17. Rhett
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Rhett
I hear her whimper, sharp and needy, the sound rocketing straight through my chest. But the instant it echoes down the hall, another thought cuts in—if I can hear her, then Landon can too.
Shit.
I drag a hand over my face, forcing a calm I don’t feel, and turn back toward him. “How about we talk out there?” My voice is too casual, but it’s the best I’ve got.
He studies me for a beat, eyes flicking past my bare chest, and then he nods once. “Out there works.”
I step into the hallway with him, trying not to think about how ridiculous we must look. Me, shirtless and barefoot, still flushed from what was happening inside. Him, in a full suit and tie, pressed and polished, like he’s stepped out of a boardroom. It feels like two different worlds colliding.
He clears his throat, lifting a folder. “I got the papers back from the insurance claim. There’s something you forgot to sign.”
Relief floods me that it’s just paperwork. I take the pen he offers and sign where he points, the scratch of ink loud in the silence between us.
“Thanks,” he says, slipping the papers back into the folder with that lawyer efficiency.
“No problem.” I hand the pen back, trying not to imagine what’s going on behind the closed door. Ivy’s soft moans are still in my head, looping like a damn song I can’t turn off. I force myself to ask, “So. How you liking Miami so far?”
His mouth twists, thoughtful. “It’s… growing on me.”
I nod, slipping my hands into my pockets, pretending I’m not vibrating with impatience to get back inside. “Good. You should come over for dinner this weekend, maybe. Meet your neighbors properly. We’ll cook.”
His brows lift slightly, but then he nods once. “Sure. That’d be good.”
We shake on it, brisk and professional, before he turns and heads toward the elevator. I wait until I hear the soft ding and the doors close before exhaling. When I push the door back open, my pulse is still thudding in my ears.
The sight that greets me nearly knocks the breath out of my lungs.
Hunter’s already got Ivy on the couch, his fingers buried deep inside her, her head tipped back against the cushions. She’s gasping, eyes glassy, lips parted around another whimper.
For a second, all I can do is stare.
“Christ,” I mutter, slamming the door shut behind me. “We might have to make this door soundproof.”
She blinks up at me, dazed and wrecked, and the corner of her mouth curves weakly. “Where’s the food?” Her voice is hoarse, breaking on the question.
I laugh once, rough. “That wasn’t the food.”
“Oh, fuck,” she whispers, her whole body jerking as Hunter thrusts deeper, his jaw clenched, his attention locked on her.
The sight claws at my self-control. I reach for the button of my jeans, dragging it loose, my cock heavy and demanding against the denim. My hand wraps around it instinctively, stroking slow as I step toward her.
I grab her chin, tilt her head up, and crash my mouth onto hers. She tastes wild—heat and desperation and the faint salt of sweat. She moans into me, and I bite down on her lower lip, tugging until she gasps.
Hunter shifts behind her, his mouth on her neck now, his teeth grazing her skin before he pulls her bra down, freeing her breasts to the cool air. He palms one roughly, his thumb circling until she arches into his hand.
“I’m going to come,” she whimpers, voice breaking, thighs trembling around Hunter’s arm.
“Do it, baby,” I murmur against her mouth, my tongue sweeping inside as I watch Hunter’s fingers pump faster and deeper.
She splinters apart with a sharp cry, her body bowing, clenching tight around his hand. The sight alone rips through me, and I stroke myself harder, groaning into her kiss.
Hunter growls low in her ear, coaxing her through it, murmuring praise against her damp skin while his other hand keeps teasing her breasts.
I can’t stop touching her, can’t stop tasting her, dragging my teeth along her swollen lip while she gasps for air. Her skin is glowing, slick with sweat, her whole body trembling under the intensity of our focus.
We’re so caught up in her—lavishing attention on every inch of her, chasing her moans like addicts—that the sound of the door opening barely registers at first.
It’s only when cool air hits the back of my neck that I stiffen and turn.
Landon.
Standing in the doorway.
Holding two plastic bags that smell distinctly like Thai takeout.
“Oh, shit,” I breathe, jerking back a step.
Hunter reacts faster, diving for the throw blanket draped over the couch and yanking it across Ivy’s bare body. She’s panting, wide-eyed, hair a wreck around her face, but the blush that burns across her skin is immediate.
My jeans hang open, my cock still half out, and I yank them up, fumbling to zip while dragging a hand through my hair in frustration.
Landon’s face is unreadable, his jaw tight. His voice is even, though, which somehow makes it worse. “The food was delivered to my door instead of yours.”
He steps forward, sets the bags on the entryway table, and glances once—just once—toward the couch where Ivy is half-hidden under the throw.
Then his eyes flick to me. Then Hunter. And then back again.
“I knocked and the door was unlocked. Shit. I apologize for intruding,” he says flatly. “I’ll let you… get back to it.”
Before either of us can respond, he turns and leaves, the door clicking shut with finality.
For a beat, the room is silent except for Ivy’s ragged breathing and the hammer of my own pulse.
When I turn back, Hunter’s staring at me, his expression equal parts shock and something else—something raw and heated. Ivy’s wide eyes dart between us, panic and arousal still warring across her face.
“You didn’t lock the door?” Hunter finally asks, voice low.
I drag a hand down my face, groaning. “Fuck.”
And that’s all I can manage. Because the reality of what just happened—of who just saw us—is still settling in, heavy and dangerous and laced with a heat I can’t shake.
Chloe’s cry slices through the air like a blade, high and urgent, echoing down the hall before either of us can say another word.
I flinch. Hunter groans softly, dragging both hands through his hair, his body still tense from the near disaster with Landon. Ivy’s cheeks are scarlet, her chest rising and falling beneath the blanket.
