Page 31 of Cross Check Daddies (Miami Icemen #3)

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Brooke

“I should go,” I whisper, pulling my shirt down, trying to get my breath back, and not completely fall apart all over again.

Ace’s hand slides over mine, catching it. “Wait.”

His voice is raw, pleading, quiet in the way that pins me in place.

“Just wait a minute.”

Before I can ask why, he drops to his knees in front of me. His hands rise to my thighs, and his mouth presses against my inner knee like a silent apology. I look down, stunned, my breath caught in my throat.

“I don’t want you to give up on me,” he murmurs.

I don’t have time to protest. His mouth is already on me with slow, unhurried strokes. Careful and reverent. I gasp, fingers tangling in his hair.

My body responds faster than I want it to, hips lifting into his mouth, heart thudding against my ribs. He holds my thighs apart, thumbs grazing my skin, his mouth working like he has nowhere else to be tonight.

And for a moment, I forget about everything else. The fear. The tests. The others. All of it. Just this.

As we come back to reality, he doesn’t say anything. Just kisses the inside of my thigh and stands slowly, pulling me into his chest. He kisses my jaw and pulls away, returning with a warm towel and a glass of water. He moves gently, wiping me clean, and I watch him, not knowing what to say.

Eventually, I get ready to leave.

“I’ll walk you down,” he says, slipping on his sneakers without waiting for me to protest.

We take the stairs, a few inches of space between us the whole time. When we reach my door, he turns to face me.

His hand cups my cheek, but he doesn’t kiss me again, not on the mouth. Just leans in and brushes his lips to my forehead.

“I’ll see you soon.”

I nod, swallowing hard.

Inside, the apartment is warm and smells faintly of garlic and cheese. Jackson is curled up on the couch beside Ivy, half-asleep, a slice of pizza in his lap, and Buddy snoring beneath his feet. Ivy glances up and arches a brow.

“Cutting it close. It’s almost ten.”

Jackson mumbles, “Five more minutes,” and snuggles closer to her side.

“I got it,” she says, so I head straight for the bathroom.

I flick on the light and close the door behind me. Steam curls as I twist the faucet and step out of my clothes. My hand rests on my belly for a moment as I wait for the water to warm. The doctor said it’s still early, but the baby’s the size of a raspberry now.

The image flashes through my mind again—the printout of the little black-and-white blob. The faint flicker that the tech called “a nice strong rhythm.” My nipples ache, sensitive in a way that’s new, even the water stings a little. I close my eyes, tilting my head under the stream.

I can still feel him. His mouth. His voice. The way he said please like it meant everything.

I wash slowly, gently. Let the heat soothe my muscles and my mind. By the time I towel off and slip into fresh pajamas, the house is dim, the TV turned off, Jackson already half-asleep in his bed.

I press a kiss to his forehead, brush his curls back, and tuck the covers around his shoulders. His breathing slows beneath my hand.

Out in the hallway, Ivy is curled on the couch again, texting with one hand, a glass of wine in the other. She glances up when she hears me.

“You good?”

“I think so,” I say. “I just need to breathe a little.”

I’m not sure when the dream starts. It slips in like silk against skin—sudden, warm, and too vivid to be confused for anything else.

It begins with hands. Not one pair. Three.

Cam’s are rough, familiar, fingers mapping the lines of my spine like he already knows every one.

Tanner’s are greedy, always moving, always teasing.

He lifts my thigh, bites my shoulder, groans my name like he’s starving.

Ace is slower, more focused. His lips trail fire down my throat, while his voice in my ear makes my legs weak.

There’s no space between their touches. No shame either. Just need. Raw, pulsing, aching need.

Cam pushes inside me from behind, his body solid against mine. My mouth opens, and Tanner’s there, kissing me deep, his tongue sliding against mine while his hand moves between my legs. I’m drowning in sensation.

I come undone once, twice, too fast to count. Ace steadies my waist, then sinks to his knees, mouth replacing Tanner’s fingers, licking me open while Cam keeps moving, groaning into my neck.

They move in a rhythm I was born to follow. They talk to me like they’ve all claimed something. Tanner says I’m his girl. Cam calls me baby. Ace whispers mine with a bite to my breast, and I believe every one of them.

I wake up gasping, soaked in sweat and slick between my thighs.

My sheets are twisted around my legs, and my T-shirt’s ridden up to my ribs.

I press a hand over my belly, not just because I need to breathe, but because I need to feel something solid beneath all this chaos.

My nipples throb, overly sensitive, and I swear I can still feel the scrape of Ace’s teeth in a place his mouth never actually touched.

I stare at the ceiling, heart wild, brain scrambled.

I can’t lie to myself anymore. I’m falling in love with all three of them, and it’s not a maybe.

It’s a reality I can taste, something heavy but not unwelcome in my chest. Each one of them gives me something different—heat, safety, laughter, softness.

I crave them like water, like air. And I don’t know how the hell I’m supposed to choose. Or if I even can .

I climb out of bed carefully, stretching my back, pulling on a hoodie over my oversized shirt. Ivy and Jackson are still asleep. Buddy lifts his head when I pass him, curled up at the foot of the couch, but doesn’t bother moving.

I make a cup of tea and settle on the floor with my laptop. The GameHatch title screen flickers to life. We changed the name last week after that late-night branding meeting. ICEMEN: FROSTBITE now flashes in bold silver script over a sharp glacier background.

It tested well in every mock review, and it makes me grin like a maniac knowing we built this from scratch.

I scroll through a few last-minute UI adjustments, tighten some of the voice line triggers, and note a few minor bugs still needing cleanup.

My phone buzzes beside me.

Tanner You up?

I smile, heart tugging in that way it does when I see his name.

Me Barely. Why are you up?

Tanner Couldn’t sleep. It’s almost 6. Just wanted to check on you.

Tanner Can I FaceTime?

I pause for a second. Glance at the disaster that is my reflection in the black screen of my laptop. Then shrug.

I hit call.

His face appears instantly, bed hair and all, shirtless with sleepy eyes that still manage to light up when he sees me.

“Fuck, you’re pretty,” he says, voice low and raspy. “Even all rumpled like that.”

I roll my eyes, but my smile gives me away. “You always start your mornings with this much charm?”

“Nah. Just when I miss someone.”

My stomach flutters. “You miss me?”

“Every second,” he says. “But especially the ones I’m not inside you.”

My laugh comes out sharper than I intend, half-scandalized, half-flattered. “Tanner.”

“Sorry,” he says, not sounding sorry at all. “It’s early. I’m uncensored.”

“You’re always uncensored.”

He grins, then adjusts the camera so I can see more of him—bare chest, the edge of his tattoo, the line of his hip where the sheet’s barely hanging on. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

“I have an idea,” he says.

“Oh?”

“One of my buddies owes me a favor. Has a boat docked near Biscayne. I could grab it. We could catch the sunrise. Just you and me on the water.”

I bite my lip, warmth pooling in places I shouldn’t be thinking about right now. “That sounds…”

“Dangerous?” he teases. “Romantic?”

“Perfect.”

He leans closer to the screen. “So, say yes.”

I breathe out slowly. “Yes.”

“Be ready in thirty.”

Then he’s gone, the call ended, and I’m left staring at my own reflection in the screen again.

Still wrecked from the dream. Still aching in ways I don’t want to admit.

But smiling.

And suddenly, I don’t feel so lost.