Page 53 of Shootout Daddies
She’s letting me take care of her. Letting herself rest.
That does something to me.
Not in the usual way—though yeah, that too—but deeper. It’s in the soft line of her mouth as the heat loosens her tension, the way she surrenders to the feeling without flinching or fussing.
She trusts me. With her body. With her silence. With the baby sleeping a few feet away and the chaos of our week still echoing through the halls, she lets herself be still.
I press my thumb just behind her ear, massaging gently, and her lips part on a quiet sigh.
“Feels good,” she murmurs, not even opening her eyes.
“I know,” I say softly. “I’ve got you.”
I rinse her hair slowly, careful not to splash her face, guiding her head under the stream. Her body leans back into mine instinctively, her spine brushing my chest.
My cock stirs with the friction, but I force myself to hold steady. This moment feels too rare, too delicate to rush. I just want to take care of her. I want her to feel cherished.
She turns slightly, water running down the curve of her shoulder. I brush her wet hair to one side and press a kiss just beneath her jaw. She hums again, low and content, and my hand skims her waist, settling just above her hip.
Behind us, the glass door creaks open. I don’t have to look to know it’s Hunter. His footsteps are slow, casual, as he steps into the steam with us.
Ivy doesn’t startle. Doesn’t even move. Instead, she smiles.
“Hey,” she says, eyes still closed.
Hunter’s hands slide around her from behind, palms smoothing over her slick stomach. “Hey, baby,” he murmurs against her skin, dropping a kiss to her shoulder.
She shivers, just slightly, her back arching as he settles in close. The three of us standing there, bodies aligned, warm water cascading over skin—it feels like something ancient. Like this is how it’s always supposed to be.
I turn off the faucet.
“Too hot?” Hunter asks.
“Just enough,” I answer, grabbing the conditioner. I pour a dollop into my hand and meet Ivy’s gaze. “Tilt your head again.”
She obeys, obedient but teasing, and I take my time. My fingers slide through the strands of her hair, detangling gently. She moans once when I scratch lightly at her scalp.
“Damn,” Hunter mutters behind her. “This is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
I smirk, but keep my eyes on Ivy. “You’re blushing.”
“Because you’re worshipping my scalp.”
“Deserves to be worshipped.”
She laughs, and Hunter slips his hand up between her breasts, his mouth brushing her wet shoulder again. I can feel her heartbeat in the air between us.
“Switch,” I say after a beat.
Hunter raises an eyebrow but steps aside. Ivy turns slowly, her bare skin gliding against ours as she repositions between us. Now she’s facing him. I’m behind her.
I take her hips in both hands, steadying her as she lifts her arms to wrap around Hunter’s neck.
His lips find hers immediately. Slow, searching. The kind of kiss that deepens until everything else disappears.
I lean forward and kiss the nape of her neck. Once. Twice. Her back presses against my chest again, her ass against my cock. She feels everything.
I reach up to cup her breasts, slick and soft and heavy in my hands, my thumbs brushing over her nipples. She gasps into Hunter’s mouth.
