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“Pet.” Carter helps her up, his hand remaining around her neck. “I’ll give you the world. All you have to do is ask.”
“We will,” I agree and mean it. She turns her head to the camera and hence to me. Her smile shines so bright that my cold heart doesn’t just thaw. It melts into a puddle. “We’ll give you the whole damn universe.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Carter
I’ve never been big on micromanaging. Luna and our staff do a great job. Neither Kill nor I are needed to oversee every single detail. Which is why he’s the one at our attorney’s office, crossing the t’s and dotting the i’s before Amara’s shop becomes hers and hers alone.
And I’m here. I’m watching. You bet your ass I am.
Watching her.
Getting hard from the cute, graceful way she arranges the flowers for Luna’s wedding. We’re in conference room number two, the one we converted into a venue for a day.
I lean against one of the walls close to Amara, pretending to look over the room. I fucking don’t.
Every ounce of my focus belongs to her. Our unhinged woman in a khaki jumpsuit that hugs her breasts and round ass. With her wild blond hair tamed into two space buns on her head, she’s cute as fuck.
Fucking edible.
“Look at you, so, so pretty for Luna’s big day,” our woman hums to the arrangement as she sets it down. “Even in the dim light, you’re shiny. Making Momma proud.”
My cock jerks at the attention she gives them. I cross one ankle over the other as if that’d hide the massive hard-on I’m sporting.
Nothing can hide my need for her. It takes over everything. It’s everywhere. Because she’s beautiful. Because her body bends to our will however we fucking want her. Because she’s so pretty when she’s wet, dripping, begging. Because her crazy matches mine.
Because she’s the needle and the thread sewing the three of us together.
I’m obsessed. With her. With both of them.
A fatal illness, one I’ll take with me to my grave.
“Hey, flower girl,” I call when my already thin patience runs out.
Amara turns to fully face me. Hesitant, until I give in and wink at her. A quick one only Amara could catch. Her concentrated pout turns into a smile. Her scrunched brows shoot up.
“Everything okay?”
Better than okay. Better now that her smile shines brilliantly at me.
“These look good.” I cross my arms over my chest, tilting my head. “Nice work over there.”
“I’ll let Opal know you like it.”
I almost groan in frustration. Amara says Opal is the creative one of the two. That’s bullshit. She knows her flowers. She knows exactly what to do to make them stand out.
Opal is fine. Amara is…
Everything.
“I’m telling you, flower girl,” I whisper. “It’s you. Just you.”
She blushes, spinning on her heel to grab another arrangement and fusses around it.
Most days, the woman is feral. But I do get her flustered sometimes. I fucking love it.
My freaking heart warms at that. My fingers itch to touch her.
