“Of course,” Killian says as he loosens his hold on me to lean down and scratch Alfie behind the ear. “Such a good boy,” he coos.
And that’s the best confirmation I can get. Killian—my former bully and the man who meets the world with cold authority and arrogance—cooing at a dog.
A wide smile spreads across my face, and I beam at Ian, who’s watching from the side. He gives a reassuring nod—I told you so—and my smile grows even wider.
Wrapping an arm around my waist, Killian brings me to the floor with him so he can give the dog an even better petting. Alfie drops his head into Killian’s lap, tail tapping loudly against the floor as it enjoys the best type of cuddles. I would know, because I’ve gotten an overwhelming amount of cuddles from Killian over the last year and a half. He’s grown even cuddlier than me; sometimes I even have to tell him off when he comes and grabs me from behind while I’m in the middle of something.
“What’s he called?” Killian asks, holding me firmly to his side while continuing the eager head scratching.
“Alfie,” I say. “He belonged to an elderly man before he came to the shelter. His owner was in good health, but suddenly he dropped dead from a heart attack, and his family couldn’t take Alfie.” I lean in to scratch the little dog, and it earns me a big lick on the hand. “It was love at first sight, and I knew you’d love him too.” I knew it in my gut, but it didn’t keep me from being a nervous wreck when Ian and I decided to adopt him as a surprise for Killian instead of discussing it with him first.
“And you’re good with this?” Killian glances up at Ian, and as if on cue, Ollie, our ginger cat, sidles up and rubs his head against Ian’s leg. We got him a few months after the competition so Ginny wouldn’t be alone when we all had to fly out for competitions or to see Killian play and it was just the cleaning lady who came to check on them.
Ian huffs and leans down to stroke the cat. “Do I have much of a choice?” He casts me a disgruntled look—full of hidden humor.
I wriggle my hips, loving his disgruntled display of dissatisfaction that’s not really as dissatisfied as it seems. “No,” I say, biting my lips to soften the grand smile that always erupts upon teasing Ian—something I’ve been doing more and more frequently.
It earns me another huff. Then Ian scoops Ollie up and comes to sit at my side. Wrapping a hand around my nape, he gives me a slow shake and leans in to kiss my lips. “Careful, or we’ll have to take a trip to my office and the spanking bench.”
My cheeks heat.
Killian catches on and turns to me, grabbing my face in his strong hand. “What antics have you been up to now?” he says while staring me down, but the question is directed at Ian.
“Last week, I found her using one of my canes as a kitten toy.”
A wicked smile lights up Killian’s eyes. “And what did that get her?”
“Thirty strikes with said cane,” Ian responds.
“Ouch,” Killian says.
More heat spreads across my face, and I blink down toward my lap and back up. “The marks are still there.”
“Only faint bluish spots,” Ian explains. “I figured we could freshen them up tonight. I suppose you could use the outlet, and she could use a reminder of where she belongs.”
“Maybe instead of punishing her, we should do a little preventive work. A weekly caning event?” Killian suggests.
“No,” I gasp. “I hate the cane.”
“Exactly,” Killian says.
“I think that’s a very good idea,” Ian agrees.
I’m struggling to hold Killian’s eyes now. His gaze has turned darker and sharper, and my eyes keep flickering away, then snapping back to him by a magnetic force. With each passingsecond, I melt a little further into Ian’s firm grip on my nape, giving in to their control.
“Or maybe we should get it over with now?” Killian suggests. “Cane, then cuddles?” He’s already getting up, probably having seen Ian’s agreement before he can even verbalize it. Their quiet communication is getting eerie these days—and so damn sexy my knees can barely hold me up as Ian steers me up onto my feet.
“How about Alfie? Will he be okay?” Killian asks.
“Another benefit of not getting a puppy,” Ian says. “He’s already trained and used to being alone, and he’s been with us for a week. He didn’t notice a thing when I caned Jenna last week. So just shut him in here. Ollie will keep him company.”
“Where’s Ginny, by the way?” Killian asks, glancing around.
“Have you missed her?” I ask in a soft voice and with a bit of a teasing smile. I can’t help it. Teasing Killian about how much he has softened toward Ginny has become habitual—a habit that’s very bad for my ass, but also worth every fiery strike. Ginny has become Killian’s cat. She always sleeps where he sleeps and follows him everywhere he goes. Especially when he comes home from a tour, she’s like glued to him.
Killian delivers a hard smack to my ass, and I let out a huffed grunt.
“We’d better get her to my office,” Ian says, and then both men grab my arms and steer me along, closing the living room door behind them.