“Well, I like it,” Harper said before she headed toward the kitchen.
Cujo studied Trent as his friend watched her go. “You are such a pussy.”
“Says the guy who grew out a shaved head because your wife thought you looked like a criminal.”
“Fair play. We’re both fucking whipped. Maybe we should warn Reid—”
“Warn me about what?” Reid said, placing his hand on Lia’s lower back to guide her into the house ahead of him.
Lia kissed Trent and Cujo on the cheek. “Hey, guys. Kitchen?”
Cujo nodded and took the bottle of wine she handed him. Wisely, he waited for Lia to disappear from earshot before continuing. “Don’t do it, mate,” Cujo said, grinning. “We’ve just concluded we’re pussy-whipped and wanted to warn you. Run to Albuquerque while you can and stay single.”
Reid laughed and slapped Trent on the back. “Sorry, guys, but I can’t wait to marry her. She can whip my pussy all she wants. Or let me whip hers. Whatever.”
“Jesus Christ,” Trent said, covering his ears. “I don’t need to hear more about your sex life. I heard plenty of it at the beach house we rented this summer.”
Cujo grinned. “I’m so glad we ended up on the other side of the hall.”
“What can I say? We verbalize. From the radio silence from your rooms, I can only conclude no pussy-whipping was going on.”
“What the heck are you three discussing in the hallway?” Drea asked, a tray of canapés in her hand.
Cujo grabbed two off the plate and popped them in his mouth. “How much we love and respect our wives and wife-to-be.”
Drea rolled her eyes. “Well, come and love and respect your wives and wife-to-be in the family room.”
Trent kissed the top of her head as he walked by. “Hey, Sweetheart.”
Reid grinned and stole a pastry off the tray, following Trent’s lead.
“Pussy-whipped, is it?” she asked playfully.
“Joke, Shortcake. You know I would never take anything harder than my dick to your pussy. I love it too much.”
Drea snorted and shook her head. “It’s a good job I love you,” she said. She followed Trent and Reid to the family room, but before she turned the corner, she glanced over her shoulder and smiled at him. And it had always been her smile that had knocked him on his ass.
“Yeah,” Cujo whispered, letting her words settle in his chest. “It’s a good job you do.”
4
“Fuck me, Babe,” Dred said, throwing an arm to shield his eyes from the light. “What are you doing?”
Pixie stood at the bottom of their bed in an old Preload tour T-shirt and shimmied her butt. “We’re going home today,” she squeaked. “I’m so freaking excited.” Glee radiated from her, from her eyes, her smile, the way she shook her ass… an ass he’d wanted to wake up next to and perhaps play with for a little while.
He rolled over and glanced at his phone. “The flight’s not until ten, which is four hours away.” He sat up, allowing the sheet to drop from his body. Deliberately, he ran his hand over his chest. Weirdly, the move made Pixie more susceptible to his charms and she knew it.
“Stop with the hand thing,” she said.
He ran his hand down past his navel. “You love the hand thing. Come get back in bed and let me reacquaint you with other parts of me that you love.”
“I get to see those parts of you every day and twice on Sunday. But, today I get to see everybody, and I get to see Lia before she gets married tomorrow. And I get to see Cujo and Trent and smell the sea air and get sand in my shoes. I don’t have time for your sexy shenanigans right now.”
“Sexy shenanigans?” he asked, unable to control his smirk. To tempt her more, he slid his hand beneath the sheet.
“Nope. No. Uh-uh,” she said, covering her eyes. “I’m not looking at whatever it is you think you are doing under there.” She turned to face their bathroom. “Four hours is going to fly by. Petal needs a bath before we go. Arwen needs feeding. I have to finish packing up Lia’s wedding dress.”
Dred pulled his hand back above the covers. “You win,” he said, throwing the sheet back and climbing out of bed. He walked towards her and slid his hands beneath the hem of the T-shirt to cup her ass. “But when we get the kids settled tonight, I’m going to claim this.” He squeezed her cheeks to make his point.
Pixie reached up on her toes and kissed him softly. “It’s already yours,” she said. “You liked it and put a ring on it, remember?” She flashed her engagement ring and wedding band at him. He remembered the day they’d said I do on a private Caribbean island with their closest friends during a party that had lasted a week.
“I just like to remind you.” He pressed his lips to hers, savoring the quiet moment with her before the girls woke up. He slid his hand into her hair, hair she had dyed white the week before, scaring the shit out of him. He liked it, but at first glance after a day recording with the guys, he thought some crazy stalker had broken into their home. With Lia’s color theme being red, she’d decided to go white for her best friend, even though Lia would never have asked her to.
“Have I told you how much I like this?” he said, running his fingers through the end of her long bob.
“The color or the cut?”
“Both. I mean, I liked it before. But this is like waking up with a different woman. Kinda kinky to get to have sex with you as a different you.”
“I didn’t figure you for a role-play guy. I can get wigs.”
He shook his head, tugging on her hair gently. “If it’s not attached to you, I won’t be able to get into it. You are the only person I want to make love to for the rest of my life. I don’t need you to pretend to be anybody else.”
“Such a sweet-talker.”
“I’ll get breakfast, passports, all that shit going while you shower.” And with a light tap on her ass that made Pixie laugh and his heart burst as it always did when he took the time to truly look at her, he grabbed his phone and left the bedroom.
Their house was warm, a luxury he still appreciated every single morning. Pixie never mentioned his need for heat, but he never wanted any of his girls to experience the sensation of waking up and feeling the cold. He pulled up the waistband of his black pajama bottoms and walked along the hallway.
His phone buzzed and he checked the screen.
Do I need to get anything special for Lexi to fly?
Jordan.
Dred had a feeling that while Jordan was most definitely embracing the idea of pending fatherhood, it would trigger some of Jordan’s deepest fears of loss and abandonment. He thought back to when Pixie was pregnant with Arwen.
If she still gets morning sickness, you might want to be prepared for that, he typed.
There was a pause.
Does our travel policy include pregnancy-related stuff?
Dred smiled. Dude, yes… she’s covered. But given the size of your bank account, you could buy a fucking hospital if you needed to. RELAX.
Jordan sent back a photograph of him flipping the bird.
Dred grinned at the camera and sent it back.
As Pixie had promised, the rest of the morning went by in a blur. Arwen was dressed, then cried so hard about her banana already being peeled that she threw up on her dress. Petal was a prima-donna about her outfits because she’d arranged to wear the same color as Jordan, then had a meltdown when Dred refused to let her bring the Christmas tree to Miami with them. Pixie was in knots about Lia’s dress, such that it was packed and repacked approximately thirty-seven times.