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“It’s kind of like we’re on a secret mission,” Mackenzie said. “Oh! We can call it ‘Operation: Cuddledom’ or something. Get it? Cuddle? Dom? Cuddledom.”

Theo snorted. “You might have to bring your branding team in on that name.”

JUSTICE TWILL

Daisy:

We need to talk.

It was the third “we need to talk” message she had sent today. I’d been doing an excellent job of avoiding her. I wasn’t really sure why. Maybe I just didn’t want to stand in her firing line and get called on my bullshit. I slipped the phone into my back pocket and stepped into our apartment.

I immediately smiled.

The place was a wreck. Paint swatches decorated the walls like abstract art, and boxes were stacked up by the door. Most were returns. I’d been one-click-buying and asking questions later. Working with an interior designer and balancing four people’s tastes was more involved than I’d thought. But the chaos meant something now. People lived here. It was home.

Music poured from the kitchen, but it was the laughter that drew me there.

Theo stood at the island, flour dusting his forearms as he tossed a disc of dough into the air. Mackenzie danced around him, a wooden spoon in one hand, belting out the chorus to some pop song I didn’t recognize. Ren leaned against the counter, a beer in hand, watching them with that same dumbass grin I was probably sporting.

For a moment, I just stood there, letting the scene wash over me. Two months ago, I’d come home to empty rooms and silence.

“Justice!” Mackenzie spotted me and practically squealed. She abandoned her spoon and threw herself at me, filling my mouth with her tongue. She tasted sweet. Her hands went around my waist and under my t-shirt, her warmth against me stealing my breath and making me instantly hard.

I staggered and let the wall catch us. She drank me in, her tongue desperate and hungry against mine.

“Do we need to clear the counter off for you two?” Ren drawled.

Mackenzie giggled and broke our kiss. “We’re making pizza. Homemade!” She pulled me to the counter and wrapped me around her like a blanket. I closed my eyes for a second. She felt so damn good in my arms.

“Right on time,” she said with a smile. “How do you always manage that?”

“Years of practice.” I pressed my lips to her temple, letting her citrus scent fight to overpower the garlic and bread.

“I’m teaching them how to make dough,” Theo announced, gesturing to the array of toppings scattered across the counter.

“He’s been insufferable,” Ren added, crossing the room to place a cold beer in my hand. His fingers lingered on mine. “Apparently, the way we’ve been eating pizza wrong our entire lives.”

“Not wrong,” Theo corrected, “just inferior.”

I took a long pull from the beer.

“So what do you want?” she asked.

“You. Always you,” I said, and then realized I’d slurred the question into her ear like I was drunk on her.

“No, silly. On your pizza,” she laughed.

“Right. Food.” I took a breath to clear my head and straightened to get on with the serious business of choosing toppings. I stepped back, reluctantly dropping my arms from her, but she snatched me right back.

“We’ll do it together.” She patted my hand that was resting on her tummy. “I want veggies. You?”

“I’m a simple guy. Just pepperoni.” I traced my fingertips up her sides as she reached across the table for toppings.

“This ban on mushrooms is frankly silly,” she said, popping a slice of pepperoni in my mouth, over her shoulder before dealing them out onto the dough.

“What’s silly about it? You don’t like them.” I whispered into her ear. She bent her neck, offering it to me. The bite mark there stood out, practically glowed. Even thinking about my mark on her skin got me hard. As if I wasn’t already.

“Justice!” Mackenzie nudged me. “Theo says you have to choose a side. Anchovies. Yes or no?”