13. Rhett
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Rhett
We finish clearing out the guest room just after nine.
The crib is set up beneath the window, close enough that the soft night breeze filters in but not so close she’ll catch a chill.
Ivy lines the drawer with folded onesies we picked up earlier. Hunter tucks the extra diapers into a woven basket beside the changing table.
It smells faintly of lavender baby lotion and fresh paint. The pale green walls are leftover from when the place was staged, but somehow they work. Warm. Soft. Safe.
“She’s just down the hall,” Ivy says, stepping back to look at the room from the doorway. “If she cries, you’ll hear her on the monitor.”
I nod. “Good. I want to hear her.”
Hunter huffs a quiet laugh. “We’ll be hearing her a lot.”
“I’m not complaining.”
We stand there, shoulder to shoulder, staring at the sleeping baby we barely know but already can’t seem to leave.
Chloe’s in the pack-and-play for now, her lashes dark against her cheeks, one fist curled near her face. Her little stuffed elephant lies beside her, half tucked into the blanket.
Ivy’s voice is quiet, like she doesn’t want to wake her. “I know this wasn’t the plan.”
“There wasn’t a plan,” I murmur.
She half-smiles. “Still.”
She crosses her arms. She’s in one of Hunter’s oversized shirts again, and her bare legs stretch out from beneath the hem, gold-tinted in the soft hallway light.
I should be tired. We’ve been running on fumes since Chloe showed up. But I’m not.
She clears her throat. “Have you thought about getting a nanny?”
Hunter and I glance at each other.
“I know someone who can help you find a reputable agency,” Ivy continues, like she’s been mulling this over all day. “A few interviews, background checks, proper vetting.”
“You think we should hand her off to a stranger?” Hunter’s brows pull in.
“No,” she says gently. “I think you should figure out how much help you’re going to need before you burn out.”
That gets me. I run a hand through my hair. “Yeah. Probably.”
Then she steps forward, hesitates, and says, “Or I could help.”
We both blink.
“I mean temporarily,” she says quickly. “Not forever. Just a few weeks. Until you get a rhythm or know what kind of support you want.”
Hunter lifts a brow. “You’d be her nanny?”
“Look, I already know how to do most of this. I was there when Brooke had Sage and Skye. I’ve changed diapers. I’ve helped with teething. I’ve dealt with baby puke in my bra. I’m practically certified.”
That makes me snort.
She continues, undeterred. “And I’m here anyway, aren’t I? It just… makes sense. I don’t want you two panicking every time Chloe fusses. Let me help.”
“You sure?” I ask. “It’s a lot.”
“I’m not saying I’ll quit everything and become a full-time caregiver,” she says, holding up her hands. “Just a few days. Nights, if I’m around. I can even sleep in here on the baby monitor nights if I need to.”
Hunter’s quiet for a long beat. “Okay,” he finally says. “We’d owe you.”
Ivy gives him a tired look. “You already do.”
I chuckle, then gesture to the hallway. “Let’s get her settled.”
Once Chloe is asleep and the monitor is positioned, we all tiptoe out. Ivy closes the door softly behind her, then turns to me.
“Have you two talked about paternity yet?”
Hunter sighs. “Not exactly a priority when you’re figuring out how to burp a nine-month-old.”
“It’s important,” she says gently. “You need to know who she belongs to. Or at least try to.”
I nod. “We’ve been talking about it. But I don’t know where to even start.”
“That’s why you should ask Landon.”
Hunter freezes.
I rub the back of my neck. “Our lawyer?”
“Yes. He knows this stuff. And the sooner you bring him in, the sooner you’ll have answers.”
“I don’t know if we can trust him.”
Ivy lets out a quiet breath. “It’s not about trust. It’s about facts. He’s the team’s legal rep. And let’s be real—he already saw me with you, and me with the baby. It’s only a matter of time before he says something.”
Hunter frowns. “From what you’ve described, I’m not sure he’s one to keep a secret.”
“That’s just his face,” Ivy says dryly. “I doubt he smiles unless there’s a merger involved.”
I laugh. “That sounds about right.”
We head toward the kitchen. Chloe’s bottles are washed and drying on the rack.
Ivy opens the fridge and pulls out one of those soft fruit melt packs she swore were perfect for bedtime feeding. We warm it gently in a mug of hot water, then carry it back to the nursery.
She’s still asleep when we enter, but the moment Ivy lifts her, Chloe stirs, blinking up at us with bleary brown eyes.
“Hi, sweet girl,” Ivy coos. “Hungry?”
Hunter stands beside her as Ivy feeds Chloe. She eats quietly, messy at first but then calmer. Afterwards, she nestles into Ivy’s chest, thumb in her mouth, eyelashes fluttering shut again.
