Page 109 of Shots Fired

I’m falling in love with him.

Truthfully, I think I’ve known it for a while. I’ve certainly felt it in my heart. From the moment I found out he was “seeing” someone else, I tumbled into his world and abandoned my inhibitions. Yes, I was determined not to become another notch on his bedpost, but honestly, I don’t think there was ever a riskof that happening. Archer Moore is the kind of boyfriend you dream about taking home to your parents while simultaneously counting down the hours until you can leave the family dinner table and get him alone again.

He’s perfection personified.

He’s the father of my child.

And he’s mine.

He’s also half an hour fucking late.

Wide awake at past midnight, I roll onto my back and stare up at the white ceiling. It’s been nearly a week since I last stayed at my apartment, promising Archer I’d stay at his place instead. Apparently, a dead bolt, smart camera, and an incredibly nosy neighbor weren’t enough to convince him I would be safe.

“So possessive,” I whisper into the dark, smiling the whole time.

Reaching across to the side table, I tap the lamp base and flood the room with a warm glow. When I sit up and the duvet pools around my waist, I see the faint outline of a bump. To the onlooker, I’ve probably had a big meal, but to me, it’s obvious.

I swipe my sudoku book and pencil from the table since my brain needs some kind of distraction and begin filling out the first problem when I hear the faint sound of elevator doors opening.

Every nerve tingles while I listen for footsteps following the familiar noise of his keys being set down on the console table.

I fight back a giddy smile and focus on my puzzle when the bedroom door cracks open, and Archer carefully steps inside.

His eyes drop to my puzzle book, balanced in my lap. “Does your brain ever get tired?”

He’s already halfway to my bedside when I begin chewing on the tip of my pencil, appreciating the way his black tailored trousers and open collared white shirt hug every part of his perfect body.

Pretty much every year, he’s voted by a magazine as the hottest guy in the NHL. Come to think of it, I’m fairly sure I voted once too.

He takes a seat on the edge of the bed next to me, cupping one side of my face in his hand while he slowly undoes his shirt with the other.

The first kiss he sets on my lips is soft and sweet, allowing me to taste what I’ve missed for nearly a week. He pulls back, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“I’m fucking crazy about you, Darcy.”

If I couldn’t feel the mattress beneath me, I’d feel sure I was levitating.

“My mind only rests when you’re around,” I breathe, trying to fill my lungs with the oxygen they crave.

His shirt now half undone, I notice he’s wearing the platinum chain I love so much. “Where did you get that?” I ask, smoothing my fingers over it.

Archer takes the chain between his thumb and forefinger, eyes dropping to it. “I bought it myself. The day I got my signing bonus from the Philadelphia Bolts, I went and got it. It serves as a reminder of how far I’ve come and what I worked hard to achieve.”

I never anticipated such a simple question to evoke the emotions forming in my throat as I take in a man who surprises me every day.

“You’re sentimental?” I ask.

He dips a hand into the pocket of his pants and pulls out the conker he picked up in Fort Greene Park. “I guess you could say that, yeah.”

I take it from his hand and turn it around in front of me, tears filling my vision. I know I’m all kinds of hormonal, but this is one of the sweetest gestures ever. “You kept the conker and took it away with you.”

“Anything to help me get through the days without you, Darcy Doll.”

Leaning forward, he presses a searing kiss against my lips, and I part for him, tongues tangling in perfect harmony. Nothing with Archer is forced—from our kisses to our conversations and more.

When we break for a second time, he picks up my puzzle book, turning it the right way up so he can study it.

Next, he picks up my pencil and begins scanning each square on the sudoku board.