Page 55 of Better Daddy

Twisted at the waist, I glare at my arse. Or try to, at least.

“Daddy Sully.”

I spin at the sound of Sloane’s voice.

She drinks me in, slowly inspecting my bare chest and stomach, then lingering on my cock, which twitches under her gaze.

Once again, her eyes heat. “Daddy Sully.”

The breathless words go straight to my groin, and the tight cotton does nothing to hide the reaction.

She smirks, clearly enjoying this interaction as much as I am.

“Did you get the hat?” another voice calls.Lo.

Sloane startles, her eyes darting away. “Yeah. One sec.” She steps in and swipes the green hat off the bed. And with one more look of longing, she steps away.

Bloody hell. I want to chase her. I want to toss her over my shoulder and bring her straight back to bed. The fierce need to run my tongue along every inch of her skin steals my breath. The temptation to pin her down and fuck her so good she’s screaming my name overwhelms me.

I’m halfway to the door before good sense reins me in again. Yes, I desperately want my wife’s body, but I want her heart more. And I don’t have it. Not yet.

Tonight, my focus needs to remain on making this Christmas everything Sloane and T.J. deserve.

With two deep breaths to get my cock calmed the fuck down, I toss the ugly green shirt over my head.

My excitement distracts me as I head back to the lounge, and I forget to duck in the doorway, instead slamming into the frame.

“Dammit.” I press a hand to the aching spot.

The cat appears, thinking I’ve summoned him, and a giant paw bats at my trousers.

“No,” I warn, darting out of the way. His nails are enormous; there’s no way the cheap material of my pajamas would stand up against them.

“Fuzzy.” Cal shakes the bag of treats he stashed in the gift bag.

The beast turns and darts toward him, his body nothing but a gray blur.

Cal tucks the treat bag behind his back and says, “Sit.”

I huff. Why Cal still thinks he can train the cat is beyond me. The damn thing doesn’t listen to a word he says. Hell, he barely follows any of Brian’s commands.

Unsurprisingly, the cat bats at my brother.

“No, Fuzzy. Sit,” Cal commands.

But the cat has no patience for his nonsense. He simply stalks around him and swipes at the bag dangling in front of Cal’s ass. As he does, his claw catches on the cheap material of the elf suit.

Then he’s yowling and Cal is yelping, and when Fuzzy yanks his paw back, he takes the flap down with him.

“Oh my god,” Lo cries as Cal’s bare arse comes into view.

Both boys fall into hysterical laughter, holding their bellies.

Quickly, I avert my eyes. “Why aren’t you wearing underwear?”

“Jesus,” Brian snaps. “No one wants to see your hairy ass.”

“I do not have a hairy arse.” Cal reaches for the flap that’s now dangling behind him. “Tell them, Lo!” He spins the other way, still grasping for the material.