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I come so hard that the searing pain in my flank causes my vision to blacken around the edges. Abruptly, I pull my fingers from Elena’s cunt and fist the couch cushion between her splayed legs for balance.

Staring up at me with concern, Vic lets my softening cock slip from between her lips. “You okay?”

“Yes.” I nod, carefully climbing onto the couch beside an already groggy Elena. She curls up beside me, laying her head on my bare thigh as Vic takes a seat on the other side of me and nuzzles against my chest. “I’ve fucking missed this. The three of us,” I confess, my hands roaming over them both as I wince. “I’d endure so much more than a little pain for the pleasure of being with both of you.”

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

ELENA

TWO WEEKS LATER

The moonlight dances over my bare feet as I pad across the cool hardwood floor of the living room. Glancing into the kitchen, I find Conor sitting at the counter, and I can’t help but shake my head at the sight.His broad frame is hunched slightlyas the doctor re-sutures the bullet wounds running down the side of his chest. Again.

Hearing me approach, the doctor looks up from his work and wipes at his brow with the back of his hand. The poor man keeps getting called here day and night because Conor can’t seem to stop tearing through his stitches.

“I know you’re happy to be alive and all,” the doctor laments, trying to maintain a professional demeanor—a difficult task when you’re doing house calls in the middle of the night dressed in pajama bottoms, a hoodie, and a pair of athletic sandals. “But maybe tone it down just a little. This is the fifth time in two weeks I’ve had to come patch you up.”

Being careful to stay out of the doctor’s way, I step closer to them. As I pass, Conor firmly grips my wrist and playfully—though aggressively—pulls me between his thighs. Holding me firmly to him, he dips his head and places a soft kiss in the crook of my neck.

“Are you blind, doc?” he shoots back, his tone dripping with playful confidence. “In all the times you’ve been here, have you somehow managed to not see the two gorgeous-as-fuck women walking around this place? Because I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t be giving yourself the same shitty fucking advice.”

The doc’s eyes flit between the two of us—lingering on mea bit longerthan he should—and he visibly gulps. Clearing his throat as though trying to regain his composure, his eyes drag from me back to his work. “Okay, maybe just don’t require any more restitching at 3 a.m.?” He huffs with a mixture of exasperation and annoyance, but I catch him trying to hide the smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth.

Conor chuckles as his hand runs around my hip and over the curve of my ass. He continues to dust his large palm over my body, and his eyes glint mischievously as he looks up at me. “Based on the way he’s looking at me, you might get called back before the sun comes up,” I snicker. I’m rewarded for my bratting with a hearty laugh from Conor and an incoherent mumble of irritation from the doc.

“I was wondering where you disappeared to, sweet girl,” Victoria announces as she joins us in the kitchen. She kisses the side of my neck and then drops a second on Conor’s bare shoulder. “Feeling better?” she asks, resting her hand gently on his thigh, her fingers teasingly brushing against the bare skin of my leg.

It’s strange how quickly everything has fallen back into place. How natural it feels. But I’m trying not to overthink it. The three of us just fit… likewe were always meantto be. Even with the challenges we’ve faced—and will likely face in the future—it all just works.

I look at Conor again, his eyes still twinkling despite the discomfort of the doctor working on him. He meets my gaze, his expression softening slightly as he picks up on the fact that I’m lost in my thoughts. His lips curl into a lazy smile as his gaze wanders between me and Victoria.

Watching the three of us with intrigue as he finishes the final stitch, the doc sighs. “At least try to keep your... um...enthusiasmin check. You’ll heal faster if we aren’t re-stitching you every couple of nights.”

“Are those doctor’s orders?” Conor scoffs, his amusement only further annoying the man.

“You’re impossible.” Vic shakes her head before turning her attention to the doc. “And you’re a saint for putting up with him.”

“Hey!” Conor exclaims. “You—both of you—are just as much to blame for him being here as I am. Only, in my defense, I can’t help it. The two of you have fucking ruined me.”

Having finished his sutures and with fresh gauze covering Conor’s new stitches, the doc washes his hands and grabs his bag. “Take it easy,” he insists again as he heads toward the door. “No more vigorous midnight escapades.”

“No promises. Besides, it’s well after midnight,” Conor calls over his shoulder as the man steps into the hall. The moment the door clicks shut, Conor’s eyes roam over both me and Victoria. “Aremy girls tired?” he asks, rubbing gingerly the fresh bandages running along his side. “Or are the two of you up for another round?”

“You’re incorrigible.” I lightly slap his chest. But even as the words leave my lips, I can’t deny my interest.

“Promise not to need more stitches?” Vic teases.

Pulling us both into him, hekisses up the side of my neck and gravellywhispers, “Definitelynot,cailíndáigh.”

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

VICTORIA

Sitting in the living room with a book in hand, I’ve spent more time enjoying the warmth of the midday sun shining through the window than I have actuallyreading. My thoughts are elsewhere anyway, reminiscing about how the three of us got here.

A shadow catches my eye in the hallway, and I look up to find Elena wandering the short length of the hall. “Are we back to pacing, sweet girl?” I ask, knowing she’s nervous about something. She lingers in the hall a second longer, unsure if she wants to join me in the living room.

When she stepsintothe room, I can practically feel the weight of whatever’s on her chest from the pained look on her face. “Is Conor not home yet?” she asks, her voice tight as her fingers twist together nervously.

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