“That was certainly…interesting. Fun but interesting, for sure.”

At Ivy’s recap of the night, I can’t resist the laugh that breaks free. “It’s never a dull moment with these two.” Especially with Violet’s interrogation of sorts. I never expected her to ask Ivy whether she’s a fan of Taylor Swift or Katy Perry.

“They really love you.” It’s not so much her words that give me pause as the way she says them.

“Well, I love them.” My voice is husky with emotion because it’s the truth. “I’m lucky to be in their lives.”

Speaking of my two favorite ladies, I’ve buckled them safely in my vehicle, running the air-conditioning to combat some of the August humidity. Emilia’s already asleep, and Violet looks like she’s not far behind.

“I’d better get these girls back home and put them to bed before it gets much later.”

“Uncle Becket? Can we have your special sunflower butter-granola wrap for breakfast?” Violet’s groggy voice calls out.

I duck inside my open driver’s side door. “Of course.”

I turn to Ivy and flash an apologetic look. “I have to call it a night. It’s slumber party weekend, and I have to get them back to my place.”

Ivy raises her eyebrows. “Oh, really? A slumber party weekend at Uncle Becket’s place sounds like a blast.”

“It is!” Violet pipes up suddenly from her seat. “Sometimes we paint each other’s nails and do hair, and we usually watch a movie, too.”

“Wow, that must be fun!” Ivy grins up at me.

“Well, good night, Ivy.” I hesitate. “Let me know you got home safe, will you?”

“I will,” she murmurs softly.

Just as she turns away to walk over to her bike, I snag her wrist. Ever so gently, I draw her closer and reach to tuck her hair behind her ear. Then I duck my head and bring my lips close.

“Thanks for tonight.” With each word, my lips dust against the shell of her ear. She shivers when my hot breath washes over her skin.

“It was my pleasure.” Her voice sounds husky with arousal, yet she still retreats a small step. “Good night, Becket.”

* * *

I’m collapsing into bed after finally getting the girls settled for the night when my phone vibrates with another text message. Earlier, she’d let me know she’d made it home safely.

Ivy: I feel like I need to give you effusive thanks for letting me join you tonight.

There’s no way to restrain my wide smile at her message.

Me: Nice usage of our Word of the Day. Thanks for your fervid enthusiasm tonight.

Ivy: I’m also under no impression that I’m using that word in proper context.

I chuckle softly, and my thumb hovers over the keys as I waver with indecision. I loved having her with us tonight, and the girls immediately took to her, even with Violet’s usual curious interrogation. Ivy hadn’t batted an eye, though. She’d been exactly how I’d imagined she’d be.

Perfect.

“Except she’s anti-relationship,” I mutter to myself. These are the moments when it’s a curse to be a guy who doesn’t just want to get laid. Who wants more.

I stare down at my phone for a beat. Then I text her back.

Me: Want to come over for breakfast and experience my famous granola wraps?

A few seconds later, Ivy calls.

“Hey.”

“Tell me more about these granola wraps you speak of.” Ivy’s voice has a faint raspy quality, and when I detect the sound of covers shifting, my brain goes directly to the gutter.

Dammit. Sometimes being a gentleman is a curse.

I exhale slowly. “Well, I have this thick whole wheat tortilla—gluten-free since Emilia has a sensitivity—and I spread on some organic sunflower butter, drizzle a little honey over it, and then sprinkle it with granola. Fold it in half and voilà!”

She groans, and it sends a surge of arousal directly to my dick. “That sounds delicious.”

“Does that mean you’ll join us?” Damn, I hate the hopeful inflection in my voice. Pathetic.

“I don’t know.” I can hear the smile in her tone. “Promise you won’t lock me in your underground bunker?”

“Let’s not get too crazy here, woman. Gotta let me have some excitement.”

Her soft laugh warms me, and I find myself grinning like a crazy person.

“Well, you’ll have to give me directions.”

I barely resist the urge to pump my fist in the air and attempt to maintain a casual tone. “I’ll text you my address and gate code.”

“Gate code, huh?” There’s a teasing lilt to her tone. “Ah, I forgot you’re the famous baseball player.”

“Ivy,” I warn playfully, knowing she’s pushing my buttons. “Football. I play football.”

She laughs in response before quieting, and there’s a hint of worry in her words. “You realize I know nothing about sports, right?”

“Not a problem. I can teach you. That’s what friends are for.”

Just so happens this “friend” fantasizes about doing even friendlier things to you.

