CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Feelings.

So many of them. Assaulting me left and right.

Curiosity. Desire. The need to be good for Carter. The impulse to break the rules.

All of them pummel into me at once, leaving me dizzy.

There's one thing I'm definitely not feeling.

Well, two. First, I don't care for the blood dripping from the table. I have tripped and fallen over a harsh surface and split my chin open. It happens.

Second is, I'm not jealous.

Even though there's no telling what I just walked into, I can sense how intimate their interaction is. It's in the air. It's how they sit together. In a closed room. Touching.

And I'm. Not. Jealous.

Shocker.

I'm happy. Ecstatic. This is happening.

Carter grabs Killian's hand. Killian's broad shoulders are squared, and he keeps his focus trained on Carter. He's looking at him the same way he looks at me sometimes.

Carter said it's the look that means Killian needs.

Oh, Killian's fixing me with this glare now.

There's no apology behind his eyes. There's also no mistaking the wickedness on Carter's face.

The depravity.

The invitation.

The command.

I'm positive neither of them was about to do anything dirty while I was gone. They seem as if they've been holding back. Restraining their desires.

No need anymore.

I'm here.

I nibble on my bottom lip, ambling toward them. Giving each man equal amount of my attention.

Each step is calculated. Seductive. Teasing.

"Enough." Killian's warning thunders in the closed room.

My body reacts, and I stop in my tracks, less than a foot from Carter's chair. Carter just tilts his head at Killian.

The older man shakes himself out of Carter's hold. When Killian rises to his full, impressive height, he's towering over his stepson and me.

I don't miss the way Carter sends me one of his attractive, unhinged grins before turning his gaze up to Killian.

The confidence dripping from Carter is infectious. It injects courage into my veins. Bad thoughts into my head.

Neither of us says a word. A whole fucking lot is being communicated between us, anyway. In the silence.

Last night happened. The three of us are aware of it. The three of us feel it.

I'm breathing heavily. My heart's doing all sorts of crazy things in its cage.

"Come here," Carter repeats his request, outstretching his arm to me.

Hesitantly, I peek at Killian. At his fiercely snapped shut lips. The thick hard-on in his pants that he doesn't bother adjusting. Much like Carter.

Wetness soaks through my panties. A shiver runs up my spine.

The room screams of sex and debauchery. Exactly what Carter and I talked about yesterday. The longer I stay in place, the more likely it is that the moment will be ruined.

No.

The last foot disappears beneath my feet as I hop into Carter's welcoming arm.

Our movements and needs are in tune with each other. My body melds into his arm, and he hooks it around me, pulling me into his lap.

My legs hang over his side, my shoulder presses into his familiar chest.

"Good girl," he praises, though he isn't looking at me.

He's staring up at Killian. I follow him, extending Killian the same silent invitation.

There could be hell to pay if we keep this up. Confusion could come between the three of us. A heart would break. Hearts, maybe.

Still…

Carter's dick pokes my ass. Killian's hard-on is very obvious. There's no world outside this moment. Nothing could be wrong when it feels so fucking right.

For a moment, I let my mind wander.

Killian might let me brush my fingers over his length while Carter relieves him of his belt. I could unzip him, then Carter would take him out. Carter and I could suck Killian together. Kiss while we're licking his cock.

It would be perfect.

"Amara," Killian warns. "Sitting in Carter's lap here is inappropriate. You know better."

Gone is the Killian from last night. From this morning in the car. From a second ago.

This is the old Killian. He won't be persuaded to lose his inhibitions. His impenetrable walls are erected. There won't be breaking through them.

Any witty response I might have had dies at the realization. Carter senses the change in me. He presses me to him in a comforting, possessive hug. His stubbled cheek brushes my soft one. His warmth bleeds into my frozen body.

"The door's closed." He seethes, raising a hand to stroke my swollen temple.

"Closed, not locked," Killian counters. "Anyone might come in here and see the two of you."

Us. He means the three of us.

I don't correct him, though. I get Killian's message loud and fucking clear.

We're not just inappropriate. He's embarrassed of us.

Pain slices into my soul. Lead settles in my stomach. My head starts pounding with how hurt I am. I've been an idiot to believe after this morning I could mean something more to him.

I don't belong here.

Carter doesn't let me get away when I try to get up. I turn to him, my eyes imploring him to let me go. His dark eyebrows knit.

