Flirting with the Frenemy (Bro Code #1)(69)

My jaw slips.

Her brows furrow, and she starts to reach for her head, but I snag her hand. “Don’t. Just… Hey, Tucker? Go get the gloves and bring them inside, okay? We’ll get ice cream. We’ll get ice cream right now.”

He giggles. “Miss Captain Ellie, a bird just pooped in your hair!”

“Go on,” I say, giving him a gentle shove in the right direction.

“Are you kidding me?” Ellie mutters.

I can’t decide if I want to laugh or if I need to go into full-on overprotective mode, but as soon as Tucker turns his back, she lifts a middle finger to the sky. “Bring it, asshole,” she mutters.

“If you really meant it,” I tell her, “you’d use both middle fingers.”

Something squawks, and a bird bounces off the neighbor’s side window. It falls on the ground, leaps to its feet, bounces around like it’s dizzy for a minute, and then takes off again in the opposite direction.

Ellie dusts her hands. “That’s right. Who’s in charge now?”

I don’t bother stifling a smile.

Because that’s my girl.





Epilogue





Wyatt, who most definitely put a ring on it a year later in a story for another time



There’s nothing quite as beautiful as watching Ellie pause in her yoga routine next to the bar in Beck’s basement to smile at her ring. Tucker’s passed out cold upstairs after more fun at the pirate festival than even I thought possible, and though he’ll be up with the sun, I have plans for this pretty lady that involve getting her naked ASAP and neither of us sleeping for hours.

“That as far as you can stretch?” I ask. “C’mon, Ryder. You’re barely touching your knees.”

She rolls her eyes, but she’s still smiling. “With my nose, you big jerk. Like to see you try.”

I settle on the ground next to her, on my hands and knees, and I bend over and kiss her knee. “See? Nothing to it.”

“You goober,” she says with a laugh, rubbing my short hair and catching me by the back of the neck so she can kiss me.

And so I can kiss her back.

If I live to be two hundred, I’ll never get tired of kissing Ellie. I sometimes can’t believe I spent so many years thinking she was just an annoying twit, because this Ellie is all heart.

And too many people overlook it because she’s also determination and grit and honesty. But it’s all driven by that heart that she puts into everything.

She pushes me onto my back and straddles me. “Have I told you how much I love my rings?” she whispers, because yep, she got more than one.

“Nope. I’m pretty sure you hate them and you’re just humoring us.”

She laughs. “You’re absolutely correct. But since they come with Tucker, I guess I’ll keep them.” Her hair tickles my cheeks as she bends to kiss me, and I thread my fingers through the soft, curly locks while I tease her tongue with mine.

Her phone buzzes on the floor next to us, but we both ignore it. Her fingers are trailing over the vacation stubble on my jaw, and there’s nothing I love more than her touch on my face.

Except maybe the way she’s rocking her pussy over my rapidly hardening cock.

That’s pretty fucking amazing too.

Especially knowing how hard she’s worked to get so much strength and range of motion back in her leg.

Anytime Beck gives me shit for sleeping with his sister, I point out how much I’ve improved her flexibility.

Her phone buzzes again. “Sorry,” she murmurs. “Couldn’t help myself. I posted a picture of my rings on Twitter.”

“So you do like them.”

“Maybe a little.” Her eyes sparkle while she dips her head to press a kiss to my neck. I slide my hands under her shirt, and—“Dammit, Ellie, I fucking hate your sports bras.”

She laughs while she straightens and pulls off both her shirt and the stupidly tight rubber band with straps that require flexibility and acrobatics to pull off.

I don’t mind the show, but it looks like wearing it would hurt.

Though I do like the way her breasts just somehow fall right into my waiting palms while she’s still wrangling the thing over her head.

So soft. And those gorgeous pink tips that harden immediately under my thumbs are making my cock ache. I lean up to take one in my mouth, and she gasps and grips my shoulders. “Wyatt.”

“Mmm,” I hum against her nipple, and her breath catches again while she arches into me.

Her phone erupts in a series of buzzes, and she laughs breathlessly. “I should shut that off.”

“Ignore it,” I reply, shifting my focus to her other breast while I roll her wet nipple between my thumb and finger.

“Oh, god, Wyatt, what if Tucker gets up again?” she whispers.

“I’ll hear him.”

“Like last time?”

“Ellie. He’s passed out cold.” I blow on her nipple, and it works.

She moans and grabs my face and kisses me hard, then orders me to lose my shirt too.

I’m happily obliging when her phone blows up.

Not like kitchen-fire-level blowing up, but a steady stream of buzzes that just don’t stop.

At all.

She huffs and leans over to grab it. “Stupid pho—oh.”