Page 94 of Double Daddies (Dirty Daddies Anthologies #8)

Chapter Nine

Wren

I wake to the aroma of something delicious cooking—garlic, herbs, and a hint of roasted vegetables.

The living room is empty, but faint voices drift from the kitchen.

Stretching lazily, I pad across the cool wooden floor, the faint creak of the boards underfoot blending with the soft clatter of pans.

The twins move around each other in perfect synchrony, like a well-rehearsed dance.

Elijah’s knife glides effortlessly through vegetables, while Ezra stirs the pasta with practiced ease.

The steam curls upward, catching the light and framing their focused faces.

Elijah’s tattoos peek out from his rolled-up sleeves, the inked lines shifting as his muscles flex.

Ezra adjusts the burner with precision, his movements calm and deliberate.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Elijah teases, his voice warm as he sets a bowl of salad on the table. Ezra glances over his shoulder, his smile soft and inviting. They’re both sexy as hell in suits, but seeing them like this—domesticated, relaxed—is ten times hotter.

“We were just about to wake you up. Dinner’s ready,” Ezra says, turning off the burner and draining the pasta. The sound of the water rushing into the sink fills the room.

“You guys didn’t have to do all this. I could’ve tried to make something,” I utter, my voice tinged with gratitude.

Elijah shakes his head, his expression gentle. “We wanted to do this for you, merlotta . You’ve been through enough, our little songbird.”

Ezra plates the food with care, his movements deliberate yet graceful. “It’s the least we could do.”

“It looks and smells amazing,” I say, my stomach growling audibly. My cheeks flush with embarrassment, but the twins just laugh, their laughter light and genuine.

Ezra places the dishes on the table, the clink of ceramic against wood grounding the moment.

Elijah pulls out a chair for me before taking a seat himself, and Ezra follows suit, settling into the chair opposite me.

The warm glow from the kitchen light casts a cozy ambiance over us, the soft hum of the evening creating a quiet intimacy.

The first bite is perfection—rich, savory, comforting. The flavors blend beautifully, and I let out a small sigh of appreciation. Elijah smirks as he watches me. "That good, huh?"

I nod, unable to resist another bite. "You guys outdid yourselves."

Ezra twirls his fork through his pasta, his expression pleased. "Glad you like it. Cooking's a nice change from the chaos we usually deal with."

Elijah chuckles, taking a sip of his wine. "Yeah, but if you ever tell anyone we’re capable of domestic life, we’ll deny it."

I laugh, shaking my head. "Your secret’s safe with me."

The meal continues with easy conversation and quiet moments of appreciation, the warmth of their presence filling the space in a way that soothes something deep inside me.

Elijah leans back in his chair, watching me with a satisfied smirk. “You’re making it too easy to impress you, merlotta .”

I roll my eyes, but the blush creeping up my cheeks betrays me. “Don’t get too cocky. I’m just hungry.”

Ezra chuckles softly, his voice low and soothing. “You can admit it—we’re good at this.”

The conversation flows effortlessly, punctuated by laughter and teasing.

Elijah recounts a story about a disastrous attempt at cooking in their younger days, complete with exaggerated gestures that make Ezra groan and shake his head.

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?

” Ezra mutters, though there’s a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Not a chance,” Elijah replies, raising his glass in a mock toast. “To progress. We’ve come a long way from burnt toast and undercooked eggs.”

I laugh, the sound light and genuine, and raise my own glass. “To progress,” I echo, feeling a warmth that has nothing to do with the food or the wine.

As the meal winds down, Elijah clears the plates while Ezra pours another round of wine.

The atmosphere shifts slightly, the playful banter giving way to a quieter, more intimate energy.

Elijah returns with a small plate of dessert—something chocolatey and decadent—that he sets in the center of the table.

“We figured you could use a little extra sweetness tonight,” he says, his tone softer now.

I smile, touched by the gesture, but a wave of self-consciousness washes over me.

My ex-boyfriend's cruel words echo in my mind, reminding me of the times he would squeeze my hips and call me fat, as if that was all I was. “You two really didn’t have to go all out like this,” I reply, trying to keep my voice light, but my heart sinks at the thought of indulging.

Ezra meets my gaze, his expression earnest. “We wanted to. You deserve it.” He gestures toward the dessert, but I hesitate, glancing down at the rich chocolate cake.

Elijah leans forward, a playful grin on his face. “Come on, Wren. It’s just dessert! You can’t tell me you’re not at least a little excited.”