"Killian's right." I kiss his cheek, forcing a smile. "I should get going. You know how Opal hates being at the shop by herself."

Killian says nothing. He doesn't move to leave, either.

Carter doesn't look at him. His eyes are on me. His thumb strokes the underside of my breast. Right over my bra. The affectionate touch normally brings me to my knees. Literally.

When Killian's irritated figure doesn't loom over us. When he doesn't glower, indicating we should wrap it up.

"Later." My lips return to kiss Carter's cheek, my nose inhaling the sandalwood cologne and his manly scent. "We'll have the whole night to ourselves, sleeping buddy. Unless you're working late."

I should've gotten an Oscar for this, I swear. Carter believes my award-winning performance, offering me a hint of a smile.

"No, pet, I won't be working late."

His eyes tell me what his lips don't. That I shouldn't worry over Killian's reaction. That he has this.

Whatever this is.

"Text me and I'll come pick you up when you close the shop." He ignores Killian's intense energy, brushing an errant strand of my hair behind my ear. "Then we'll take everything you need from your apartment and come home." The way he says the last word, it's like he's sending a message to Killian, who's moved to stand in the doorway

I'm getting up when his words sink in. "I have my truck. I can do all that."

"You can forget about the truck," Killian clips. "You won't be leaving the shop alone at night."

Carter pinches my waist lightly as if saying I told you so. I blink at Killian, confused as fuck. So he does care?

"Until we're sure the man from last night doesn't have plans to come back"—his stance is wide, his expression determined—"we're taking you to and from work. The deliveries are fine. Leaving when he could hide in the shadows is not."

I swallow around the lump in my throat. First, Killian almost let us both suck him off. Then, he couldn't get away from Carter and me fast enough. Now, he's back to talking about solo car rides.

Another one of these whiplashes and my head will fly right off my neck.

"No. I'll take my truck." I scoff. They can't keep driving me crazy. I won't allow it. I wiggle out of Carter's grip and stand up, my hands on my hips. "I never park far from the shop. And I've been handling myself for years. I don't need your help."

"You'll have it anyway, Amara." Killian's icy fa?ade thaws. A little.

"Pet." Carter's large hand squeezes my ass, and I yelp.

The sound of his chair dragging along the floor alerts me that he's standing up. He comes to stand before me, blocking my view of Killian. He is so close that I'm forced to look up to see him.

When Carter directs his focus at me like that, he owns me. He controls the air I breathe. Holds my heart in his hand, dictating how fast it beats.

"Yes, Carter?" I ask, breathless.

"You won't fight us on this." His gray eyes say a million things I can't decipher. His knuckles graze my cheek. His fingers grip my chin. "Unless you want to be chained in the bathroom. You'd look so pretty. Our little naked prisoner waiting for us to get back from work every day."

I melt. He always knows the right thing to say.

When he kisses me, I wrap my arms around his neck. The door shuts quietly behind Killian. My chest tightens a fraction at that.

"Amara." Carter folds me into his embrace, yanking me to the warmth of his body. "Promise me one thing."

My eyebrows shoot up. "Anything."

"Remember what I told you about Killian." His fingers flex on my back, his forehead pressing to mine. He's hugging me, in the hotel, where anyone can see. "He's struggling. Doesn't mean he's angry or hates you."

"I'm not so sure about that."

"You promised." He bites my nose. "Now, get to work before I have to spank you for being a bad flower girl."

"You're tempting me." I tilt my head to steal a kiss.

"Oh, trust me." In a flash, Carter's fingers curl around my throat. "I'm really fucking tempted too. I…"

He sucks in a deep breath. I stop breathing altogether.

You love me. Just say it.

"I'll see you this evening." He squeezes my throat one last time, groans, and storms away.

I still don't breathe easier when he's gone.

The bell on the door to Carnations chimes when I walk in. "Hey, Opal."

"Amara," Opal calls to me from her place at the counter.

I don't actually see her. Only her tattooed arms, hands and fingers since she's hidden behind a monstrous flower arrangement.

"Finally," she grumbles.

Warmth makes my heart flutter as I let my eyes roam over the rest of the shop. More arrangements of the same flowers—blue hydrangeas and bellflowers—are scattered on the floor. They're so pretty, thanks to her. The extremely talented and introverted Opal.

