Page 59 of Twins for the Mountain Daddies

She glances up at me then, and for a second, it’s like I can’t breathe. There’s no teasing smirk, no guarded expression—just Ivy, looking at me like I’m something steady in a world that’s never given her solid ground. And hell if that doesn’t shake me worse than anything else.

I clear my throat, dragging a hand through my hair. “They doing okay?”

She nods, stroking Gremlin’s fur. “Yeah. I think she’s got it handled, but I want to keep an eye on them tonight. Just in case.”

Of course she does. Because Ivy might not have planned for this, but she sure as hell isn’t the type to walk away when someone needs her.

I force my feet to move, stepping back toward the kitchen. “I’ll grab some water and clean up. You should try to get some sleep, too.”

She hums a soft agreement, but I know better.

Holt and Wyatt turned in hours ago, but Ivy’s still fussing over Gremlin and her little kittens. I should be in bed, too. I intended to do just that, but my feet found their way back here without my permission.

So, here I am, lingering like a creep in the doorway, watching her.

She looks different in the dim glow of the firelight. Softer. She’s barefoot and wrapped in one of my old sweatshirts she must’ve found in the laundry basket. It’s too big on her, sleeves hanging past her wrists, the hem brushing her mid-thigh.

I swallow hard and lean against the frame, clearing my throat just enough to catch her attention. She turns, blinking sleepily at me. “Couldn’t sleep?”

That’s it. That soft, innocent question is the last goddamn straw.

I’ve spent weeks shoving this feeling down, trying to be the reasonable one, the steady one. But I can’t keep pretending.Not when she’s sitting there in my sweatshirt, looking like she belongs in my home, my space—like she belongs to me.

Fuck it.

I’ve had enough of pretending, enough of keeping my distance.

I push off the doorframe, closing the space between us in a few long strides. Her eyes widen, surprise flickering across her face, but she doesn’t move away. Doesn’t look away.

“Ivy.” Her name comes out rough, more of a growl than a word.

She barely has time to breathe before I wrap a hand around the soft curve of her throat, tilting her chin up, forcing her to see everything I’ve been holding back.

And then I kiss her.

Hard. Desperate. Every pent-up emotion I’ve been shoving down, every stolen glance, every late-night thought—I pour it all into her. She melts into me, fingers gripping my shirt, pulling me closer like she’s been waiting just as long for this.

I don’t remember carrying her to my room, but I sure as hell remember the way she gasped when her back hit my mattress, the way her legs wrapped around me when I covered her body with mine. She feels like she belongs here.

Maybe she does. Maybe I’ve been fighting the inevitable.

I brace myself above her, my forehead resting against hers, trying to catch my breath. She deserves a second to stop this before I lose every ounce of control I have left.

But Ivy doesn’t stop me.

She lifts her hips, pressing up against me and my vision goes dark around the edges. “Hank,” she whispers, her voice wrecked, pleading.

That’s all it takes.

I groan, deep and guttural, as the last thread of restraint snaps. My mouth crashes against hers, and she takes everythingI give her—every ounce of need, every unspoken word. My fingers dig into her hips, pinning her beneath me, feeling the way she arches into my touch.

I tear my shirt over my head, barely breaking the kiss before I’m pulling hers off, too. My palms find her bare skin, warm and smooth, her body trembling under my touch. She’s so damn beautiful it almost hurts to look at her.

I drag my lips down her neck, tasting the delicate skin, biting just hard enough to make her gasp. Her fingers tangle in my hair, tugging, urging me closer, and fuck, I’m already gone for her.

“Tell me you want this,” I murmur against her collarbone, my voice wrecked.

Her breath shudders. “I want this.” Her hands skim down my back, nails biting into my skin, and then she adds, “I want you.”

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