Page 10

Wren

“O h my god,” I growl, tossing my phone onto the dresser as yet another text from Micah lights up the screen. It’s been a little over a week since we talked at the game. He won’t speak to me. Instead, he texts me fifteen times a day, asking if I’ve broken up with Archer yet.

“What’s wrong?” Archer asks, stepping up behind me. He wraps his arms around my waist, pressing a kiss to my shoulder.

“Your best friend is relentless,” I mutter, snatching my phone up to reply.

Me: No. I haven’t broken up with him. In fact, I married him in–

Archer grabs the phone from my hands before I can finish typing. I glare at him in the mirror, but he just shakes his head, his expression soft. “You know you don’t want to tell him like that, little bird,” he murmurs. “You’re pissed off at him, but he’s still your brother. Don’t tell him just because you’re angry.”

He's right. But he’s wrong, too. I don’t want to tell Micah the truth just because I’m mad at him. I want to tell him because things are amazing between me and Archer, I’m more in love with him than ever, and I don’t want to pretend that doesn’t matter to me. I’m tired of being one thing with him in private, and something else in public.

I’ve thought about little else over the last few days. Archer and I deserve a real chance, and it isn’t fair to us that Micah’s feelings matter more than ours. This is our lives, our decision.

Micah doesn’t have to like it. But he doesn’t get to treat me like a child and pretend I’m not capable of taking care of myself or making up my own mind. Maybe if he knows the truth, he’ll learn to accept the thought of me and Archer faster. This ridiculous war between us will end, and everything will go back to normal.

I know Archer wants that too. Things are tense between him and Micah. The whole team can sense it, and it’s throwing them off. They nearly lost their last game because Micah refused to pass the puck to Archer. The Argonauts managed to gain possession of it and tied up the game, sending them into overtime.

It’s like my worst fears are playing out in front of me. And the only option Micah’s willing to accept to stop being so stubborn is for me to walk away from Archer. He’s always been in my corner. He’s always been my best friend. And now I can’t even count on him to act like a rational human being. It sucks all the way around.

“I wish he’d talk to me,” I whisper to Archer. “I wish he’d give us a chance. And I’m tired of pretending like this doesn’t matter, like you don’t matter.” I twist in his arms until I’m facing him. “If he knew the truth, maybe…”

Archer places his fingers over my lips, resting his forehead against mine. “If he knew the truth, he’d be even more pissed than he is now. Let me talk to him.”

“He won’t talk to you.”

Archer’s lips curve into a tiny smile. “You doubting me, baby girl?”

“No. I just know him. He’s stubborn and infuriating.”

“Maybe I’m stubborn and infuriating, too.” His lips brush mine, his kiss soft. “Especially when it comes to you. I’m not going to give you up or back down. I’ll fight as hard as I have to fight to make him realize that you and I are permanent.”

My stomach flutters. The truth is right there on my lips threatening to break free. It’s three little words—I love you. I mean them all the way to my damn soul…but I swallow them back. I don’t want to be talking about Micah the first time I say them. I want it to be about just the two of us. That’s what this amazing man deserves.

“I’ll fight too,” I say instead, earning another smile from him, bigger this time.

“Yeah? You going to slay dragons for me, little bird?”

“Only the pain-in-the-ass brother-shaped ones. You’re on your own with the fire-breathing kind.”

Archer chuckles, tipping my head back to examine my face. “I want to take you somewhere today. No phones. No pain-in-the-ass brother-shaped dragons. Just you and me.”

“Oh, yeah?” I smile up at him. “Is this a date, Archer Graves?”

“It’s absolutely a date, Wren Graves.”

“Holy crap.” I blink at him, shocked. “That is my last name now, isn’t it?”

“Will be as soon as you decide to file all the paperwork to change it. Sounds good on you, doesn’t it?”

“Wren Graves,” I whisper, and then giggle because I can’t help it. “It does sound good.”

“You can keep it forever if you want. All you gotta do is file the paperwork.”

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. We always have 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.”

My heart flutters. This man… God, I don’t think there’s anyone else like him. There certainly isn’t another one who looks at me like he does, or who treats me like he does. What I want and need matters to him. I think maybe it always mattered.

