“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 onto her knees to whisper in my ear, “Have faith, husband.”
“I’m not your husband.” I’ve said it so many times, the response is more habit than anything else.
She twines her arms around my neck and presses a quick kiss to my cheek. She’s gone before I can decide if I want to welcome the contact or not, moving to her side of the bed and sliding beneath the covers.
Have faith.
In what? What is Monroe’s motivation for doing all this? That, more than anything, confuses me. I believe her attraction to Shiloh is genuine, and she seems to actually care for my best friend as well. Feelings that are mutual between both women as best I can tell.
But Monroe hates me. She has every reason to. Us colliding sexually a handful of times doesn’t change the fact that she’s been handfasted to me against her will. No matter what her motivations are now, she initially sought out Shiloh to hurt me.
I can’t trust her.
No matter how good the sex. No matter how perfect it felt to have our wills aligned instead of in conflict. No matter how much we both seem to want Shiloh.
Trusting Monroe is playing directly into her hands.
Chapter 18
Monroe
Shiloh is gone when I wake up the next morning. That doesn’t surprise me. The fact that Broderick is still in the room, however, does. He sits on the edge of the bed, his hair wet from the shower, and looks at me. “We have to work together.”
“To seduce Shiloh, yes.” I answer too quickly, maybe, but I don’t know how to deal with this newfound peace between us. It feels strange and fragile and I kind of want to smash it with a hammer so at least I know when to expect it to explode in my face.
He snorts. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Monroe. I meant what I said last night—you’re in danger if we can’t get our shit ironed out.”
Ah. That.
I sit up, letting the sheet fall to my waist, and can’t help the shiver of pleasure that goes through me when his attention drops to my breasts…and stays there. It would be the simplest thing in the world to provoke him, to seduce him, to stop this conversation in its tracks.
I am stronger than that weak impulse. I have to be.
I also can’t afford to ignore Broderick reaching out a hand, no matter how reluctantly.
With a sigh, I drag the sheet back up to cover myself and am saint enough to ignore the way his skin goes red in response. Still, I can’t help poking at him, just a little. “One would think you’d be grateful someone else was willing to get rid of me. It’d take care of your little problem so you don’t have to.”
“I don’t want you dead.” The words are so soft, I almost convince myself I imagined them.
“Why not?” Maybe I’m not that smart, after all. This conversation stings in ways I’m not prepared to examine, but I can’t stop prodding the wound. “I’m a pain in your ass. When you’re around me, you constantly act in ways you claim aren’t normal for you, and you hate that. I seduced the woman you’re in love with right under your nose and then flaunted it in your face.”
He clenches his jaw like he’s biting down on a bunch of words that would send us spiraling. Finally, he grinds out. “I don’t like you overmuch, but it took two of us to get to this place. I’m not blameless and you don’t deserve to die just because you’re a pain in my ass.”