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“Finally,” Ivan said in a gravelly voice. “Can you take me again?”
Rory lifted his right leg and rested it on Ivan’s outer thigh, opening himself to whatever Ivan wanted. A possessive growl and a rigorous fuck met Rory’s offer.
And there was no better way to start the day.
Ivan crossed his right ankle over his left and leaned against the kitchen counter to observe Rory’s purposeful stride toward the ranch house. He sighed, actually fucking sighed. It wasn’t the annoyed kind he was used to either, though he might’ve been a little grumpy. Rory had seemed more eager to arrive on time for kitchen duties with Harry than to linger around kissing Ivan. The thought made him scowl, which Ivan only knew because he caught his expression in the shiny toaster next to the window. But the breathy sound escaping his lips sounded content, and when was the last time he’d felt that way?
Unfortunately for him, Ivan’s brain accepted the question as a challenge and started replaying all the things that had led up to the big sigh. Kissing Rory. Making Rory come. Seeing Rory bond with the crew over poker. The hottest, tightest ass he’d ever experienced. Rory feeding him cookies. Confessions in the dark. Cuddling. Morning wood he fed to Rory’s greedy body one throbbing inch at a time. Languid, indulgent strokes that lasted forever and not long enough. Kissing Rory awake again when he’d drifted to sleep in his arms. The joy on Rory’s face when he accepted the cup of coffee Ivan had made for him.
Yeah, okay. I fucking get it. Rory, Rory, Rory.
Ivan’s smiling reflection betrayed the joy he felt just thinking his name. He forced his gaze back out the window just as the object of his obsession—there was no better term—disappeared into the ranch house. Had he felt Ivan’s eyes on him the entire walk? Had he turned around to confirm while Ivan stared at his reflection in the toaster?
Enough already!The admonition bounced around Ivan’s skull loud enough to make him wince. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was on the cusp of serious trouble, but he reached for another cookie instead of coming up with a game plan to thwart said trouble. He closed his eyes and forced himself to chew slowly, savoring the burst of flavors on his tongue and the varied textures in his mouth. Food had never given him a hard-on before, but these cookies might have if not for the robust rounds of sex with—
Don’t say his name.Ivan rolled his eyes even though his lids were closed. His thought was just that ridiculous. Did he think saying Rory’s name would summon him like Beetlejuice?Rory! Rory! Rory!
Loud, energetic whistling followed his silent chant, and Ivan snapped his eyes open, expecting to see Rory headed back toward the homestead. Instead, it was Dylan who sauntered down the driveway. Ivan smiled at the swagger in Dylan’s step, but as happy as he was for his friend, Ivan had no intention of sharing the cookies Ro—he—had made for him. Ivan was no stranger to hiding his favorite foods from greedy hands. His younger brother, Innes, had the nose of a bloodhound and a stomach with a storage capacity similar to Mary Poppins’s carpetbag. He could sniff out a treat anywhere and was a bottomless pit that could hold an entire bag of Chips Ahoy. Ivan had learned early on that he had to trick Innes’s brain if he ever wanted to eat treats again. There was nothing his younger brother hated more than raisins, so Ivan had hidden his stashes inside an empty Raisin Bran box in the kitchen cabinet. Innes’s inner bloodhound knew a treat was nearby, but his brain wouldn’t allow him to touch the box of cereal, let alone open it up.
Ivan deployed the same tactic with Dylan, whose aversion to Cheerios provided a great hiding place. General Mills made boxes big enough to feed a battalion of kids, which suited Ivan just fine. He opened the flap and slid the storage container of cookies right inside the box and placed it back in the cabinet before Dylan reached the back door. Since he’d never shared his technique with anyone, Dylan was none the wiser. Ivan grabbed an empty coffee mug and filled it to the brim with rich, black coffee. He extended it to his friend when he entered the kitchen.
