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.”