all that formative willpower on me. “Because Shiloh isn’t the only one who’s played it safe when it comes to your relationship. If I hadn’t forced the issue, you two would live to a ripe old age and never have a difficult conversation about the fact that she wants to sit on your cock and you’re dying to eat her pussy until she damn near passes out.”
“The only one I want to pass out right now is you with your fucking mouth.” The words feel vaguely sharp, but nowhere near the vehemence I’ve dredged up in the past. Because she’s right. It’s terrifying how right she is.
Monroe leans back against the headboard and waves her hand at her lower body. “Well, I’m not going to argue with oral sex. Go ahead then.”
I snort. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
“Do I? You’re so terrible with words, Broderick. I have to prod and prod and prod until you charge me, and then it’s all fucking and no communication. Can you blame me for provoking you?”
Not when she puts it like that. “You have a point. Get to it.”
“My point is that what we just did was fun. It was damn near seamless, and that kind of thing is worth its weight in gold when you’re having group sex. You both enjoyed yourselves. I enjoyed myself. There is no reason we shouldn’t do it again, preferably repeatedly for the next eleven months.”
Until she’s no longer my Bride.
Before, the thought filled me with nothing but relief and impatience. A year isn’t a long time in the grand scheme of things, but every moment with Monroe frays my patience to dangerous levels of loss of control. Now…
No, it’s not complicated. I can’t let it be complicated.
It doesn’t matter if what happened in this bed with Shiloh felt so fucking right, I can barely put it into words. It doesn’t matter that having Monroe in my corner and aligned in my purpose was practically magic. At the end of this handfasting, I will still be glad to send her back to her faction for good.
Shiloh crosses her arms over her chest, which is doing a number on my ability to pretend we’re not all sitting here naked. “Maybe I came to this bed for you. And Broderick was fucking you. One could argue that we’re only attracted to you, not each other.”
“There you go with that lying mouth again.” Monroe sighs, but it’s almost mock exasperation in her tone. “I ought to wrap it around Broderick’s cock and see who’s attracted to who at that point.”
The air in the room gains a thickness and heat that makes me achingly aware of each inhale. “You can’t say shit like that.”
“And yet I just did.” She shakes her head. “Fine. Have it your way, you stubborn asses. You can both fuck me, sometimes together, and keep it at that. Are you happy?”
No. Of course not. I want Shiloh in every way, but I can recognize it for the selfish desire it is. If I use this situation to take advantage of things, I’ll be worse than a fucking monster. It takes everything I have to lock down my emotions and keep them out of my voice. “If that’s what Shiloh wants.”
“It’s the smart thing to do.” She slides off the bed, and I watch helplessly as she bends to grab the oversized sleep shirt off the floor.
I would give my right arm for good light to see her properly in this moment. To trace the curves and slopes of her naked body with my gaze in a way I’m not permitted to with my hands. Then again, maybe it’s for the best. Wanting Shiloh is one thing when we’re very clearly defined as friends. This thing with Monroe smudges those lines by definition. No need to erase them completely.
Shiloh pulls the shirt over her head and hurries to the couch. It a rush of motion, she yanks on her pants and practically dives beneath the covers. “Good night.”
“Good night,” I respond automatically.
No reason for the yawning feeling akin to loss in my chest. No good reason, at least. Of course, Shiloh wants to preserve what little distance she can between us. Of course, she wouldn’t want to share a bed with me for something as intimate as sleeping.
Of course.
A light touch to the center of my chest. I look down to find Monroe watching me. Her teeth flash in the low light, and she climbs