“Okay, what time should I be there?”

“Eight sharp.”

“Ooh, demanding already.”

“Ivy?” I change gears abruptly because I can’t hold back anymore.

“Becket?” she answers, amusement lining her tone.

I blow out a long breath. “I’ve got to be honest with you.” I glance down at my boxer briefs, at the unmistakable evidence of what merely speaking to Ivy does to me. “I like you.”

“I…like you, too.” Her response is cautious.

“I like you a lot.” Jesus. I sound like a ten-year-old kid. Rushing on, I say, “And I apologize in advance if this offends you.” I slide a hand behind my head and stare up at the ceiling. “But hell”—I break off with a short laugh—“I think of you as more than just a…friend.”

Specifically, of her here in my bed. Of her here in the morning—not while the girls are around, of course—and how hot it could be if I licked some of that honey and sunflower butter off her.

Shit. I’m such a damn perv.

When she doesn’t respond, a tinge of panic courses through me, and I press on. “Although, I have to also mention I like talking to you, and I’d—”

“Becket.” God, the way she says my name nearly has me coming undone. Because the sensual huskiness has me imagining her saying my name over and over again while I make her come.

“Ivy,” I parrot back softly.

“I think about you, too.”

“Do you?” The biggest damn grin spreads across my face.

“Oh, yes.”

“Do tell, Miss Hayes.”

“I think of you when I’m in bed.” There’s a slight hitch in her breathing.

Fucking hell. She’s just opened Pandora’s box. “I’m thinking of you right now. Wishing you were in bed with me.”

There’s a rustling again like she’s shifting beneath the covers. “What would you do if I were there with you?”

“First, I’d kiss you, like I’ve been dying to.”

“And where would you kiss me?” There’s a hint of mischief in her tone.

A subdued laugh spills from my lips, and I admonish playfully, “Ivy Hayes. You naughty woman, you.” After a beat, I add, “On your lips, for starters.”

“Are you a good kisser?”

“You’ll find out how good I am tomorrow.”

“Ah, promises, promises.” She pauses. “What happens after you kiss me?”

“According to the girls, we’d live happily ever after.”

The laugh she lets loose is one I haven’t yet heard. It has a different quality to it; it’s more unpolished and happier.

I internally vow to do everything in my power to make her laugh like this again.

“Hey, Becket?” Her voice is softer, barely more than a whisper.

“Yes?”

“I like you, too. And I’ll let you in on a secret.” Her tone is hushed.

“What’s that?”

“I’m touching myself right now.” This time, her breath audibly hitches.

Fuck me. “Jesus, Ivy.” I shove my boxer briefs down and kick them off. With my hand wrapped around the thick shaft of my cock, I let my eyes fall closed at the thought of her doing this to me. “You’ve got me hard as hell right now.”

“I wish I were there, so I could touch you.”

“Are you wet, Ivy?” My own voice is gravelly, hoarse as I work my cock in long, sure strokes.

“Yes,” she answers breathlessly.

“I’d give anything to feel how wet you are right now. To taste you.” Fuck. I run the pad of my thumb over the moisture that’s gathering at the head of my cock.

“God, yes,” she breathes. “I want to come on your tongue.”

At her hypnotically arousing words, I fist my length. “You’ll work your clit while I fuck you with my tongue.” The image is so vivid in my mind that it drags a groan from the back of my throat. “Your thighs clench around me, and you thrust against my mouth when you come.”

Ivy’s breathing is labored now. “Becket…”

“Fuck,” I groan. “Then I’d push deep inside you, feel how slick you are. And I’d make you come all over again.”

“I’m so close,” she whispers raggedly.

“Me, too.” I’m working my cock in rapid, thorough strokes.

“Becket.” Hearing her cry out my name sends me over the edge, and my own release spills over my fist and onto my stomach.

Our harsh breathing is the only sound for a few moments as we get ourselves under control.

“Becket Jones.” Ivy exhales my name. “All I’ve got to say is those granola wraps of yours better measure up tomorrow. I’d hate to leave disappointed.”

I smile and huff out a little laugh. “Trust me. You won’t be leaving here disappointed.” I grab some tissues and wipe myself clean.

“Promises, promises,” she teases.

“Go pray for forgiveness for taking advantage of an innocent man and I’ll see you in the morning.”

She snickers. Her voice carries a hint of tenderness as she says, “Good night, Becket.”

“Night, Ivy.”