Page 88 of Silver Fox's Secret Triplets
When we broke apart, he rested his forehead against mine. "I love you," he whispered. "I've loved you for years, even when I was trying to forget you."
"I love you too," I whispered back.
I curled into his side. My knees brushed his thigh as he slid his arm around me. The warmth of his body sank into mine.I rested my cheek against his shoulder. I breathed him in—soap, aftershave, and something underneath I couldn’t name but always recognized.
“I can’t believe you showed up at my dad's house,” I murmured. “After everything.”
“You really thought I wouldn’t?” His hand moved slowly up and down my arm. “I know I’ve been a mess lately. But I’m not stupid enough to let you go without a fight.”
“I just didn't think you'd come,” I said, my voice low.
He shook his head. “I had to, my heart won't let me sleep at night without you."
“That makes two of us.” I tilted my head and looked up at him. “For years I convinced myself I was better off without you. I thought if I saw you again, I wouldn’t feel a thing.”
He smiled faintly. “And?”
“And I was wrong.”
He leaned down and brushed his lips over my forehead. His hand tightened on my waist.
“I was terrified, Ivy. I still am. But you came back. You walked through all that hurt and shame… You opened the door.”
“Duncan…" I turned to face him more fully. I tucked one leg beneath me. He waited, watching me quietly, his hand still resting on my waist. "What happens now?" I asked.
His thumb traced a slow line over my hip. "We figure it out. Day by day. We make space for the chaos, the early mornings, the tantrums. And we do it together."
"You're sure?"
"I've never been more sure of anything." He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear. "I want bedtime stories. I want burnt waffles on Saturdays. I want to be there when they lose their first teeth, and when they ask about boys or girls or life. I want to know how you take your coffee when you're tired and how you laugh when you're not holding anything back."
I blinked hard, trying not to cry again. "You really want all that?"
"With you? Yeah. I want the whole damn thing."
I leaned in and kissed him. He pulled me into his lap again, arms locking around me, our foreheads touching.
"Then we start tomorrow," I whispered.
"Tomorrow sounds perfect," he said.
And this time, I believed him.
36
DUNCAN
Ivy's words landed deep in my chest, as steady as a promise as heavy as forgiveness. Her breath brushed my lips when she said it. But I couldn't wait for tomorrow. I wanted her now.
I kissed her again—no hesitation, no searching—like I couldn’t get enough of her. Her mouth opened under mine and the tension between us snapped. Her fingers fisted in my shirt and yanked me closer. I slid one hand up her back, the other into her hair, as she shifted in my lap. The press of her body against mine said everything.
I pulled back to look at her. Her lips were flushed. Her chest rose fast. That familiar heat moved through me. “You still mad at me?” I asked.
Her fingers tightened in my collar. “Try harder," she purred and her hooded gaze invited me to continue.
I kissed her again, deeper this time, until everything else faded. The silence. The past. The hurt. I pulled her shirt up. She lifted her arms, and I stripped it away and her bra followed.
I relearned her slowly, my hands framing her ribcage. My thumbs traced under her breasts. I dipped my head and took onenipple into my mouth. She gasped, arching into me, her fingers clutching at my shoulders.
