Page 66 of Shootout Daddies
I grin, leaning closer. “You’ve been quiet ever since we got home. What’s going on in that head of yours?”
Her lips part, but then she shakes her head quickly. “It’s just—seeing you out there earlier. On the ice. You both looked…” She trails off, fumbling for words.
Rhett smirks. “Hot?”
Her eyes dart between us. She doesn’t answer, but she doesn’t have to.
I chuckle low. “You’ve got a little crush on us, huh?”
That earns me a glare, but her blush deepens, and it’s enough to confirm everything.
Storm’s in his crate, curled up asleep. The soft rise and fall of his breathing fills the space with a steady rhythm, almost like background music to the quiet tension simmering in here.
Ivy shifts again, trying to bury her face against Rhett’s arm, but we’re not letting her off easy. Rhett dips his head, kissing her hair. I lean in from the other side, brushing my lips along her calf.
She shivers.
Before long, we’re kissing her—me capturing her mouth when Rhett pulls back, Rhett tracing his lips along her throat when I give her room to breathe.
The taste of her is addictive. Sweet and warm.
Rhett pulls back with a groan. “How about we order a late dinner before this goes any further?”
I grunt, reluctant but knowing he’s right. If we don’t settle food now, none of us will eat tonight.
We toss around ideas until we land on something easy—Thai. Ivy rattles off her usual order like she’s done a hundred times, and I can’t stop smiling at how natural it feels. Rhett places the call, and soon enough we’re sprawled again, waiting.
That’s when I get the itch.
“How about a card game as we wait?” I suggest, reaching for the cards on the coffee table. “We can make it interesting.”
Ivy arches a brow. “Interesting how?”
“Strip poker,” I say simply.
Her eyes widen, but Rhett’s grin spreads slow and wicked. “I like it.”
The rules don’t even need to be explained. Within minutes, we’re playing fast, losing track of rounds, laughter turning breathless as clothing gets tossed aside.
Ivy’s down to her bra and panties, perched between us, cheeks flushed. I’ve lost everything but my boxers and one sock—don’t even remember how the hell that happened, but Ivy’s giggle when she pointed it out had me too distracted to care. Rhett, somehow, is shirtless but still in his jeans, looking smug as hell about it.
The air is charged. Ivy’s hair clings to her neck, damp with sweat, her laughter turning into low hums of arousal each time we lean in too close.
I can see where this is going. It won’t be long before she’s naked between us, exactly where we want her.
And then the doorbell rings.
The sound slices through the haze, sharp and unexpected. Rhett curses under his breath, shoving up from the couch. “I’ll get it.”
Ivy starts to move off me, but I grab her waist, pulling her back down into my lap. My voice is low, teasing. “You know how much I like having you here.”
She giggles, wriggling just enough to press against me. Her warmth seeps into every inch of me, the thin lace of her panties no barrier at all.
I growl softly, pressing her into the cushions of the sofa. Her body arches, her laugh dissolving into a sharp gasp.
The muffled sound of Rhett’s voice drifts from the doorway. He’s talking to someone, but we can’t make out the words.
I don’t care. Not right now. Not when Ivy’s straddling me, her hands braced against my chest, her lips parted like she’s daring me to claim her.
