Page 72 of Shootout Daddies
“No,” I whisper, shaking my head fast, clutching him tighter. “Don’t stop.”
Something breaks in him. His other hand seizes my hip, dragging me against the hard line of his body.
I should stop him. I know I should. But my body betrays me, knees softening, heat flaring low in my belly.
He tears his mouth from mine, groans, presses his forehead against mine like he’s hanging on by a thread. “I don’t fucking hate you at all, Ivy. That’s the problem.”
I don’t think I’ve ever hated him him either.
He tugs at my earlobe, making me buck needily against him. His hand slides down, over my hip, shoving under the waistband of my leggings.
“Are you wet for me?”
“Yes—” The word barely leaves me before his fingers find me, pressing hard, rubbing in rough circles that make my head spin.
“Fuck,” he mutters against my mouth, like he’s the one undone. “You lied, Ivy. You’re fucking soaked.”
His fingers tease my entrance as his thumb presses down on my clit.
The shock of it steals my breath. He’s not careful. He’s not slow. He’s all control and precision, every movement like he knows exactly how to unravel me.
And I let him. I want him. My hips buck into his hand, my moan swallowed by his kiss, pleasure ripping through me too fast, too sharp, too good.
I come apart clinging to him, trembling, boneless, every nerve lit.
When it’s over, he pulls his hand free, chest heaving, face taut with conflict. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
And then he’s gone. Just like that. The door clicks shut, and I’m left in the silence, heart racing, sweat cooling on my skin.
I sink onto the sofa, pulling my knees to my chest, hands covering my face. What the hell just happened?
My phone is in my hand before I’ve even decided to move. I hit Brooke’s name, press call, and pace while it rings.
She answers on the second ring. “Hey. What’s up?”
My voice comes out high, shaky. “I need you. Can you come over? Please?”
Her tone sharpens immediately. “Ivy? What happened?”
I squeeze my eyes shut, my chest tight. “It’s… it’s Landon. He came by. And I—shit, Brooke—I kissed him. I let him touch me. And now I don’t know what to do.”
There’s a pause. Then, “I’m on my way.”
“Just last night we were talking about me and the guys being in a real relationship,” I ramble, words tumbling too fast. “And now this? I can’t—I don’t even know what it means.”
“Ivy,” she cuts in firmly. “Stop spiraling. I’m coming over. We’ll figure it out together.”
I clutch the phone tighter, nodding even though she can’t see me.
When the call ends, I sink back against the sofa, trembling, the echo of Landon’s touch still sparking along my skin.
I don’t know whether to scream or cry. But I do know one thing—nothing about this is simple anymore.
By the time I hear the guys at the door, my nerves have smoothed into something less sharp, but they’re still there, humming in my chest.
The sound of their voices carries through the hall, low and warm, the kind of tone that usually settles me. Tonight, it only reminds me that I have to find the words to tell them what happened.
Hunter is the first to step inside. He bends to unclip Storm’s leash as the dog barrels into the condo, tail wagging. Rhett lingers at the door a second longer, his eyes scanning my face like he already knows something is off.