But Chloe’s wail makes her scramble upright, panic etched across her face.
“I’ve got her,” I say quickly, pushing off the wall. My jeans are still half unbuttoned, but I don’t care.
I head for the bathroom, crank the faucet, and scrub my hands with soap and hot water until they sting. By the time I step into Chloe’s room, she’s standing in her crib, fists balled, tears streaking down her cheeks.
“Hey, Chloe,” I murmur, scooping her up and settling her against my chest. “I know. I know. Bad timing, huh?”
She hiccups around a sob, her tiny fingers grabbing my chain, and I sway with her until the cries taper into little whimpers.
I kiss the top of her soft hair, breathing her in, letting the steady rhythm of soothing her pull me back into focus.
Whatever storm just hit us, this is what matters—her, safe in my arms.
When I return to the living room, the scene has shifted. Ivy’s in a robe, cinched tight around her waist, damp hair pushed back from her flushed face. Hunter’s tugged on a pair of joggers and thrown his shirt over the back of the couch.
The throw blanket is folded neatly, like they’ve both tried to erase what just happened.
Ivy’s perched on the sofa with her knees tucked under her, chewing on her lip. Hunter is plating the food, the smell of basil and spice filling the air.
Both of them look up when I step in, Chloe pressed to my shoulder, calmer now, hiccupping softly.
The silence hangs heavy until Hunter says, “You okay, man?”
I let out a breath and nod. “Yeah. She just needed a cuddle.” I stroke Chloe’s back. “But about earlier…”
Ivy shakes her head quickly, words tumbling out in a rush. “I’m sorry. That was—reckless. And loud. And if he saw?—”
“He saw,” I cut in gently. “But listen. It’s not that big of a deal.”
Her eyes snap up to mine, wide and searching. She looks like she’s waiting for me to tell her she ruined everything.
I shift Chloe into the crook of my arm so I can crouch in front of her. “It’ll make it easier when we actually talk to him about Chloe’s paternity. You know that, right? The ice is already broken. If he can handle walking in on us half-naked, he can handle a conversation about legal paperwork.”
Hunter sets the last container on the coffee table and nods. “Exactly. He works with us, Ivy. He’s not blind. He has to know half the team is involved in harems. Ace. Leo. It’s not like this is new. And Landon? He’s sharp. If he didn’t already know, he probably suspected.”
Ivy’s face twists. She pulls her robe tighter, her voice quieter. “But this isn’t just about us. It’s Chloe. It’s complicated. What if he doesn’t get it?”
Hunter drops onto the sofa beside her, leaning close. “Then he doesn’t. But we’ve got each other, and we’ve got the team. No one’s going to blindside us. He’s not the enemy. And rumor is he’ll be gone before the season starts, so no harm no foul if he has an issue with our relationship.”
She exhales shakily, nodding, though the nerves still sit plain on her face.
Hunter hands me a plate, but before I take it, I notice Ivy staring down at her lap. Something’s shifted in her. Her brows knit, her lips press together, and when she looks up, there’s something raw in her eyes.
“Can I ask something?” she says softly.
“Anything,” I answer immediately.
She twists the edge of her robe tie around her fingers. “So is this… a relationship? Between us?” The question hangs there, heavy and sharp.
Hunter and I exchange a glance. Then he smirks, lifts a hand toward Chloe, and says, “Cover her ears, Rhett.”
I blink, then laugh under my breath, tugging Chloe’s baby headphones from the counter where we keep them. I slip them over her tiny head, and she blinks up at me, confused but quiet.
Hunter shifts closer to Ivy, voice dropping.
“Is this a relationship? Well, let’s think.
We sleep together. We eat together. We live together.
We fight sometimes, but then we make up.
We’re raising a kid under this roof. And every night, I get to put my head down knowing that if I reach for someone, it’ll be you.
” He gestures to her. “So yeah, I’d say this is a relationship. ”
Ivy’s face blooms with color. She looks down, then back up, her mouth opening like she’s trying to form the right words.
Hunter isn’t finished. He leans in, his tone playful but certain. “You’re not just the girl we fuck. You’re our girlfriend, Ivy.”
Her blush deepens, creeping all the way down her throat, and she hides her face in her hands for a second before lowering them. “I… guess so. So that makes you guys my boyfriends?”
I can’t help grinning. “Damn right it does.”
I lean over and kiss her. Ivy’s lips part in surprise, and then she melts into it, sighing against my mouth. When I pull back, her eyes are shining.
“I like the sound of that,” she whispers.
Hunter steals his own kiss a second later, his hand cupping her jaw as her body tilts toward him, the robe slipping dangerously low before he tugs it back up with a grin.
We settle into dinner after that, the tension bleeding out like steam from a kettle. Chloe falls back asleep before long, and Hunter returns her to her crib.
Storm shifts in his crate, sighs, and goes back to sleep, his paws twitching like he’s chasing something in a dream.
I spear a piece of chicken and glance at the screen where the recorded game plays on. “Watch how quickly they collapse the zone here,” I tell Ivy, pointing as the defense shifts.
Her gaze flicks between the screen and me, her cheeks still pink. “You look so hot out there,” she blurts, and then clamps a hand over her mouth.
Hunter chokes on his drink, laughing, while I raise an eyebrow at her. “Oh yeah? Hot?”
She groans, burying her face in her hands again. “I didn’t mean—okay, I did, but—shut up.”
We tease her until she swats at both of us, her laughter spilling into the room like light.
Before long, we’re all stretched out on the couch together, plates empty, the game playing low in the background. Hunter’s arm is around Ivy, her head tucked into his chest, and I’m on her other side, stroking her arm.
The earlier panic is gone. Replaced by something steady. Warm. Real.