Page 119 of Shootout Daddies
“Damn it, Hunter,” Rhett mutters, exasperated.
But Ivy blinks up at me, wide-eyed, tears clinging to her lashes. Her mouth parts like she can’t even form words.
I can’t take it back. I wouldn’t. Because it’s true. Because she deserves to know.
Because she deserves everything.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Ivy
The words hitme like a wave, knocking all the air out of my lungs.We bought you a house.I stare at Hunter, at Rhett, at Landon—and my vision swims.
My chest is tight, my heart is racing in a way that has nothing to do with what just happened between us. I feel… seen. Cherished.
Like they weren’t just playing at love or affection, like this… all of this… was theirs, and mine, and meant to last.
I can barely speak. “You… what?” My voice is tiny, fragile, as if it might shatter.
Hunter groans softly, pressing his forehead against mine. “You heard me. A house. For you. For the baby. For us, all of us.”
I blink, trying to process. My fingers brush over the slick, sticky heat of sweat and… them. Over the residual ache inside me, over the gentle swell of my stomach, and over the pool of warmth between my thighs.
It’s too much. Too much in all the ways that matter. My body is trembling, my mind spinning. I feel like I might cry, or laugh, or scream—and maybe all three at once.
Landon shifts, leaning over my shoulder to brush my damp hair from my face. “You’ve earned it, sweetheart. All of it. Youdeserve more than we can even give.” His voice is low, husky, but soft, carrying devotion.
Rhett groans again, louder this time, like he’s annoyed we’re standing here,talking, when we should be… well, continuing. His hand slides along my shoulder, kneading lightly.
“Stop staring like we’re insane. We’re not. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to us. The house? Just a start.”
I swallow hard, my lips trembling. “I… I don’t… I can’t… I mean… this is…”
Hunter laughs, quiet and rough, and kisses the tip of my nose. “It’s a lot. Yeah. But you’re a lot, too. And you’re ours. All of ours.”
I feel tears prick the corners of my eyes. The room smells like sex and sun and salt from the pool, my skin still tingling where they touched me, and yet nothing—nothing—could feel safer or more complete.
I want to reach for them, to clutch them all at once, to tell them everything I’ve been holding in, everything I’ve been scared to want. But words fail me.
Rhett leans down, his forehead pressing to mine this time, his thumb brushing over my cheek. “We’re not asking you to do anything, Ivy. Just… accept it. Accept us.”
And I do. I want to. I lean into him first, letting him cradle me against his chest. Landon presses in from the side, fingers tracing lazy, worshipful circles over my stomach.
Hunter’s hand settles over my hip, his thumb brushing a soft line over my side as he leans close enough that his lips ghost over my ear.
“Say it,” he murmurs. “Say you’re ours.”
My lips part, my throat tight, but I manage it. “I’m… yours.”
All three of them groan in low, messy harmony, and Rhett’s hand cups my jaw as he tilts my face up. “Good. Because you’re not just ours for a night, Ivy. You’re ours for everything. Always.”
My fingers grip the sheets as heat flares again, a lingering ache that twists deliciously between need and love. My body remembers, remembers them, remembers every touch, every kiss, every low whisper of their names I’ve said when I thought I was alone.
My stomach flips with longing and the echo of the orgasms I just rode, and I shiver into them, my whole self surrendering.
Hunter presses a soft kiss to the side of my neck, Rhett nuzzles my jaw, and Landon lays a feather-light kiss over my temple.
“Perfect,” he mutters. “Perfect, Ivy. All of you.”
