Page 15

Archer

T hree Weeks Later

“Archer,” Wren groans, scowling daggers at me as I scoop her up into my arms at the bottom of the steps leading to the spectator area at the practice arena. “I can walk!”

“Mmhmm.” I brush my lips across her temple, tucking her up against my chest. “And I can carry you. So hush and let your husband have his way, little bird.”

I might be going overboard, but I don’t really care. She’s been having blinding headaches ever since the accident and tires out easily. Aside from that, she’s recovering well. The bruises are all but gone. The gash on her forehead is healing nicely. She’s pretty much back to normal.

Her doctor doesn’t think there is any permanent damage, thank God. But I still fucking worry. I’ll always worry.

The fact that Charles Montaque has been hanging around, trying to get the inside scoop on what happened in Detroit doesn’t make me worry any less. As if we’ll ever fucking tell him.

Because of him, she was released with a bevy of reporters waiting outside the hospital, waiting to catch a glimpse of us together. For that reason alone, Montaque will always be a prick in my book. She deserved privacy, and she had none because of him. She hasn’t had any in three weeks. I’m not letting him ambush her again.

I am surprised, though. Montaque didn’t drag me through the mud when he broke the news about our marriage and my role in Helping Hands , leaving very little for Alice to clean up.

“My husband is a pain in my–”

I cut Wren off with my lips on hers, earning cheers and catcalls from my idiot teammates as they emerge from the back of the arena. I ignore them, all my attention on the woman in my arms. At least until Micah’s voice rises above the rest.

“That’s enough already!” he growls. “Stop fucking kissing my sister, Graves.”

He’s not mad, though. I hear the amusement in his voice. It’s a change, a good one. Things between the two of us are almost back to normal. He bitches at me to keep my hands off his sister at every available opportunity. I ignore the fuck out him, also at every available opportunity.

She may be his sister, but she’s my wife, my world. I hold all the aces here.

I think he knows it.

We had a long fucking talk while she slept on the plane on the way home from Detroit after she was released. He apologized again for being a dick. I swore to take care of her for the rest of my life. He threatened to murder me if I didn’t. And I agreed to let him.

It won’t ever come to that, though. I came too close to losing her in Detroit. I’ll do everything in my power to ensure that shit never happens again. I’ve told her everything now. The worst of my sins are out there…and she’s still here. She still chose me.

I may not deserve it, but I’m not questioning it, either. I’m not a complete idiot. The woman of my dreams loves that I’m wild about her. She loves that I’m a little fucking unhinged when it comes to her. I’m rolling with it.

I adjust her in my arms, flipping her brother off behind my back.

“Dick,” he mutters through a chuckle.

I break from her lips, resting my forehead against hers. “I almost miss when he wasn’t speaking to us, little bird. He was far less annoying then.”

Her shoulders shake with laughter. “Suck it up, buttercup. If you didn’t want the whole world to know about us, you shouldn’t have married me in Vegas.”

“No regrets,” I whisper. “Not a single fucking one, Wren.”

Her lips curve into a bright smile. “Me either, Mr. Captain.”

I brush my lips against hers again, my chest pulsing with emotion. Fucking hell. I want her beneath me right now, naked and screaming my name. I need her falling apart on my cock.

“As soon as we’re done here, you’re all mine, baby girl,” I breathe, nipping her throat.

She whimpers quietly, clutching at my shirt. “Practice fast, Archer. I need you.”

Well, fuck.

Halfway through lowering her into her seat, I haul her back into my arms, turning away from the ice. I’m storming toward the back of the arena in two seconds, her body shaking with laughter.

“Where the fuck are you going?” Micah shouts to me.

“Wren needs to pee!” I shout.

“Archer Graves, are you lying to my brother?”

“Fuck yeah, I am,” I growl, carrying her straight into the locker room. The door slams behind us before I pin her against it. “I wasn’t about to tell him that his baby sister needs to come on my cock.”

“Archer,” she whimpers, squirming all over me.

“Say my name like that while I’m inside you, Wren.” I balance her carefully, yanking her pants and panties down her legs.

Her laughter peals around the locker room as she helps kick them off before wrapping her legs around my waist, her perfect pussy already glistening with her juices.

I groan at the sight, lowering her to her feet before I drop to my knees. Her hands fly to my head, hanging on for dear life as I lift one leg over my shoulder and bury my face between her thighs.

“Archer!” she moans.

“That’s it, Wren,” I snarl against her pussy. “Keep moaning for your husband just like that.” I flick my tongue against her clit before thrusting it into her hole to fuck her with it.

She shatters with a sharp cry, soaking my face. I eat her through it, unable to help myself when she tastes this damn good. Eventually though, she whimpers, trying to drag my mouth away.

I rise to my feet, hauling her back into my arms.

She’s panting for breath, her face flushed.

“I love you,” she whispers, her back plastered to the door, her hair a mess. And somehow, more perfect than ever.

“I love you too, little bird.” I yank my pants down, desperate to get inside her again. Who the fuck am I kidding? I’m always desperate when it comes to her. I’ll live and die addicted and obsessed.

That first thrust is heaven. She’s burning hot around me and so fucking tight. I growl her name, rocking into her again and again. Practice doesn’t matter. She does. This does.

“Breed me,” she gasps, her nails digging into my shoulders. “Please, Archer. Please.”

Ah, fuck.

Her pleas for me to put my baby in her spur me on as I lift her higher, fucking her like a madman. She shatters around me once, and then again, shouting my name, convulsing all over my cock.

I don’t fucking stop. Not until I’m half an hour late for practice and she’s completely wrung out, with my cum dripping down her legs.

It’s the best thirty minutes of my life…just like every other time I’m inside her. She’s home to me. And this right here? Her wrapped around me, chanting my name? This is the only kind of heaven a motherfucker like me needs.