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He’s staring up at Killian. I follow him, extending Killian the same silent invitation.
There could be hell to pay if we keep this up. Confusion could come between the three of us. A heart would break. Hearts, maybe.
Still…
Carter’s dick pokes my ass. Killian’s hard-on is very obvious. There’s no world outside this moment. Nothing could be wrong when it feels so fucking right.
For a moment, I let my mind wander.
Killian might let me brush my fingers over his length while Carter relieves him of his belt. I could unzip him, then Carter would take him out. Carter and I could suck Killian together. Kiss while we’re licking his cock.
It would be perfect.
“Amara,” Killian warns. “Sitting in Carter’s lap here is inappropriate. You know better.”
Gone is the Killian from last night. From this morning in the car. From a second ago.
This is the old Killian. He won’t be persuaded to lose his inhibitions. His impenetrable walls are erected. There won’t be breaking through them.
Any witty response I might have had dies at the realization. Carter senses the change in me. He presses me to him in a comforting, possessive hug. His stubbled cheek brushes my soft one. His warmth bleeds into my frozen body.
“The door’s closed.” He seethes, raising a hand to stroke my swollen temple.
“Closed, not locked,” Killian counters. “Anyone might come in here and see the two of you.”
Us. He means the three of us.
I don’t correct him, though. I get Killian’s message loud and fucking clear.
We’re not just inappropriate. He’s embarrassed of us.
Pain slices into my soul. Lead settles in my stomach. My head starts pounding with how hurt I am. I’ve been an idiot to believe after this morning I could mean something more to him.
I don’t belong here.
Carter doesn’t let me get away when I try to get up. I turn to him, my eyes imploring him to let me go. His dark eyebrows knit.
“Killian’s right.” I kiss his cheek, forcing a smile. “I should get going. You know how Opal hates being at the shop by herself.”
Killian says nothing. He doesn’t move to leave, either.
Carter doesn’t look at him. His eyes are on me. His thumb strokes the underside of my breast. Right over my bra. The affectionate touch normally brings me to my knees. Literally.
When Killian’s irritated figure doesn’t loom over us. When he doesn’t glower, indicating we should wrap it up.
“Later.” My lips return to kiss Carter’s cheek, my nose inhaling the sandalwood cologne and his manly scent. “We’ll have the whole night to ourselves, sleeping buddy. Unless you’re working late.”
I should’ve gotten an Oscar for this, I swear. Carter believes my award-winning performance, offering me a hint of a smile.
“No, pet, I won’t be working late.”
His eyes tell me what his lips don’t. That I shouldn’t worry over Killian’s reaction. That he has this.
Whatever this is.
“Text me and I’ll come pick you up when you close the shop.” He ignores Killian’s intense energy, brushing an errant strand of my hair behind my ear. “Then we’ll take everything you need from your apartment and come home.” The way he says the last word, it’s like he’s sending a message to Killian, who’s moved to stand in the doorway
I’m getting up when his words sink in. “I have my truck. I can do all that.”