I peek at him out of the corner of my eye as he leads me toward the opening that lets out onto the ice. My heart thumps unevenly against my ribcage. I shiver, clinging to his hand like he’s a lifeline.

“Breathe, Wren,” he murmurs. “Even if the ice were to crack beneath us, we wouldn’t fall through, okay? There’s a layer of insulation and heated concrete below us. No water.”

I’m not sure if it’s his reassurance that allows me to take that first step out onto the ice, if it’s his voice in my ear, or if it’s simply him. But I take it. My feet slip a little, but his don’t. He keeps me steady, holding onto me with a quiet confidence that bolsters mine.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, pride in his eyes as he meets my gaze. “Just stand here for a minute, and then we’ll walk out.”

I nod, breathing in the cold air of the rink. Breathing him in. His scent is soothing. The ice is familiar. Maybe I can do this.

“I’m ready.”

“You sure? We don’t have to rush.”

“I’m sure.” I give him a tiny smile. Honestly, it’s not as bad as I thought it would be. I’ve been around rinks and ice most of my life. It’s been a long time since I was brave enough to step out onto it myself, but the ice feels almost like home in a weird way.

Archer holds onto me, leading me step by step out to the center of the rink. His voice is a deep rumble in my ear, murmuring praise with every foot forward.

By the time we reach the table, I feel a little like I slayed a dragon.

He brushes my hair away from my face, pressing his lips to my cheek, before he helps me into my seat. I glance down at the table, my eyes catching on the single iris laid out beside my plate.

“How’d you know they’re my favorite?” I ask when he settles across from me, bringing the flower to my nose to inhale its soft scent.

“I know everything about you.”

“How?” I press, genuinely curious if he’ll spill his secrets for me this time.

He holds my gaze, hesitating. And then he shrugs. “Maybe I pay attention.” His throat works. “Maybe I’ve paid more attention than I should have.”

“How much more attention?” I ask.

“A lot.”

“Did you follow me?”

He swallows hard, hesitating a beat. “Do you want the truth or the comforting lie, Wren?” he finally asks. “Because once it’s out there, it changes things.”

“Or maybe it doesn’t,” I whisper.

Surprise flares in his eyes, like he never considered the possibility that I wouldn’t run screaming into the night.

“You know where I live, where I work. You know things about me that no one else does.” I shrug, twirling the flower between my fingers. “I know Micah didn’t tell you. I know you didn’t learn my favorite flower just by seeing me the few times I came around the arena. You didn’t just pick up how I like my eggs or my coffee or my favorite café from listening.”

“Shit,” he mutters.

“Did you watch me? Follow me?” I cock my head to the side, studying him. “For how long, Archer?”

“Since two weeks after Micah and Elodie’s wedding.”

“The night I went to the bar with you guys,” I murmur.

He jerks his head in a nod. “I wanted to make sure you got home okay. And then…” He pauses, clearly trying to figure out how to say what he wants before he mutters another soft curse. “I didn’t want to fucking leave, so I didn’t. I thought about knocking on the door. Fuck, I must have thought about it for an hour. But I didn’t. I knew Micah wouldn’t approve. Wasn’t sure you would, either. So I just fucking…sat there, unable to come inside, but incapable of leaving.”

He meets my gaze, his cerulean eyes glittering with heat, with possession. “I knew you were mine, Wren. Mine to protect. Mine to take care of. I just didn’t know what the fuck I was supposed to do about it. So when I couldn’t fucking stand not seeing you, I watched you. I checked up on you. And yeah, I followed you. Figured it was the closest I’d ever get to heaven.”

This is the part where I should run. It’s the part where I should be horrified or terrified or whatever the feeling is when you know someone has been following you. But…I don’t feel any of those things. Because I know him just as well as he knows me. There’s no one in the world I’m safer with than I am with him.

The whole damn time he was following me, wishing I was his, I wanted the same thing. I dreamed about him, obsessed about him. God, I looked him up online so many times, devouring every article I could find. I found excuses to go see Micah, just so I could see Archer, even if only from a distance.

If he’s guilty of crossing lines, I guess I am too.

“Say something,” he says quietly.

“You’re obsessed with me.”

“Obsessed with. Crazy about.” He swallows. “In love with.”

My heart skips a beat before slamming against my ribcage. “You should have knocked that night, Archer. I would have let you in.”