"The arrangements have turned out incredible." I run my hand along the flower petals, lending into the peace they offer. This day has been chaotic, even for me. "The guests for tomorrow's wedding are going to come in their pants when they see this. That's how fucking stunning it is."

Seeing Georgia's catalog in Carter's home gave me a near heart attack. The morning after, I woke up with a sense of mission. I decided to take proactive measures that'd keep my shop afloat. I had to branch out.

My heart was set on offering my services as a wedding supplier.

I would've done it by myself, except my aesthetic sense was nonexistent. I was great at growing flowers and plants. Giving them the best conditions to thrive and to be the best version of themselves.

Arrangements? Pfft. Better ask me to tell the difference between a butter knife and a kitchen knife.

That was where Opal came in. My wedding department of one woman. My lifesaver. On her first week here, one of her relatives got married and we landed that gig. Ever since, the word has spread. I've been keeping her busy filling orders while I've been doing pretty much everything else.

Including the few walk-in clients that give her anxiety.

It's safe to say that the two of us complete each other. My only sort of a friend.

"You said you'd be gone for an hour." She peeks at me, her large brown eyes wide behind her oversized glasses.

I'm a weirdo around people. I own that. Love that. Opal, though, she can't do strangers at all. Working the register spikes her anxiety. She doesn't want to fail me, which is impossible, but she doesn't believe me when I say that. So I stopped.

"It's been two." One of her long, thick blond braids drapes over her shoulder, and she rearranges it behind her back nervously. "And this one person walked in."

Poor girl. I thought my early encounter with Killian was awkward. Looking at her, I see I wasn't the only one struggling.

"Got held up." I force a smile on my face. Carter promised things would be okay, that Killian doesn't hate me. I need to believe him. "Did they get anything?"

"No. He looked up and around, then rubbed his chin, smirked, and left. I'm sorry he didn't buy anything, but I was so relieved." When I don't respond, she pushes her glasses up on her freckled nose. "Hey, you okay?"

Shit.

Inhaling the fragrance of the flowers, I calm myself down. I maneuver around the arrangements and lock my purse in the locker behind the counter.

She places her scissors on the counter, gripping my hands in hers. She's forgotten about the walk-in customer. It's me that has her worried.

Crap.

"Yeah, I'm fine." The lie flows easily past my lips. I broaden my fake smile and nod, my space buns bobbing on my head. "Life's peachy."

Opal frowns. I don't think she buys it.

"Do I need to use these,"—she releases me, grabs the floral scissors again and clamps them twice in the air—"on a special someone that starts with a C and ends with I broke into your apartment as foreplay?"

The shock at hearing her joke freezes me for a moment. She doesn't sound anxious at confronting Carter. Because of me.

It feels like she's hugging my heart. And also, she's hilarious. I had no idea Opal had it in her.

I choke on my spit for a moment before bursting into giggles.

She's the only person in my life to know Carter and I are dating. Naturally, I shared some of his dirty-yet-safe-for-work texts with her. The only person other than Carter and Killian who cares enough to listen to me.

I'm curious as I study this hidden side of Opal. The introverted woman who came out of her shell to threaten Carter. For me.

Honestly, she's so cute. My giggle escalates into full-blown laughter the longer I think about it. My eyes tear up and I snatch my hands from hers to wipe at my cheeks.

"What?" Her smooth brow creases. "I know it's not your parents because you're never upset over anything those assholes do anymore. There's only one culprit left."

"It's a delicate situation," I explain.

"Meaning it'll be easier to handle." She raises the scissors. "Snip, snip, snip."

"Thanks, Opal." I lean in to hug her, not caring she suddenly stills instead of hugging me back. "I needed this."

"To have him castrated?"

"What? No." Her question snips something all right. Our hug. I pull back, my giggles waning. "No, no. No castrating. His dick is one of his best qualities."

Right after his affectionate, weird, and possessive heart. And how he comforted me this weird-ass morning.

"Gotcha, boss." She returns to shifting the flowers around. "If you ever change your mind…"

"I know where to find you."

I don't elaborate after that. She doesn't ask for more.

Talking about my disappointment and confusion isn't necessary. I laughed it out.

My flowers and Opal made it better.

Later that day, Carter makes everything perfect.

He shows up on time before I even have a chance to hang the Closed sign up and lock the shop for the weekend.