Page 22 of A Game of Ruck (Carolina Rugby #2)

I can’t believe it.

I am married. Legally. To the man I adore.

Who I’ve only known for like a week.

But it doesn’t matter. Because when I fall, I fall hard.

And I have never fallen as hard as I have for Luca Warden.

Everything he’s done?

Arranging our wedding.

The amazing Haka he asked his team captain to lead for him, for me, for us?

It’s all a testament to his feelings for me.

And they are big. Just like my feelings for him.

And when I finally get down to admitting it, no one makes me feel like he does.

We kiss and I run, leading him on a merry chase. I find myself in a bedroom—ours. And he follows me inside, closing the door with a small click.

He’s so hot. So damn sexy, I ache just looking at him. And I can’t believe it, but he wants me just as much.

He doesn’t seem to mind my extra pounds or my many curves. Luca loves me like he owns me.

And maybe he does.

My dress slides off my shoulders, whispering to the floor like it knows it doesn’t stand a chance.

His eyes burn hotter than fire, raking over every inch of my exposed skin like I’m something holy—and something filthy all at once.

Then his fingers find the clasp at the front of my bra. One flick and it’s gone.

My breasts bounce free and I can’t stop the gasp that escapes me.

I feel seen —so deeply, fully seen it nearly knocks the breath from my lungs.

But Luca isn’t done.

His big hands curl around my hips and he rips my panties from my body. Just tears them off like they offended him by existing between us.

“Oh my God,” I whisper, clutching at his shoulders as I try to remember how to breathe .

My chest heaves. My thighs tremble. My whole body is on high alert, drowning in adrenaline, desire, and disbelief.

His eyes darken, pupils blown wide as he takes me in. Like he’s committing every inch of me to memory.

“Get on the bed, Angel,” he growls. “Let me see what’s mine.”

And I do. I back up, knees hitting the edge of the mattress before I climb onto it, crawling backward until I’m laid out for him. Heart racing. Core throbbing. Every nerve ending in my body begging for his touch.

I feel like a goddess and a sinner and something he might worship .

I watch as he undresses—his pants hitting the floor with a heavy thud —and when I see his cock, thick and long and already glistening at the tip, I swear my breath catches in my throat.

I’m not scared. I’m starving .

He climbs up the bed, covering me with his big, powerful body. And fuck, he crashes into me, lifting me to heights I never even dreamed of.

Minutes after we come back down, Luca’s hard again, and I am so ready for it.

One hand cups my breast, teasing my nipple until I cry out.

The other trails lower, between my thighs, where I’m still so sensitive and soaking wet for him.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he murmurs, mouth at my throat. “You were made for me.”

“Luca,” I whimper, wrapping my legs around him, pulling him closer.

He shifts, and I feel his shallow thrusts nudging against my clit.

Pleasure pools deep in my gut, building into a wave of unstoppable bliss.

“I need you,” I say, voice cracking with emotion. “Please.”

“I’ve got you, baby,” he growls, kissing me as he pushes even deeper inside me, touching me where no one else ever has.

I feel every inch.

Every glorious, thick, unrelenting inch as he fills me.

Stretches me.

Marks me.

It’s overwhelming— in the best way.

I moan his name, clinging to him, my entire body burning alive with the fullness of him.

And when he starts to move, faster and harder, every deep stroke sends pleasure rocketing through me like lightning.

He kisses me again, mouth hot and claiming.

Tongue sliding against mine in perfect rhythm with his hips.

Luca thrusts deeper, harder, and I cry out—his name falling from my lips like a prayer.

My fingers dig into his back, nails dragging along the thick muscles there as if I could anchor myself to him.

“God, Angel,” he groans into my neck, his voice wrecked. “You feel like heaven.”

I arch into him, needing more , and he gives it—hips slamming into mine, the sound of our bodies meeting echoing through the room like a drumbeat, like thunder, like fate.

He’s everywhere—on me, around me, inside me—and I’ve never felt so completely devoured.

“Harder,” I beg, my voice raw.

Luca’s head snaps up, his eyes blazing down into mine. “You want it rough, baby?”

I nod, desperate.

He growls, pulls out to the tip, then slams back in so hard the headboard thuds against the wall.

My back arches. My scream dies in his mouth when he captures me in another blistering kiss.

I’m losing it.

Losing myself in him.

And it feels right .

Every thrust pushes me higher. Every stroke makes me unravel. His hand finds my throat—not tight, just there, just his —and my body clenches around him like I’m never letting go.

“You were made for this,” he pants. “Made for me . Look how you take it. Look how hungry you are for it.”

I don’t deny it.

Can’t.

My moans turn into sobs of pleasure, and I feel the orgasm building fast, deep, feral. Like it’s been waiting for this man, this moment, my husband to claim me fully.

And when he reaches between us and rubs my clit in firm, perfect circles, it detonates.

I shatter.

Cry out.

Come apart beneath him, around him, because of him.

And he follows me over the edge, growling my name like a curse, a prayer, and a vow all at once as he buries himself deep and comes hard, trembling above me.

We collapse in a tangle of limbs, breathless and dazed, hearts pounding in tandem.

And as he pulls me into his chest, still buried inside me, still mine , I know something with absolute certainty.

This isn’t just our wedding night.

It’s not even just love.

This is the beginning of everything.

Our messy, passionate, beautiful forever.

This is a claiming .

A homecoming.

A fucking promise .

I’ve never felt more wanted. More treasured. More mine.

And tonight?

I belong to him —completely.

My husband. My love.

Hours, one shower, and a plate of scrambled eggs later, I’m half-draped over my sexy-as-sin husband, our legs tangled together in the middle of our brand new king-sized bed.

The sheets still smell like us—like him—sweat and spice and the kind of home I never thought I’d have.

I run my fingers down the planes of his chest, marveling at the fact that he’s really here.

That he’s mine.

That I’m his.

“How did I get so lucky?” I murmur against his skin, my lips brushing the hard muscle of his shoulder.

Luca shifts slightly, cupping the back of my head with one big hand, and I can feel the grin in his voice before he speaks. “I’m the lucky one, Angel. But for the record? You and me? This wasn’t luck.”

I glance up, and his eyes are warm. Serious.

“This took work,” he continues, his fingers sliding through my hair. “Because all the best things do. And I swear to you, I will never stop earning you. Never stop proving I’m worthy of your love, Annabeth.”

My throat tightens, and I blink fast to stop the tears.

“You don’t have to prove anything,” I whisper. “You already have. I love you, Luca.”

“I love you too.” He presses a kiss to my temple, then tilts my chin until our eyes lock. “You’re it for me. My forever.”

My heart skips.

This man.

He doesn’t just say things—he means them. Every word, every touch, every kiss feels like a vow.

And just like that, he knocks me off my feet. Again. Just like he did to that Gator player earlier today—only with a hell of a lot more finesse.

I laugh, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. “You know, life’s no game of ruck, Luca.”

He grins. “Maybe not. But if it was, I’d catch you. Every single time.”

And he means it.

Because he always does.

And for the first time in my life, I believe it. I believe in us .

Forever and ever, game on.