Chapter Thirty-Eight
DARCY
Collins: I know you’re all aware of how much I hate birthdays—or just celebrations in general, to be honest. However, this year, Sawyer is determined to throw me a party.
He says since it’s my last one as a Mackenzie, I should make the most of it.
He also wanted to do invites, etc., but I drew the line.
He’s already getting carried away with wedding plans. So, consider this text as your invite.
Kendra: Where is this party?
Collins: Sawyer’s hiring out a fancy place or something. The entire team and their partners are invited.
Jenna: You sound so thrilled, Collins.
Collins: I won’t lie, when he first made the suggestion, I shut it straight down. But I’m warming to it a little, I guess.
Jenna: Well, I’m free around your birthday, and if partners are invited, I might bring a plus-one.
Kendra: Phil?
Jenna: Hell no! I stopped sleeping with him because he wanted more with me, and I’m not seeing it. He’s not my type in that way.
Me: She wants a hockey player.
Jenna: Show me a girl who says she doesn’t, and I’ll show you a liar.
Kendra: I cannot argue with that logic.
Jenna: I’m holding out for Tommy Schneider. He’s hot and a bad boy. Exactly my type.
Me: He’s also a complete douche and hated by pretty much every Blades player. His dad is an even bigger dick for what he did to Scorpions defenseman, Zach Evans, back when Jon played for them.
Kendra: Yeah, Jack has been in a bad mood since he found out about the trade. He isn’t looking forward to Tommy’s first practice session with them on Monday.
Jenna: So, sleeping with him and bringing him to Collins’s party is out of the question?
Collins: I mean, he’ll already be at the party since we’re inviting the team and can’t exactly leave him out, but you’ve heard of the movie Sleeping with the Enemy, right? Another classic from my queen, Julia Roberts.
Jenna: Sigh. Strike him off my list then. Why do the bad boys always have to be dicks? Like, can’t they act the part, but underneath, they’re all gooey and romantic?
Collins: What about a biker? They might fit your needs.
Jenna: At this point, I’ll take any viable option.
Collins: Okay, so I’m going with six places between the three of you.
Kendra: Who is Darcy bringing?
Collins: I guess I assumed everything with Archer would be out in the open by January …
I stand in the middle of our hotel suite on Miami Beach, staring down at my phone and the Vivienne Westwood ivory satin minidress Archer picked out especially for today.
It’s perfect. The second he unzipped the bag and showed it to me, I cried—big tears. If I’d chosen my own dress, I’d have gone for something completely different. Likely a long fishtail with a lace bodice.
This one is a peplum style that’s cinched at the waist, the skirt puffing out and stopping mid-thigh. Thick straps lead down to a V-shaped neckline, accentuating my petite figure.
And just when I thought it couldn’t get any better than the dress fitting me perfectly, Archer showed me the pearl earrings he had bought to match.
I kept my hair in the long braid I know he loves and my makeup natural.
Everything about today feels natural. Like it was meant to happen. And as much as I want to scream to my friends about where I am and what I’m doing, I also don’t. After today, we’ll need to burst our own bubble and let the world in.
Me: Yes, it will. I can’t hide this baby bump forever, and it’s time to tell everyone. We plan to soon.
Kendra: Oh, thank the Lord. I, for one, am terrible at secrets, but I did it for you.
Collins: I enjoy a good secret.
Jenna: I’d enjoy anything other than the spin bike I’m on right now.
Collins: Exercise is gross. Ezra tried to get me to go on a run the other day. It was a hard pass from me. So, instead, we went for a ride.
The suite door cracks open, and Archer steps into the room. Dressed in dark blue suit trousers, tan loafers, and a white open-necked shirt, he looks delicious, especially with his chain on show.
When he styled his hair this morning, he kept it simple, dark pieces falling over his eyes. He also kept the scruff on his jaw since he knows I like to feel that against my fingertips.
Along with other places.