He growls, a purely predatory sound that shoots straight to my core.

I want to rattle him. I want to ruin him the way he just ruined me, make it impossible for him to ever forget that I’ve been right there with him the whole damn time, just as desperate, just as needy as he’s been.

“You know what I was doing on the other side of the wall that night?” I ask, my voice hoarse. “I was getting myself off, remembering the way you smirked at me across the pool table. In my mind, your hands weren’t on the pool stick, they were on me. And you weren’t sinking balls into the corner pocket. You were sinking into me.”

“Fuck,” he growls, heat rolling through his eyes in a wave. His hands clench into fists on the table, his body tensing as if he’s trying to keep himself from launching over the table to drag me into his arms. “Did you call my name when you came, Wren?”

“Yes.” I hold his gaze. “It’s been your name on my lips every damn night for the last year, Archer.”

His seat slides back before he rises to his feet, looming like a wall as he rounds the table toward me, each step intentional, each breath a rasp in his throat.

He hauls me out of my chair, his feet steady beneath him as his lips come down on mine. I thrust my hands into his hair, clinging as he annihilates me with his kiss, with the force of his desire.

“Christ, Wren,” he growls, dropping into my seat with me on his lap, my legs spread around his thighs. He grabs my hand, dragging it down between our bodies. He yanks my coat out of the way as he goes. “Show me. Fuck your fingers right here on my lap like you did in your bedroom that night.”

“What if…?” Even as I start to ask the question, I realize I really don’t care if anyone sees us. If they catch us. Archer won’t let them see anything they shouldn’t, and that’s all that really matters.

I lean back, bracing against the table as I slip my hand into my panties. I’m already wet. No big surprise there. All he has to do is look at me, and I’m aching. All he has to do is kiss me, and I’m dripping.

I stroke my cold fingers across my clit, staring right at him, letting him watch every flicker of emotion, every single damn sensation as it crosses my face. I’m not thinking about the ice below us. I’m not thinking about anything but the adoring, starving look on his face.

“Fuck, baby,” he says, his voice a dark rasp. “You look so pretty playing with yourself for me. Does it feel good?”

“Yes,” I moan, writhing on his lap. “It feels so good, Archer.”

A growl vibrates in his chest, his hands clamping down on my hips. “Make yourself come for me, little bird. Fuck your fingers like they’re mine.”

I lean back further. Spread my legs wider.

“Archer,” I moan, rocking against my fingers.

“How many, Wren? How many are you taking right now?”

“T-two.”

His hands tighten around my hips, flexing like he’s trying like hell to keep himself from shoving his hand into my panties and taking over. He wants to take charge so badly. It’s written all over his face.

“You feel so good, Archer,” I whimper, hoping to drive him over the edge.

It works.

He snarls, shoving his hand into my panties alongside mine. He doesn’t bat mine out of the way though. He simply covers mine, moving with me. One thick finger presses inside, stretching me alongside mine. I’m burning hot around his chilly skin. The dichotomy only drives me higher.

We work together, thrusting, stroking…

“I feel how close you are,” he groans. “This pretty little pussy is fluttering all over our fingers, Wren. Come.”

It’s like my body is his to command, obeying him on instinct. I arch my hips, his name breaking from my lips as I shatter, soaking our joined hands.

He keeps our hands moving, keeps me rocking against him until I’m trembling, so sensitive every move pulls a whimper from my lips.

I melt against him, letting him hold me up as he pulls our hands from my panties, bringing them to his mouth. A whole new inferno blazes to life when he pulls my fingers into his mouth, sucking my juices from them. He licks my taste from his fingers, too.

“Fucking perfect,” he growls then, claiming my lips in a deep kiss.

I just hum against his lips, so damn in love with him it’s a little bit terrifying…and not nearly terrifying enough. I want more. Hell, I want everything. Every. Damn. Thing.

“I love you, Archer,” I whisper, unable to keep the truth to myself any longer. He deserves to hear it. He deserves to know…no matter what happens with Micah, I’m all in.

He pulls back to look at me, emotion brimming in his eyes. “Say that again.”

“I love you.”

He wraps his arms around me, burying his face in my throat. A shudder rips through him before I feel his lips against my pulse point. “I love you too, little bird. Always have.”