right…but there’s no way I’m telling him that. He does not need to know all my secrets. I’ll never be able to win an argument again if he learns them all.

If he were anyone else, there’s no way I’d tolerate being told what to do. I love when he does it, though, because I know that he knows me well enough to know when it’s acceptable and when it isn’t. I trust him enough to let him lead. And that’s kind of beautiful.

“Ice skating?” I ask almost two hours later, staring at the building in front of us with nervous butterflies roiling in my stomach. I haven’t been on the ice since I fell through it. The stands in the arena are the closest I come.

Archer reaches for my hand, lacing our fingers together. “I see how nervous you are whenever you even look at the ice, Wren,” he says quietly. “I want to change that for you, replace that awful memory with good ones.”

“Archer,” I whisper, looking over at him with my heart in my throat.

“I don’t want you spending the rest of your life afraid of something.”

“What if…” I lick my lips, swallowing hard. “What if I’m still terrible at it? What if I panic?”

“Then I’ll be right there to catch you,” he says without hesitation, lifting my hand to his lips. “Trust me, little bird. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

I hesitate for a split second before nodding. I’m not sure if I can do this, but for him? Well, there isn’t much I won’t try for him.

He kills the engine and hops out before circling around to open my door for me. His lips brush my forehead before he tucks me up against his side, leading me inside the rink.

I pause just over the threshold, looking around in surprise. “Why is it so empty?”

“A friend owns the place. I rented it for the day,” he murmurs.

I gape over at him, wide-eyed. “You rented the entire rink just to teach me to skate?”

“No.” He nods at the table set up in the very center of the ice. “I rented it to spend the day spoiling you. We’re going to eat first so you can get used to being on the ice again. And then I’ll teach you to skate.”

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