Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92118 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92118 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Once again, it’s Monroe who saves us before regret can take hold. She leans forward and kisses Broderick and then does the same to me. “Let’s go home.”
Home.
Does she realize she just called the compound home? Surely not. No matter what else is true about tonight, the fact remains that we’re operating under a time limit. Monroe is the Amazon heir. There’s no way this ends in anything but us parting ways.
I don’t know if Broderick and I work without her.
What am I saying?
We don’t work at all beyond friends, no matter how good it felt to come on his hands. She’s the bridge between us. That means he and I end on next Lammas, too.
The knowledge creates something thick and cloying in my chest. It’s an important reminder; I’ve always preferred the harsh truth to the pretty fiction. If anything, the limited time means I don’t have another hour to lose. I want both of these infuriating people. I want them as much and often and in as many ways as possible.
In a year, I’ll deal with them ripping my heart in half and each taking their part of that bloody organ with them when they go.
A small price to pay for the pleasure offered now.
Chapter 23
Broderick
The drive back to the compound happens in a blur. I keep waiting for Monroe or Shiloh to put a stop to this, to knock us all back to reality. They don’t. If anything, they ramp up the tension between us as I drive. Monroe has one hand on my leg and the other pressed to the juncture of Shiloh’s thighs through her jeans. She and Shiloh don’t stop kissing the entire time. The lust is so thick, I can taste it on my tongue.
It’s not the only thing I want to taste.
My cock is so fucking hard, and Monroe rhythmically dragging the heel of her hand up and down the length imprisoned in my jeans isn’t doing anything for my control. I nearly crash the fucking truck into the curb trying to park. Monroe’s laugh only spurs me on. I twist and shove my hand between her legs. “Is it funny taunting me, you witch?”
“Yes.” She spreads her legs wider. “It really is.”
I stroke her a few times, until she’s gone pliant against me. And then I take my hand back. “Our room. Right now. Both of you.”
“Sir, yes, sir.” Monroe doesn’t quite manage the mocking lilt she normally accomplishes. We’re too busy piling out of the truck and heading for the main building in a tangle of need and desire.
I can’t stop touching them, running my hand down Shiloh’s spine, digging my other hand into the mass of Monroe’s hair. Our bedroom is too fucking far away, but there’s nowhere else we can do this properly. “Hurry.”
For once, neither of them argues with me. As we hit the top of the stairs, I catch sight of Abel and Eli down the hallway. My older brother raises his brows, but I have no time to answer the unspoken question on his face. I flip him the bird and practically shove Monroe through the door into our room. She laughs. She always seems to fucking laugh when I’m losing control. I should hate it. I used to hate it.
But…
Okay, fuck, fine. It turns me on, too. It doesn’t matter how shaken I am by losing control, she’s always there to egg me on, to take me farther into the dark. She never looks at me with horror. There’s only challenge and need in those green eyes.
I slam the door shut behind us and flip the lock. The click sounds freakishly loud in the sudden quiet of the room. I speak before the silence can become awkward and filled with doubt. “Take off her dress, Shiloh. I put on a show for you. Give me the same courtesy.”
She gives me a faint smile. “Turnabout is fair play?”
“You have no idea.”
Monroe turns her back to Shiloh and pulls her hair over her shoulder, exactly the way she did in the bar for me. For all her victorious grin, I can see her shivering from here as Shiloh works the zipper down and slides the green dress off Monroe’s body.
And what a fucking body.
It feels like I’ve spent so long fighting my attraction to her, I haven’t let myself appreciate how devastating Monroe is, both in and out of clothing. She’s built lean and muscular, and I’ve seen her in the gym in the compound enough to know she works hard to keep in fighting shape—literally. Her breasts are high and round and capped with dark-pink nipples. She looks good enough to eat.
Not yet.
“Now do Shiloh.”
The grin Monroe gives me is wide and without a shred of artifice. “Gladly.” She turns to Shiloh and skims off her black tank top. Monroe cups her breasts through the black bra she wears, teasing all of us for a long moment before she slides the straps down and reaches behind Shiloh to unhook it.