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Problem is, it wasn’t Preston’s fault. Killian’s a big boy. He didn’t need me there.
I risked Amara’s life for a few more minutes with my stepdad, which is fucking sick.
But I lo—No. I care for them both. Am attracted to her and him.
My cold, emotionless heart thaws for Amara. I don’t feel weak about it. I feel like a starved man who’s been offered a bite of food. Any food.
Sure, my physical attraction to Killian has been living and kicking for years.
Watching him shirtless is my favorite part of our home. The muscles rippling across his chest. The light smattering of hair leading lower down the V-shaped muscle in his stomach.
The motherfucking bulge in his pants.
My thighs have clenched more times than I’d like to admit. It’s sick, needing to have him plow into me. I beat off imagining I was sucking his cock.
I’ve stayed away, though. Thinking he didn’t want to. Thinking Amara wouldn’t be interested in having the three of us together.
But now, as the three of us have bonded the way we have, I want something more.
Beyond sex.
Beyond just Amara and me. Beyond just Killian and me.
We can’t go there, though. Fucking life is challenging enough. Add Killian to the mix—another man who’ll love her and who’ll love me like that—and calamity would ensue.
I don’t give a shit about fucking small-minded idiots. The world’s opinions on my sexual preferences can go suck it. Because opinions are like assholes and all that.
Whatever.
I care that Amara and Killian live.
That is exactly why we can never be together.
“Carter,” she hums.
I feel her warmth through my black T-shirt and sweatpants. My hand reaches up to stroke her silky blond locks. To carefully brush the bruise on her temple.
She doesn’t say another word. Sound asleep.
So peaceful, my beautiful Amara. So different from her vivid, magnetizing personality.
Every part of her is a favorite of mine. I might even…love her?
I don’t know how to say it. Hell, I’ve never said it to another person in my life. Not even Killian, and fuck knows I feel it.
Maybe one day I’ll find it in me to tell her.
Her lips tug into a soft smile. I trace my fingers absentmindedly along her cheek, down her neck. Her purr reverberates in the quiet room.
As impossible as it is, my mind won’t rest.
The three of us. The things we could do.
In bed. On the floor. Standing up.
Shit, my chest warms at the thought.
Goddamn emotions. It’s fucking embarrassing.