I hesitate, glancing at the rich chocolate cake.

I want to indulge, but the thought of overindulging makes me anxious.

“It looks amazing, but… I shouldn’t eat more,” I say, my voice wavering.

“I mean, I’ve been trying to be careful about my weight.

” The words slip out before I can stop them, and I immediately regret it.

“What? You don’t like chocolate?” Elijah teases, trying to coax me into enjoying the moment.

“No, it’s not that,” I murmur, feeling my cheeks flush. “I just… I don’t want to eat too much.” The thought of their potential judgment looms in my mind, even though I know they wouldn’t be cruel.

Ezra’s brow furrows slightly in confusion. “Why not? You’re not going to ruin anything by enjoying a little dessert. We want you to have fun.”

Elijah’s playful demeanor shifts as he leans closer, his expression serious. “Wren, you’re perfect just the way you are. Seriously, don’t let anything hold you back from enjoying this.”

I bite my lip, feeling the weight of my insecurities pressing down on me. “I just… I don’t want to overdo it. I’ve been told I’m… well, too much,” I stammer, my heart racing.

The moment hangs in the air, and I can see the shift in their expressions. Ezra’s eyes darken with concern, and Elijah’s jaw tightens. “What do you mean, ‘too much’?” Elijah asks, his voice low and intense.

I look down, ashamed. “It’s just… I don’t want to be that person who eats everything and then regrets it. I’ve had enough people tell me what I should look like.”

Ezra’s expression hardens, and he shakes his head. “Wren, you need to stop thinking that way about yourself. It’s not true. You’re beautiful and deserving of every good thing, including this dessert.”

Elijah picks up a fork and, without waiting for my response, takes a piece of the dessert and holds it out to me. “Open up,” he commands playfully, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

I hesitate, my heart racing. “I don’t know…”

“You’re not just your weight, Wren. You’re so much more than that. And it makes me upset to hear you talk about yourself like this,” Elijah insists, his playful smirk gone.

I feel a rush of emotions at their words—surprise, gratitude, and a flicker of hope. “I didn’t mean to… I just?—”

“Enough,” Elijah interrupts gently, but with conviction. “You’re going to eat some and then you’re going to find out what happens to bad girls that think badly of themselves.”

I blink in surprise, the playful glint in his eyes mixed with a seriousness that sends a shiver down my spine. “What do you mean?” I ask, curiosity piqued despite my apprehension.

He leans closer, a smirk creeping onto his lips. “You’ll see. But first, you need to enjoy this dessert.”

With a deep breath, I relent, opening my mouth as Elijah brings the fork to my lips. The rich chocolate melts on my tongue, and I can’t help but moan softly at the taste.

“See? Isn’t that better?” Elijah grins, clearly pleased with himself.

Ezra leans closer, his voice low and teasing. “Now, let’s see you finish it. We won’t let you off the hook that easily.”

As they continue to feed me the dessert, I feel a warmth spreading through me—not just from the sweet treat, but from their encouragement.

In this moment, surrounded by their laughter and light-heartedness, I start to wonder if I might be able to let go of my worries, even if just for a little while.

For a moment, the three of us sit in comfortable silence, the weight of the day melting away in the warmth of their presence.

The dessert is rich and indulgent, and I can’t help but let out a small hum of appreciation.

Elijah grins, leaning forward slightly. “So, does this officially make us the best cooks you know?”

I laugh, shaking my head. “You’re definitely in the top three.”

“Top three?” Ezra raises an eyebrow, feigning offense. “We’ll have to try harder next time.”

The night stretches on as the wine glasses empty and the candles burn low. By the time we finally leave the table, my heart feels lighter, the weight of the world held at bay by their quiet care and unwavering presence.

Elijah takes my hand, his grip firm yet gentle, and leads me toward the couch. He nudges me down, his touch light but insistent. The cushions welcome me as I sink into them, the lingering scent of dinner still in the air.

“We need you, little bird. Please tell me you want us,” he pleads.

My heart races in my chest as I stare into his eyes, the hunger in his gaze mirroring the desire that burns within me. “I-I do,” I whisper, my voice trembling with anticipation. “I want both of you.”

“Then you’ll have us, uccellina .” He leans in, capturing my mouth with his in a searing kiss.

His lips are soft yet demanding, and I can feel the fire igniting within me as he deepens the kiss, his tongue sweeping across my lower lip.

I open for him, welcoming him in, and he explores my mouth with a fervor that steals my breath.