I take a slow breath and exhale the tension out of my shoulders as best I can. I carefully remove Monroe’s fists from the front of my shirt and give them a squeeze. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

One look at the bed, at Shiloh lying there with her legs spread, shaking a little, and I can barely get my next words out. I lift my voice a little. “We both want a taste. I think we can be polite and take turns.”

“Take turns.”

I shoot her a look. “Are you going to parrot everything I say back to me, or are you going to get on that bed and worship Shiloh’s pussy the way she deserves?”

Monroe chokes out a laugh. “Is that a trick question?” The smile she gives me lights up her eyes, and something in my chest thumps uncomfortably. “I knew you’d see things my way,” she murmurs.

“Hard not to when you draw your line in the sand so clearly. Who wouldn’t want to be on the same side as you?”

“Took you long enough to figure it out.” She heads for the bed, calling softly over her shoulder. “Get naked, Broderick. Let’s have some fun.”

Fun.

Right.

I drag my shirt over my head as Monroe crawls onto the bed. The sight of her and Shiloh… Sweet fuck, I don’t even know how to put it into words. Shiloh’s always been important to me, but sometime in the last twenty-four hours, I started to see Monroe as something other than an enemy to avoid or conquer. I don’t know if it’s how things went last night or seeing her interact with the woman I love, seeing her start to fall for Shiloh, though I doubt she realizes it’s happening.

She cares.

If she cares for her people half as well as she does for Shiloh, she’s going to be one hell of a queen. A formidable enemy, yes, but an even stronger ally.

But only if we can find a path forward.

I don’t know what that looks like. The concept is still too fresh to examine closely. I’ll deal with it later. I have a year, after all. By next Lammas, we’ll have this figured out, one way or another.

Shiloh moans and digs her hands into Monroe’s hair as the Amazon settles between her thighs. They’re really too beautiful for words, and the obvious way they care for each other only ramps up that beauty.

I fumble at the front of my pants, as rushed and awkward as a teenager. It takes a few deep, slow breaths before I get myself under control. My hands still shake a bit as I ease off my pants, but I manage to approach the bed at a leisurely pace, as if I’m not dying to take these women up on what we offered each other back at the bar.