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Amara is the magnet that brings the two of us together. Without her, Killian and I wouldn’t have been here.
Without her, Killian’s resistance wouldn’t have snapped twice—first for her, then me.
But I need him just the same.
Everything fell into place today, every fucking thing. The way we sandwiched her. His mouth, his cock, his balls, all the while I had her with me. I had them both.
The dam came down. All hell broke loose. Our safe reality was drowned out. Fuck, yeah, I heard the bitch choke on her way down.
Nothing’s safe anymore. Being together means we’re vulnerable.
Amara hums something in her sleep. Adorable little thing. I release her hair, stroking it reverently. Maybe one day when the words I love you won’t choke me, I’ll be able to tell her how I feel.
Until then, I’ll give her what she wants. What we want.
Chaos and calamity. The three of us for-fucking-ever.
We’re never going back to what we were. Never.
“He’s right, you know?” I whisper to the sleeping Amara as I pull Killian’s blanket up to her shoulders. “You’re beautiful, pet. So beautiful. Every fucking inch of your body and every cavern of your twisted little soul. So beautiful that I have to hold myself from chopping off one of your fingers and making a pendant from it.”
With thoughts of her thumb on a necklace around my neck, I kiss her forehead and slip out of bed to hunt for Killian.
I’m not looking to fuck him. I need to talk, which is strange. I never do that, except when I have to. And tonight, I do. Tonight I have to clear the air between him and I. Privately.
Amara would understand. Hell, the way she was today, how she insisted on us touching each other—she’d probably have encouraged me to do it.
My dirty angel.
I’m silent as I walk over to Killian’s closet instead of heading to mine.
My cock jerks again as I slip on the boxers he wore. Yes, they’ve been washed, but still. His ass, balls, and dick were where mine are now. Precum might’ve stained them at one point.
Fuck, I can’t go there. I can’t get hard for this conversation.
Shaking myself out of it, I pull on one of his black sweats, going to his bathroom next. My reflection smiles back at me, my grin a wicked one as I use Killian’s toothbrush. Imagine Amara using it as well. The ultimate sharing.
Killian will probably have a fit. So freaking what. He’ll learn to accept it. Will learn to love it.
Once done, I step out of the room, careful to shut the door quietly behind me. Outside, in the hallway of the second floor, it doesn’t take more than a second for me to find him.
Light filters beneath the door to our study.
He’s working. Always working.
At any given time, there’s this or that issue that needs to be handled for our hotel.
New members to vet. Members that require monitoring. Meetings to schedule and other bureaucratic shit to handle.
Most of it can wait until the morning. A concept Killian’s insomniac ass struggles to comprehend.
It grates on my nerves when he briefs me on everything in the morning. Keep telling him he should try and go to bed or at least do something fun. Let me handle shit in the morning.
Over the years, I’ve come to learn he won’t listen. Stubborn fucker.
I open the door, leaning on the doorframe. I don’t knock when I enter the office. Never do.
“Hey,” I offer after a few minutes of silence. Even I have my creeper limits.