Dylan accepted the cup with a smile. “Nectar of the gods.” He saluted Ivan with the cup, then took a long drink, which gave Ivan ample time to study his friend. What he found made him snort. Dylan’s quirked brow made Ivan chuckle. His friend lowered the coffee cup and scowled at him, which pitched Ivan into a deep belly laugh. Dylan set his coffee cup on the counter and placed both hands on his hips. The gesture pulled his sweatshirt tighter, emphasizing the issue. “What’s wrong with you?” Dylan glanced down and noticed his shirt was inside out and on backward. “Damn it.”
“Add in the wildly mussed hair and the missing sock and it adds up to one hell of a night.”
Dylan whipped his sweatshirt off, but not before Ivan witnessed a faint blush and a wicked smile. He’d wiped his expression clean by the time he sorted his shirt. “You’re one to talk.”
Ivan looked down the front of his body, noting his clothes were on properly, he wore two matching socks, and his boots were on the right feet. “I don’t see a problem.”
“I wasn’t talking about your outfit,” Dylan said. He raised his hand and drew circles with his index finger near Ivan’s head. “I’m talking about your face.”
Ivan ran a hand over his beard and ignored the few cookie crumbs he shook loose. He’d tried the beard oil from Hope’s shop and was surprised how much he liked it. The bristles were soft but not greasy.
“I wasn’t talking about your chin bush,” Dylan said, “though it’s looking good. I’m talking about the goofy smile you’re wearing.”
Ivan snapped his gaze to the toaster and confirmed Dylan wasn’t wrong. He relaxed his face so his lips would return to home base, but the smile returned almost as quickly as it faded.Fuck me.The Rory Effect.
Dylan laughed, then took another swig of coffee. “Can’t wipe that fucker off your face. Ought to make breakfast interesting. Want me to turn my sweatshirt inside out again?”
Ivan forced himself to look away from his reflection. There were far worse things than smiling too much, and he figured he’d sober up when everyone was around. “Nah. I’m good.”
“Must be,” Dylan replied. “Rory practically floated into the kitchen to report for duty. Pretty sure his feet didn’t touch the ground.”
“Bullshit,” Ivan said, though the idea touched him deeply. “I watched him walk to the ranch house, and I assure you his feet were on the ground.” Ivan’s cheeks heated when he realized what he’d confessed.
Dylan drained the rest of his coffee, set the mug in the sink, and headed toward the archway. “I’ll stop busting your balls and go take a shower.”
Instead of heading to the ranch house early, Ivan hung back and waited for Dylan. He wanted to tell his friend how happy he was for him and maybe get some details on the timeline of their relationship. Ivan didn’t have to wait long since he and Rory had shared a selfishly long shower not long before Dylan returned. His friend glared at him when he reappeared in the kitchen. He bypassed the second cup of coffee Ivan offered in apology and removed the box of Cheerios from the cabinet. Ivan watched in stunned silence as Dylan pulled the storage container out of the box and helped himself to a cookie.
His friend let out an indecent moan when he bit into the treat, snapping Ivan out of his trance. Ivan snagged the container from Dylan before he could grab a second. “Hands off my cookies.”
Dylan rolled his eyes. “I didn’t touch the baker, just the baked goods.” His friend nearly choked on his next bite, and Ivan nearly applauded. Served him right. Dylan snagged the mug of coffee Ivan still held and took a drink. He cleared his throat a few times, then said, “Settle down. Don’t Hulk out on me. I’m madly in love with Harry, so you have nothing to worry about, not that it would matter since Rory only has eyes for you.”
Ivan figured he more closely resembled Shrek than the Hulk. And he ignored Dylan’s last remark to focus on the love declaration. “Madly, huh? Isn’t it a little soon?”
Dylan polished off the rest of the cookie and took another swig of coffee before attempting to speak again. “No,” he said calmly. “I’ve been in love with her since the day we met. It’s taken Harry longer to accept her feelings are more than lust.”
Ivan quirked a brow. Just how long had they been dating? “How much longer?”