I close out the text thread and place my mobile face down on a side table. No phones today.
Just us.
Archer still hasn’t said anything as he walks toward me, carrying a small white bag in his left hand, eyes locked on mine the whole time. When he left to go run an errand, I took the opportunity to get dressed.
The second he reaches me, he loops his big arms around my waist, locking my body against his.
He smells incredible. All woodsy and spicy and manly.
I tip my chin up to look at my fiancé. The difference in our heights is especially noticeable since I’m not wearing any shoes.
“You’ve rendered me speechless, Doll,” he purrs into my ear.
“When I picked out this dress …” He smooths a palm over my ass, squeezing it a little, and I feel my underwear grow damp.
“I knew it was the one, I knew you’d look perfect in it.
” He pulls back from me, gaze descending my body.
“But you look like a fucking angel. An angel carrying my baby.”
He walks a few feet to a wardrobe, setting the white bag he was carrying inside before he pulls out a white shoebox. As he removes the lid on his way back over to me, a pair of white Gucci pumps comes into view. They’re flat and simple but with the cutest yellow bows stitched to the toe.
“I hope you don’t mind that they haven’t got a heel. They just screamed my girl when I saw them and then had the yellow bows added.”
I move my gaze from the pretty pumps to his face. “You had the bows stitched on?”
He shrugs, cheeks pinkening slightly, and it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. It’s rare Archer flushes, but I guess it isn’t everyday you get hitched.
Especially not in secret.
“Yellow reminds me of you. One of my favorite dresses you wear is yellow, and it’s the color of sunshine.”
He bends down, taking the shoes from the box and placing them to the side.
Carefully, I slide each foot into a pump while he holds them for me.
A bubble of giddy laughter climbs up my throat. “You’re like Prince Charming or something.”
Standing back up, Archer cups the nape of my neck in his hand. “You’ve always reminded me of Rapunzel, with your hair and cute features.”
I cock my head to the side, thinking it over. “I can get on board with being a Disney princess.”
On a slow exhale, Archer dips a hand into his pocket. “I bought you something else yellow too.”
My breath catches in my throat. As a girl, I always dreamed of the moment a boy asked me to marry him.
I pictured him down on one knee with a beautiful landscape behind us, my hair blowing in the breeze while he wore a suit and bow tie.
I imagined a crowd of our friends and family surrounding us and a party into the small hours of the morning.
It’s amazing how societal norms can be the complete opposite of what we truly want—and need—in our lives.
With Liam, I thought that’s what I wanted too.
But as Archer pops the lid on a small velvet box and a princess-cut yellow diamond on a thin white gold band stares back at me, I realize this is what fate planned all along.
Archer was right when he said we were always meant to be.
Just like the old horse chestnut tree in Fort Greene Park, a love like this grows from the deepest roots. And even though it can take a long while to surface, its strength is unwavering.
Like everything else Archer buys me, the fit is perfect when he slides it onto my left hand, interlacing our fingers together.
“Do you like it?” he asks, his voice thick, his eyes glossy.
“What do you think?” My throat is as tight as his sounds.
We both stand in the silence of our suite, taking in the moment.
He pulls me in for a searing kiss, his mouth moving over mine. I grow wetter, thinking about how he’ll touch me tonight. As his wife.
“I think it’s time for you to become Mrs. Darcy Moore. Are you ready?”
This time, it’s me who kisses him. Beautiful butterflies shimmering throughout my body. “Yes,” I murmur against his lips. “I’m ready.”
Other than the moonlight casting across the still ocean and the faint lights from our hotel, we’re drenched in complete darkness with no one else around.
I’ve lost track of time. It could be midnight, or the sun might be about to rise as I lie back on the sun lounger, legs spread, with my feet buried in soft sand while my husband devours me.
He licks his way up the insides of my thighs, capturing every drop of release as it trickles down my legs.
It’s been like this since he woke me up, told me to wear his jersey, and led me by the hand to the hotel’s private beach.
