Page 76 of Knocked Up By the Silver Foxes

“Your cards, sweetheart,” Maddox says from the screen. His eyes are on mine and there’s something in them that makes me wonder, briefly, if he can see it. If he already knows.

I lay my hand down.

He looks at it. Looks at his own. Looks at me.

He wins.

“Okay,” I say.

“Okay,” he agrees.

On the screen his expression does the thing it does when he’s stopped performing casual, and it’s the warmest and the most dangerous version of him, and Killian’s arm tightens slightly around me and Asher shifts closer and the card game has become something else entirely.

“Your turn, Harper,” Maddox says.

I’m down to just my bra and cotton shorts.

Dammit.

My fingers hesitate at the clasp of my bra. The air in Killian’s sitting room is thick with the scent of scotch and Bordeaux, the warmth of their bodies pressing in on either side of me making my skin hum. Maddox watches through the screen, his hazel eyes dark, lips parted just enough to show the edge of his teeth.

“Problem, sweetheart?”

I exhale, shaky. “No.”

The clasp gives. The straps slide down my arms. Killian’s breath hitches beside me, his grip tightening on my waist. Asher doesn’t even pretend to look at his cards anymore.

Maddox leans forward, elbows on his knees, gaze dragging over me like hands. “Good girl.”

The next hand is a blur. My pulse thrums in my throat, my thighs pressing together under the table. Maddox lays down his cards with a smirk.

“Shorts.”

I bite my lip, hook my thumbs into the waistband, and shimmy them down my hips. The cotton pools at my ankles. I kick them aside.

Completely naked now.

Maddox groans, low and rough. “Fuck. Killian, Asher—give us a minute.”

They don’t argue. Killian presses a kiss to my temple, Asher’s fingers lingering on my shoulder before they disappear into the hall. The door clicks shut behind them.

“Move the camera,” Maddox orders, voice thick. “I want to see all of you.”

I adjust the phone, angling it down my body as I lean back against the couch cushions. The leather is cool against my overheated skin.

“Touch yourself.”

My breath stutters. “Maddox⁠—”

“Now, Harper.”

I’ve never done this for anyone. Never let someone watch. My cheeks burn as my fingers trail down my stomach, skimming over my thighs.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, “are you blushing for me?”

“Yeah.” My voice cracks. “I’ve never done this before.”

A sharp inhale. His hand fists in his own lap, stroking himself through his jeans. “Fuck, you’re making me even harder.”