CHAPTER TWENTY

My eyes blink open to a familiar feeling.

One of Amara's legs drapes over mine. The other slides between my thighs. Her hot, naked pussy and tits press against the front of my body. Jasmine. Soft curves. Shallow breath tickling my chest.

The room's dark, so it's safe to assume it's sometime around the middle of the night. Doesn't matter though. I see my beautiful pet.

Her eyelids are heavy on her beautiful eyes, eyelashes resting peacefully on her pink cheeks. I'm already brimming with desire for her.

She's sleeping and still seeks me out. I'll never tire of that.

Out of habit—same as I've done many times before—I take her with me as I scoot to a sitting position. Ready to feed her my cock. Get her teeth scraping my shaft and giving me the most delicious kind of pain as I face-fuck her while she sleeps.

My dick swells just thinking about her waking up from gagging on me. How fast she comes when she has my seed for breakfast instead of coffee.

The tip of my cock presses to her plump lips. Aching to push against them. Past them.

And… I don't do it. For the first time since Amara and I started dating, I stop myself from violating her while she sleeps.

My instincts scream to put her mouth where it belongs. My ever-softening heart twists, forcing me to stop. My fingers are dug deep in her silky tresses, ready to do it, and I can't.

I'm split in half, because there's a void in this bed that's not mine.

Because something's missing.

Someone.

Killian.

The memories of this evening slowly creep up on me, and like a really good fucking nightmare, I can see—no, feel—everything.

Amara is the magnet that brings the two of us together. Without her, Killian and I wouldn't have been here.

Without her, Killian's resistance wouldn't have snapped twice—first for her, then me.

But I need him just the same.

Everything fell into place today, every fucking thing. The way we sandwiched her. His mouth, his cock, his balls, all the while I had her with me. I had them both.

The dam came down. All hell broke loose. Our safe reality was drowned out. Fuck, yeah, I heard the bitch choke on her way down.

Nothing's safe anymore. Being together means we're vulnerable.

Amara hums something in her sleep. Adorable little thing. I release her hair, stroking it reverently. Maybe one day when the words I love you won't choke me, I'll be able to tell her how I feel.

Until then, I'll give her what she wants. What we want.

Chaos and calamity. The three of us for-fucking-ever.

We're never going back to what we were. Never.

"He's right, you know?" I whisper to the sleeping Amara as I pull Killian's blanket up to her shoulders. "You're beautiful, pet. So beautiful. Every fucking inch of your body and every cavern of your twisted little soul. So beautiful that I have to hold myself from chopping off one of your fingers and making a pendant from it."

With thoughts of her thumb on a necklace around my neck, I kiss her forehead and slip out of bed to hunt for Killian.

I'm not looking to fuck him. I need to talk, which is strange. I never do that, except when I have to. And tonight, I do. Tonight I have to clear the air between him and I. Privately.

Amara would understand. Hell, the way she was today, how she insisted on us touching each other—she'd probably have encouraged me to do it.

My dirty angel.

I'm silent as I walk over to Killian's closet instead of heading to mine.

My cock jerks again as I slip on the boxers he wore. Yes, they've been washed, but still. His ass, balls, and dick were where mine are now. Precum might've stained them at one point.

Fuck, I can't go there. I can't get hard for this conversation.

Shaking myself out of it, I pull on one of his black sweats, going to his bathroom next. My reflection smiles back at me, my grin a wicked one as I use Killian's toothbrush. Imagine Amara using it as well. The ultimate sharing.

Killian will probably have a fit. So freaking what. He'll learn to accept it. Will learn to love it.

Once done, I step out of the room, careful to shut the door quietly behind me. Outside, in the hallway of the second floor, it doesn't take more than a second for me to find him.

Light filters beneath the door to our study.

He's working. Always working.

At any given time, there's this or that issue that needs to be handled for our hotel.

New members to vet. Members that require monitoring. Meetings to schedule and other bureaucratic shit to handle.

Most of it can wait until the morning. A concept Killian's insomniac ass struggles to comprehend.

It grates on my nerves when he briefs me on everything in the morning. Keep telling him he should try and go to bed or at least do something fun. Let me handle shit in the morning.

Over the years, I've come to learn he won't listen. Stubborn fucker.

I open the door, leaning on the doorframe. I don't knock when I enter the office. Never do.

"Hey," I offer after a few minutes of silence. Even I have my creeper limits.

Killian twists his attention from his laptop to me. "Carter."

Shirtless and unshaven, he looks regal as fuck behind our mahogany desk. The lamp by his side does nothing to soften his sharp features. Nothing can soften Killian. Not even the homey feeling of our home office.

Wooden bookshelves, the expensive Persian rug, the antique leather couch.

None of that touches Killian.

Well, maybe other than Amara and now me.