We couldn’t get married here, for fear of Archer being recognized and pictures appearing on the internet. From the airport to the hotel, we took a private taxi, and Archer wore a low baseball cap, shielding his face. So, instead, we said our short vows in a small private room and exchanged rings.
I cried the whole time before Archer carried me back to our room.
But now that everyone’s asleep, we finally have a moment to enjoy the beach together. And, oh my God, am I enjoying it.
Archer’s lips shine with my arousal as he stands from the lounger and pushes down his shorts. He steps out of them and comes to sit in front of me, straddling the lounger as he does.
His cock is hard, and pre-cum leaks from it as I reach forward and wrap my palm around the base.
“Fuck me like this,” he breathes out, voice raspy when I drag my grip to the top. “I want my wife to fuck me, just like this.”
Releasing his cock, I rise from the lounger and sit back down, straddling his hips.
With darkened eyes, he looks into mine, tucking a piece of stray hair behind my ear.
I lift up and sink down onto his cock. Our jaws hang open from the way he stretches my pussy, coupled with the delicious sensation of me taking him.
I rock over him for the first time, and he moans into the night, his pleasure blending with the ocean waves as they break against the shore.
“Loving you as my girl was a privilege; loving you as my wife is the highest honor I’ll ever be granted.” He pushes his hips into me, and I take him and his piercings deeper. “Tell me you want more babies with me.”
When I push a hand through his hair, my rings sparkle in the moonlight. “I want so many babies with you. But I also want it all—the career, the lifestyle, and the family.”
Archer runs a hand across his name, which is stamped on the back of the white jersey he gave me. Even through the thin material, my skin tingles from his touch, and I tighten around his shaft.
“I’ll tell you a million times over until you truly believe it one day: nothing about you or what you want from this life is too much. I promise that, with me, you can have it all.”
As Archer grows harder inside me, I come all over him. I’m impaled on his dick, moving over his body in rough, ragged motions as I fight back my cries.
He reaches beneath the hem of the jersey and finds my swollen clit, pinching it between his fingers.
“It’s okay to scream, Doll. In fact, now that you’re officially mine, it’s mandatory.
Every time you take my cock, I want to hear you chant my name, right in between the delicious sounds this pretty wife’s pussy makes. ”
“Your mouth—it’s filthy,” I moan as he gathers our joint arousal onto his fingers and takes them into his mouth.
He offers his fingers to me next, and I open, sucking them clean.
Archer’s cocky grin appears, his top lip quirked. “What were you saying about dirty mouths? Because I’d say this NHL playboy has infiltrated his innocent British girl.”
Lifting up, I drop back down, and he grits his teeth, trying not to blow.
“You’re right about that. Now, come in me.”
I feel like a world away from the girl who first slept with Archer, the one who thought she preferred zero eye contact and could only orgasm in one position. “I can’t wait to have your baby.”
He releases my clit and pulls the jersey over my head, throwing it on the lounger next to us. My breasts feel sensitive against the cool night air, and it only kicks up the intensity. Next, he loops his hands under my thighs and lifts me up until only the tip of his dick is inside.
He holds me there, staring down at the small bump, which I swear gets visibly bigger each day. Or maybe that’s just my excitement to meet Emily.
I’m suspended, my feet off the ground as, slowly, he fills me again.
Archer does all the work in taking my full weight, although he handles me like I’m lighter than a feather, his biceps flexing as he guides my body over his.
He fucks me slow, staring up at me with awe in his eyes, need etched into his features and perspiration above his brow.
I spread my legs wider and grip his shoulders, leaving the marks I know he loves.
“I’m going to blow,” he grits out. “Your pussy is strangling the willpower out of me.”
My words sound more like a pleasure-filled moan when I press my forehead into his and reach down between us, cupping and playing with his balls. “Don’t hold back, Thigh Boy. Be a good boy now and fill your wife up.”