Page 111 of My Ex's Brothers

A record he’s been more than vocal about. I heard about it and then some that night when I visited Richie to watch him work on the Jeep. In the panty-melting way that Daddy reminded me he loves a good challenge.

I run my hands through my hair, wondering how Richie would feel about the possibility of me…being pregnant. We’ve talked about his breeding kink, so I know the idea turns him on, but what would he do, how would he react if Iwas? I know it wouldn’t be his.

Which adds a whole other level of uncharted territory.

I have the startling suspicion that Dane would be thrilled. Tripp is eager to learn, but I also don’t exactly want to detract from his promising career as a Badger.

These are the things I should be thinking about, talking about, but every time one of the Rose brothers or Tripp get near me, my baby fever skyrockets. Which is why today, I must remember to pick up my pills. And a few tests, just to be safe.

When I’m done and out of the shower, I find my way to the kitchen where Dane is once again cooking, while his brothers devour their stacks of pancakes.

“Morning, Mamma Mia,” Tripp says as I approach them, sliding his hand around my waist.

“Good morning, Tripp,” I say, giving him a hug.

Richie pulls me close, between his legs, gently resting his hand on my ass as he smiles up at me. “Morning, beautiful,” he says before Dane pushes through with a plate.

“Hands off, she needs to eat before you heathens get any ideas.” I cast a grin to Dane who smirks at me, his tone softer when he looks at me. “Morning, baby.” He leans in and kisses me quickly before setting my plate down.

This could work, right? I find myself wondering that more than I ever thought I would…

Richie pulls me to sit in his lap as he holds me tight with his arm. “Eat up, baby girl.”

Tripp rolls his eyes as he shoots me a “really?” expression. I can’t help but laugh.

This feels…good. Right.

“I figured we could head over, pick up Lyla, and then grab some coffee and go for a stroll in the park, if you’re up for it,” Dane says, leaning across the counter as he drinks from his mug.

“I think that sounds lovely,” I say honestly. “Can Richie come too?”

Richie grunts. “I have a podcast this morning, so I’m out.”

“Oh, okay then…” I can’t help the disappointment in my voice, which he must hear.

Because he squeezes me a little tighter. “We can go for a walk later, after dinner maybe?” The strange softness in his voice makes both my pussy clench and my heart flutter.

These moments—the slivers of sweetness forcing through the cracks—are so endearing. Richie’s quite…prickly…most of the time, with everyone except me. He isn’t the type to go for long walks or showy fancy dates. He’s much more subtle than that.

Richie is the kind of man who listens. He hears what you say, even the things you dismiss as unimportant. He’s the man who hears you say how much you loved that shirt or that movie, and months later shows up with tickets or a box with the shirt.

And I like that he listens. I like that hetries.

I know this situation isn’t easy for any of us, but I also know enough of Richie to know that relationships, no matter what their dynamic, make him a bit skittish. I would feel the same way if I was divorced, probably.

But he makes an effort, and that means more to me than I think he’ll ever know.

“I’d like that,” I say, stabbing a pancake piece and shoveling it into my mouth.

“I wish I could go,” Tripp pouts. “But I’ve got practice, and then class until nine.”

“Maybe we could do something tomorrow morning? You still owe me a breakfast for the other day.”

He grins and it lights up his bright eyes, making the freckles on his face dance. “Mmm, yes I do.”

I bite my lip, remembering just how I made him lose. It’s not a competition, but knowing he’s capable of multiple orgasms has been something I’ve found quite a turn-on for me. I never thought I’d be into something like that. Tripp told me his record was eight orgasms in the span of twenty-four hours. I’m trying to beat that number.

The boys aren’t the only ones who like a little competition.

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