Page 99 of The Sexy Ex's Brother
“Maybe later,” she says with a small smile. “I need to nap first.” The jet lag is still written all over her face, and she disappears into the guest room.
***
By the time Ivy preheats the oven, the quiet of the apartment has settled into something soft and unhurried. “Brownies are a moral imperative,” she declares. Emma, catching the sticker on Ivy’s phone before slipping away, actually laughs.
Hours drift by. We bake. We eat. We relax. The day unspools lazily, and Emma sleeps so long we exchange a glance that says neither of us is surprised. When she finally reappears, it’s only to murmur a good night before closing her door again.
When the light under her door fades, I go to Ivy. Her back’s against the counter, her eyes reading me like a map.
“She let us in a little today,” she says.
“She did. And I need you to hear this, I’m in. All the way. You and Emma… you’re it. My family. No question marks.”
Her eyes soften. “Jack…”
“I love you. I’m not going anywhere.”
“I love you too. And I’m here. For both of you.”
I kiss her, slow at first, until it isn’t. Her hands slide under my shirt, warm against my skin, nails just enough to make my breath hitch.
“I want you. Now.”
Her smile’s a dare. “Then come here.”
I lift her onto the counter, her knees parting to pull me in. My hands find her hips, thumbs tracing the line where skin meets cotton. I pull her sweatshirt over her head in one motion, her hair tumbling free. I take a moment, just to look at her, bare shoulders catching the kitchen light, pupils wide.
She tugs my shirt up, fingers brushing over my chest like she’s memorizing it again. The shirt hits the floor. I kiss her harder, until we’re both breathing like we’ve been running.
I slide my hands beneath the waistband of her leggings, thumbs hooking in soft fabric, easing it down as she leans back slightly to let them fall away. I press a kiss to the inside of her knee, then higher, feeling the shiver run through her before I stand and lift her off the counter.
Her arms wrap around my neck, mouth hot against my jaw as I carry her down the hall. In the bedroom, I set her on the bed but don’t follow right away. I just stand there a second, taking in the sight, hair loose, lips parted, looking at me like she already knows I’m hers.
When I climb in beside her, my hands roam, over her stomach, her ribs, the swell of her breasts. She arches into me,eyes fluttering when I take my time with my mouth on her, tasting skin still warm from the day. Her fingers thread into my hair, urging me closer.
I move lower, slow enough to make her whisper my name, and when I finally push my dick inside her, she gasps, soft and wrecked and perfect. My forehead rests against hers as we find the rhythm, her nails dragging down my back, pulling me deeper.
There’s no rush. Just the kind of heat that builds until it’s impossible to hold back. Her legs wrap tight around me, her breath catching as her body tightens around mine. I kiss her through it, through the sharp crest and the fall, until we’re both shaking and still pressed as close as two people can be.
I stay inside her, hand cradling the back of her head. “You’re my family. Always.”
Her lips curve against my skin. “Guess I’d better get used to that.”
We lie there in the afterglow, the city dim beyond the glass, her body warm against mine. I think about rings and vows and the way the word wife would sound in my mouth. And somewhere down the hall, Emma is sleeping in her room, part of this now, in ways that matter. I don’t say any of it. Not yet. I just hold Ivy, letting the night fold around us, knowing the next step is already waiting.
EPILOGUE - THREE MONTHS LATER - IVY
The air smells faintly of roses and rain. Somewhere beyond the ivy-draped archway, I can hear the murmur of voices, friends, family, people who have been waiting for this almost as long as we have.
The rooftop garden is a patch of green against the city’s glass-and-steel edges, strung with lights that glow even in the late afternoon sun. It feels like our own little pocket of the world, suspended above the noise.
I smooth my dress, fingertips grazing the silk. My heart is a drum in my chest, steady and loud.
“Ready?” Sienna peeks in, grinning like she already knows the answer.
“As I’ll ever be,” I say. But my eyes drift past her, toward the aisle I can’t see yet. Toward Jack.
Emma is waiting with the rest of the wedding party, pale blue dress swaying around her knees, hair pulled back in a braid threaded with tiny white flowers. She catches my gaze and lifts the velvet ring box just enough for me to see it. My throat tightens.
