Tate and Gigi look like they could be sisters. The genes are strong in this family even when passed down along different familial lines. Gigi’s grandfather and Tate’s grandfather are brothers, and it shows. But it’s their husbands who have caught my attention even more. They’re both brooding men, covered in tattoos and facial hair that would make most every woman drool with a single glance. It’s like they ordered them out of a catalogue of pure male, inked perfection.
And as my gaze swings to Brax, I realize he’d be on a page in that same catalogue. Dark hair, dark eyes, covered in tattoos, the right amount of facial hair to deliciously prickle my skin if he nestled between my legs.
“Babe,” Tate says, elbowing me. “You okay?”
I blink a few times, clearing my thoughts. “Yeah. Why?”
“I was talking to you, and you zoned out. It’s like you went somewhere else.”
I don’t want to tell her that I was thinking about how hot her man is, because hot damn…he is.
“I’m in an eggplant coma.”
She gives me a big smile. “Been there. Done that. Sometimes I take a trip there, but I try not to overeat. All the cheese goes right to my hips.”
Wylder slides his arm around his wife’s chair, leaning into her space until his mouth is next to her ear. “I love those hips. They were made for me.”
Tate’s face pinkens as she turns her face toward him until their lips are almost touching. “Not here,” she whispers.
I swallow, suddenly burning from the inside. He oozes alpha male sexuality with a heavy dose of virility.
Wylder’s eyes search hers. “We have the house to ourselves tonight, and I plan to take full advantage of the time alone and your body.”
My breath lodges in my throat. Damn. If she’s not panting yet, I know she will be soon. I’m panting for the both of us, and I’m not even the one he’s talking to.
“Save room for dessert!” Betty yells from the kitchen.
“Shit. I don’t know if I can eat anything else,” Gigi says softly so Betty can’t hear.
Pike, Gigi’s husband, covers her hand with his. “You’re lucky I don’t feel the same way.” He winks at her, and I almost fall off my chair.
Betty walks into the room with a giant casserole dish and stops near her husband. Santino wraps his arm around her legs, gripping her thigh. “Whatcha got, baby?”
Betty gazes down at him, and I can see the love in her eyes and his too. “Your favorite.”
“Tiramisu?” he asks her, trying to peek into the dish.
“That’s your favorite dessert, isn’t it?” she asks him, showing him the most beautiful tiramisu I’ve ever seen.
“Besides you, it is,” he replies.
I fan myself with my fingers. The sexual energy from everyone is overwhelming.
“Old people,” Tate mutters. “Ick.”
“You okay?” Brax asks me this time, sliding his hand onto my thigh before giving me a squeeze.
I close my eyes, trying to block out the urge to throw myself at him in front of everyone. “Just hot,” I tell him.
“You want to step outside and cool off?” he asks, sliding his chair out.
“Please,” I tell him. “Just for a minute.”
As soon as his hand moves from my thigh, I instantly miss the contact and the heat. “Come on,” he says, holding out his hand to me.
I slide my palm against his, and I ignore the way my body reacts from the contact. It’s like hisgrandmother put an aphrodisiac into the food tonight. What in the world is wrong with me?
“Don’t go for long. Coffee’s almost ready,” Betty says as she glances our way.
