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Our breathless panting filled the otherwise silent room, until something thudded against the outside of our bedroom door.
I giggled, whereas Gage ran a hand down his face and grumbled, “I swear to God if that was a bottle of mouthwash…”
“Oh, Trav’s drunk, by the way.”
He snorted. “Nothing new there. But seriously, how the fuck does he still have bottles of mouthwash?”
I shrugged. “Maybe he restocked.”
“Christ help us all,” Gage deadpanned, easing out and cupping his dick.
I followed him to the en suite bathroom where we cleaned up, then went in search of my discarded underwear.
Once we were both redressed and Gage had assured me there were no cum stains on my dress, I paused with my hand on the bedroom door handle.
“Shirt, Gage.”
“What shirt?”
My smile widened into a shit-eating grin. “The Christmas shirt you agreed on wearing before we had sex.”
He eyed me through a narrowed glare and snatched up the offending tee. “Damn you and your sorcerous ways.” The grumbling continued while he shoved his arms through the holes and wriggled until his head popped out. “This is the fuckingworst!”
I snickered and smoothed my hands over his chest. “It’s cute. C’mon, let’s go.”
Gage gave my ass a hard squeeze as I opened the door, then cursed when he spotted the bottle of mouthwash Trav—presumably—had tossed there.
I snatched it from the floor so El wouldn’t drink it, and tracked down the hallway with Gage’s mutterings following me into the lounge.
“Yaaay, Mum and Dad are back,” Trav cheered to Elodie, catching the mouthwash bottle I tossed his way.
A little crease appeared between El’s light brows. “Where did they go?”
Trav snorted. “To funky town.”
Our daughter, bless her, turned to Gage, and put on her best Daddy’s Girl eyes. “Can I go to funky town?”
I failed to suppress a burst of laughter. Gage, however, paled ten shades before recolouring red.
“No,” he snapped. “Not until you’re over thirty and married.”
She pouted as she thought, then turned her round hazel eyes on Trav. “Have you been to funky town?”
His laughter increased. “I have.”
“Is it fun?” El asked.
“Best town known to man,” he crowed, earning a subtle kick from Lee.
Desperate to reroute the conversation, Gage made a scene by rushing to the window. “Oh look, Neek and Brooklyn are here!”
Our daughter’s focus immediately shifted, and she rushed for the front door.
“ThankChristfor that,” Gage hissed. “I swear to god, Travis, if you mention funky town again, I’m going to maim you. And why thefuckare we wearing matching shirts?”
Ainsley and I burst into fits of laughter as the guys studied each other, then cracked up again when Neek appeared—also wearing the same t-shirt: red with gold tinsel stitched to each nipple area, with the caption ‘Merry Christmas Tinsel Tits’ written in script across the chest.
CHAPTER9