He's as harsh and strong as ever. The man I've idolized since I can remember.

"Busy?"

Of course he is. He's serious. Deep in thought. Much like he looked on my fourteenth birthday. The first time he introduced me to what our hotel really deals in.

When he started treating me like an adult, business-wise.

"Today is the first step in your four-year internship, Carter."

We were at his office in the hotel. He sat behind his desk, while I occupied the chair across from him. Finally, after years of begging him, I was dressed in a fitted black suit. Just like him.

I wasn't attracted to him back then. I admired him. Wanted to be him.

He didn't have weaknesses. Nothing broke through his rough exterior. Always composed and respected wherever he went. Especially here.

Especially after they'd leave his office bloodied or with their heads bowed in humiliation. I'd been a kid waiting outside for him to be finished when they walked out wounded, but I'd understood the power he had over them. How he fucked people up.

I wanted that. Fucking craved that.

Now that he'd let me in.

Excitement at wreaking havoc and cracking skulls brimmed beneath my skin.

I'd been visiting the gym in our apartment building. Lifting weights. Started boxing. My knuckles were raw from pummeling into the punching bag. My muscles primed to be put to good use. A violent use.

"So ready." I gripped the arms of the chair, fingers clenching and unclenching. "I'm strong enough to break someone's nose, Killian. To crack ribs. My boxing partner's still at the hospital after last night. I can beat anyone up for you. Let me."

"Easy there." His lips twitched. Quickly, he schooled them back to the straight, firm line he'd been known for. "Beating people up isn't the main focus of our business."

My brow furrowed. I was motherfucking confused.

"I saw them," I accused.

"Yeah, you did." He steepled his fingers on the desk. "Hurting members who step out of line is one aspect of our job. A necessity to toe the line. Our main focus, though, is running this hotel and keeping the peace around here."

He continued then to elaborate on every boring task and routine. Suppliers, paying taxes, the member vetting process. What mediating means, and why Killian—and now, we—were the ones to handle it.

They trusted him to do it. He was as ruthless as the rest of them, but he had no weakness. He had morals, though. Every low life, every politician passing through our doors, they were crooked as fuck. Killian could tell left from right better than any of them ever could.

I'd taken that for granted at the time. Suppressed my yawns through the whole lecture. Surely, the juicy bits were just around the corner.

When he got to the rules, my ears perked up.

Finally.

"It's vital you remember"—his eyes narrowed as he leaned forward—"we don't go around beating people up for no reason. We're here to maintain the peace, not to use people as our punching bags for the fuck of it."

"What if—"

"Otherwise." Killian's forefinger was raised, silencing me. "We'll be just like the rest of them. They'll sniff it out. What would happen then?"

"They'll turn on us, then run off somewhere else," I growled. "The cowards."

"Correct. You're a clever boy, Carter." His approval washed over me, warm and strange and addictive. "This internship won't be easy, even for a smart young man like you. These people are savages. Not to mention all the knowledge I have to pass on to you. You'll still go to school, make no mistake. The rest of the time you'll spend here. You won't sleep much. Your social life will be nonexistent. Then, at eighteen, if you're ready—"

"I motherfucking will be." Mirroring his stance, I leaned forward, my forearms resting on the desk. "You know I will."

"I hope so." He didn't scold me for cussing, continuing as if I didn't breathe fire and swear in his office. "Then, I'll make you an official partner here. An owner. Would you like that?"

My eyebrows shot up. "When do we start?"

His lips quirked in an evil smirk. "You start by shadowing one of our housekeepers for three hours. Natalie. That's how interns start. From the bottom. When you're done, come find me, and we'll go from there."

I agreed right away. Didn't give him the I'm too good for this shit manifesto.

Kids cried like little bitches. I wasn't no fucking kid anymore.

I was a man.

And here I am, years later. His equal.

His partner.

"Always something to do." He beckons me to come in.

I don't.

His words are loaded. His words could imply he's regretting this evening.

Fuck that.

Reminding him we aren't wrong, I stroke my abs and play with the waistband of his sweats I'm wearing, steering him in the right direction.

His eyes go down there for a second too long before he cuts them to mine. He doesn't look flustered. Jaw strong, gaze intense. "Come inside. Shut the door behind you."

He gives me nothing. Noncommittal as always. A walking, talking mindfuck. It's the one trait he couldn't ingrain in me. I wear my crazy on my sleeve. He hides his. Religiously.

"Sure." I do as he says, lowering myself on the leather armchair in front of him.

"Not there." Killian surprises me by getting up, motioning with his head to the couch, while arranging his sweatpants. "Over there. I believe you came here to talk. Let's talk."

Knots twist my stomach now that we're actually doing this.

He's right. I came here for answers. I came here for clarity.

Might as well get it over with.