Page 31 of Reclaimed

“Anything to do with not seeing my family. Not accepting Chevy.”

My pinky twitches where it’s still hooked with his. “I’d kick you out long before I’d ever kick out Chevy. He’s the sweetest boy.”

He grins and takes a glance at the boy, who’s nudging hard against his leg. “He can get feisty, I’m not going to lie.”

“I don’t believe you.”

My phone rings on the counter beside the coffee pot. After what feels like an eternity, we unlock our fingers.

“It’s Juniper.”

“Have you told her about us?”

“There isn’t anus, Powell.”

“She’s going to have to find out for this little situation to work.” He rolls his eyes and spins around, glancing over his shoulder. “I’d say there’s enough to consider us an us.”

“In your dreams,” I mutter, fighting back a smile.

“Absolutely.”

I shake my head as I direct my attention to the phone ringing in my hand.

Chevy demonstrates his displeasure at Aiden’s departure with a low warble.

“Ah, fuck!” Aiden bellows.

A high-pitched meow accompanies Chevy’s lunge. His claws sink into the back of Aiden’s towel, dragging the loose cotton to the floor as he lands and giving me a spectacular view of Aiden’s bare backside.

My god. He has a glorious ass.

The muscle is round and taut, covered by smooth, tan skin. Not a coiled hair or pluckable whisker marring the real estate. There’s famous marble statues in museums with asses that pale in comparison to Aiden Powell’s butt.

I’ve been surrounded by mostly naked people for around a decade. I’ve seen a lot of bare bodies both on and off the stage. I’d consider myself quite the expert on the male and female forms.

And I don’t judge. I love all bodies of all types. Butthat? Might as well call me a man for the way I salivate over his literal piece of ass.

“Oh my god,” I giggle, not displeased in the slightest at the turn of events.

“Chevy, you bastard.” Aiden retrieves his towel with a squat, cognizant enough to not flash me his balls between his legs.

The cat licks his paw.

Aiden hops around the corner, before peeking back in with a red hue to his cheeks. “Sorry about that.”

“Oh, not a problem at all. I can’t say I hated it,” I tease, and his blush deepens. “I gotta take this.”

“If you tell her—”

“What? That I just got a front row seat to her brother in-law’s bare ass before I finished my first cup of coffee?”

“Isla,” he warns.

“Don’t worry. She’d have too many questions that I’m not ready to answer.”

With that, I swipe my screen before the call goes to voicemail.

“Good morning,” I sing-song, my mood much improved from a few minutes ago.

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