Porterhouse

Women. The saying went, can’t
live with them, can’t live without them. I would agree to that, except it
wasn’t all women. Just one in particular. Jill Murphy. I couldn’t live with her
because she wasn’t ready yet to do more than date casually. The fact that she
wanted me and Liam Hogan but hadn’t
let herself admit that yet was probably the reason. We weren’t helping her with
that all too much since she didn’t know we were both totally on board with it. He
and I had met and agreed we’d claim her together. Why fight when we could both
have her? Two men taking care of her, loving her, protecting her was better for
Jill. She’d always have a man to lean on, to take care of her every need.

We both wanted her. Both
ached for her. Both needed inside her, and soon. I could sway a jury in the
courtroom with strategic words and a solid argument. But Jill wasn’t a case to
win, but a heart to covet. It was important she came to the decision that she
belonged to both of us on her own. We wanted her all-in, heart and soul. And
luscious body.

So no living with her. Yet.

As for living without her?
Not happening. No fucking way. Just seeing her face light up when she saw me
made my day. My week. Hell, my entire fucking life.

Jillian Murphy was mine. All
mine, and Liam’s too. We’d live with her, claim her, keep her, cherish the fuck
out of her and never spend a night without her beside one of us.

But first, she had to agree.

Women.