I don’t realize how hard I’m holding my breath until Ivy nods toward the baby monitor.
“Let’s go,” she whispers.
We walk her to my room.
It’s warm in here. I left the windows cracked earlier, and the scent of citrus from Ivy’s shampoo still lingers faintly. She pads into the bathroom, switching on the shower. The sound of water is instant, muffled behind the thick glass.
I start to unbutton my shirt, but I pause when I see her pulling out hair ties and brushing her curls, all under the light of the vanity.
“I’ll do that,” I murmur.
She glances at me in the mirror. “Do what?”
“Wash your hair.”
She grins. “Seriously? You know when I mentioned that I needed to wash it while we were in the store, I wasn’t hinting at it or anything.”
“I know… and seriously. Please.”
A minute later, we’re both in the shower, and I’m working the shampoo into her scalp with slow, careful fingers. Ivy’s head is tilted back slightly, her eyes closed, water streaming in rivulets down her spine. Her breath comes in steady, quiet waves.
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.
“Sensitive?” I whisper.
“Yes,” she breathes.
“Good.”
Hunter’s hands are already sliding down her sides. His fingers graze over her thighs, then spread her open slightly so he can see her better. She’s dripping—water and want—and we haven’t even truly started.
“You’re so wet for us,” he murmurs, his voice rough around the edges.
“Always,” she says, almost defiantly.
I slide a hand between her legs, fingers gliding through her folds. She jerks slightly, hips rolling back into me.
“Fuck,” I mutter. “She’s so ready.”
Hunter kneels in front of her, the water cascading over his shoulders. He lifts one of her legs over his shoulder and steadies her with a hand on her waist. Ivy’s fingers tighten in my hair as he lowers his mouth to her.
“Oh my god,” she gasps, her head falling back against my shoulder.
I hold her steady, palm flat on her stomach, the other cupping her breast again. Tremors build in her thighs. Her breath is shaky, her knees weak.
Hunter’s eating her out like he’s starving. No hesitation. No patience. Just deep, slow licks, then fast ones when she starts to pant.
He groans into her like he loves the taste of her, like it’s more satisfying than anything he’s ever known.
She starts to fall forward, but I catch her.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper, holding her tighter.
Her legs are shaking now, the tension in her body winding tight. Then?—
“Rhett—Hunter—I’m gonna?—”
Her body locks up.
I kiss her temple. “Let go, baby. We’ve got you.”
She shatters.
It starts with a gasp, then a moan that turns into a high, desperate cry. Her whole body jerks once, then again, as the orgasm rolls through her like a wave she couldn’t stop if she tried. I hold her through it, grounding her, while Hunter eases her down gently.
When she finally sags against me, boneless, I kiss the top of her head.
Hunter stands, lips glistening, eyes dark with lust. “I need to fuck her.”
“So do I,” I say, my voice rough now. “Bed?”
She just nods.
We towel off fast, drying her first. Hunter kisses her shoulder, and I carry her to the bedroom like she weighs nothing. Her legs wrap around my waist, her arms around my neck. She kisses me lazily as we move, like she’s still drunk on the release.
The sheets are cool when I lower her onto them. She lies back, hair wet, eyes hazy, lips parted.
Hunter grabs the lube and a condom from the drawer. I follow her onto the bed, kissing her collarbone, her chest, her stomach.
“I need to be inside you,” I tell her.
“I know,” she whispers. “Please.”
I grab a condom, put it on, and slide into her slow.
Her body welcomes me like it knows me, like it’s missed me, though it’s been a few days since I was inside her. She arches up, wraps her legs around my hips.
We move together—long strokes, deep and unhurried. Her eyes lock onto mine, and something unspoken passes between us.
This isn’t just sex. It’s something steadier. Something real.
Hunter kneels beside us, his hand sliding over her ribs, up to her throat. “You’re so beautiful like this.”
She smiles up at him, breathless. “Touch me.”
He does. Fingers between her thighs, right above where I’m moving inside her. Her back arches again. She’s moaning now, louder, each breath a gasp. I feel her tighten around me.
“Come again,” I whisper. “Come while I’m inside you.”
Hunter rubs faster, and she falls apart again—this time with a cry that turns into my name.
I’m not far behind.
I thrust deep, one last time, and bury myself inside her. My vision goes white. I come with a groan, my face buried in her neck. She holds me there, arms tight around me.
When I finally roll to the side, Hunter slides in behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist. She’s warm between us. Soft. Still catching her breath.
He kisses her jaw. “You good?”
She nods, smiling. “I could definitely get used to this.”
I don’t say anything back because I already have.
And I’m never letting her go.