Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 54056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
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.”