“I’d like to keep it up.” My words try to stick in my throat, something like self-consciousness making my skin heat. “The three of us, I mean. There’s no reason not to keep enjoying ourselves, and I don’t think it’s a stretch to say we both care a lot about Shiloh.”

“Right. About Shiloh.”

I try to look at him, but the sun is in my eyes, and I can’t read his expression properly. There’s absolutely no reason to look into it. Just because he’s sitting so close, smelling so damn good, and also doesn’t want me dead… None of that means he actually gives a damn about me. After working so hard to get under his skin and torment him for three weeks, I’m lucky he’s not trying to throw me in front of a bus.

He wouldn’t succeed, of course, but it’s the thought that counts.

That uncomfortable feeling beneath my skin gets worse. “Look—”

“Monroe.” He twists his body toward me and catches my chin in a light grip. I still can’t see him with the glare in my eyes, but his voice deepens. “We make one hell of a team. Do you agree?”

“Yes,” I say cautiously.

“We’re in agreement that we both want Shiloh, and we’re both willing to share.”

“Yes,” I say again. It never even occurred to me to keep Shiloh to myself, not once I realized that she returned Broderick’s attraction. We fit well, but I’ll admit that I have a whole lot of fun when Broderick is involved, too. The power dynamics become so fluid, and our interactions just hit me in all the right spots. I’m not one to put labels on things; I’ve enjoyed monogamous relationships and polyamorous ones. Whatever fits everyone’s needs and ensures we’re having a good time is what I’m into.

Shiloh and I have a good time together.

But we have an even better time with Broderick in the mix.

Broderick strokes my bottom lip with his thumb. “That’s not the only thing we’re in alignment with, though. Is it, Monroe?”

“No. I guess not.” I try for a witty comeback, but his tongue shorts out my thoughts. “I enjoy provoking you when we’re fucking, but it’s kind of nice having actual conversations sometimes.”

“Yeah, it is kind of nice, isn’t it?” He strokes my lip again. “I don’t like the thought of you dead.”

I swallow hard. It doesn’t mean anything. No matter how I push and provoke him, at his core, Broderick is a good man. Of course he wouldn’t want me dead. But I can’t leave this tiniest of olive branches unanswered. “I don’t want you dead, either.”