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Goosebumps prickle across my skin and my thighs clench as Killian ushers me inside. I steal a glance at Killian’s pants to my other side. He’s hard too.
I’m sandwiched between my two hungry men. Who are hot. For me. For each other.
The doors close and we begin our descent.
A million sexy scenarios run through my head. Pesky questions follow.
“They’re mafia, right?” I blurt out. “Mar… Mor… Something like that?”
“Amara.” Carter squeezes my hand tighter. There’s not a hint of reprimand in his voice. Just my name.
“Carter?”
Both Carter and Killian glare down at me. Their hands clutch mine.
Strange. The security people can see us.
“The cameras in the elevators stopped working?” I ask.
“We made them stop working, pet.” Carter massages my inner wrist, his grin wicked. “We turned them off.”
“And to your question.” Killian gestures for me to step into the parking garage once the elevator doors open. “Yes. They were mafia. Julien’s friends. And our members. We have all sorts of people here.”
He doesn’t offer another explanation, nor do I ask for one. At the moment. I’m high on the feeling of having my fingers enlaced with theirs out in the—sort of—open.
I can’t wait for us to get home.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Carter
The moment the door to the penthouse closes, I’m on Amara. My chest is pressed to her back, my teeth run along the curve of her neck. My fingers push the zipper of her offensive dress down.
“Are they afraid of you? These Marino men? They have to be, right? Should I?” she asks now of all times.
After being quiet for the entire ride home. Her words are as chopped as her breathing, yet she still asks.
Sweet Amara. Curious Amara.
I wouldn’t change a single thing about her. Even her weird-as-fuck timing. Satan knows my own tact is virtually nonexistent.
Then again, maybe the reason she hasn’t said a word is our fault. Might have something to do with me fingering her to an orgasm in the back seat. While Killian instructed me how to touch her.
Oh, well. What matters is we’re here. That she’s asking about the Marino family with curiosity rather than disgust. She doesn’t push me off her or spit in Killian’s face as he nears her front.
We told her they’re members of the hotel. One of the meanest mafia families in New York. And she stays. Now, I’m more optimistic about her reaction once she knows everything. I’m gaining confidence one step at a time.
When I confess to her that Killian and I end people’s lives—out of necessity which I enjoy very much—she might stay.
I hope she does.
“Yes,” I hum in her ear. “You should be afraid.”
“Very afraid.” Killian stands in front of her. He’s brutal as he shoves the sleeves of the dress off her shoulders. “I thought you knew that.”
He pinches her pierced nipple, brushing his finger over the other. Harsh and soft. Playing with her head.
Turning her on.
