My stomach tightens. Keith has a good three inches on Caine, and he went to the gym religiously when we were married. He’s also angrier than I’ve ever seen him.

“Ca—” I start, wanting to de-escalate the moment.

Shane squeezes my hip. He hasn’t relaxed, keeping me tucked against his side. Voice low and only for me, he murmurs, “Don’t. Let Caine have some fun.”

Fun?

Caine looks at Margot, who’s now standing beside me. “The carpet tripped you up, didn’t it, gorgeous?”

Margot scowls at “gorgeous,” but nods. “So sorry, I’m clumsy sometimes.”

When Caine smiles at Keith, I stop worrying Keith might hurt him. There’s something in his eyes that makes me think he wants Keith to swing on him, that it might be the highlight of his night.

“See?” he says. “Just an accident. You wouldn’t cuss a lady out over an accident; that would be a real bad look.”

“You people are fucking—”

“Language,” Caine interrupts, lightly squeezing the hand still resting on Keith’s shoulder.

Ignoring him, Keith shrugs Caine off.

Shane tenses beside me, but I tug on his jacket. “No. Let him go.”

Straightening his tie, Keith stretches himself up to every inch of his six-foot-four-inch frame and gives me a withering look. I steel myself for him to get the last word, but he doesn’t get the chance.

“Walk. Away.” Shane doesn’t speak, he snarls. “While you still can.” His words are in a register so low that if he were talking to me, I’d be terrified. But aimed at Keith, that voice has me wondering how quickly we can get everyone else out, because there’s a table that looks ready to have me bent over it.

Keith’s eyes narrow, and he squares back up toward Shane. “Is that a threat?”

Damnit.

I don’t want to spend tonight bailing Shane out of jail when I could be getting railed.

Again, Caine cuts the tension between Shane and Keith, sounding like he’s happy to be here. “Of course it isn’t. He’s giving you solid advice. Killer over here might trip and accidentally roundhouse you in the head if you stay too long.” A glance shows he has an arm draped across Margot’s shoulders—she’s clearly “killer.” She’s wearing the expression of a cat that hasn’t decided if it’s going to purr or scratch, and if she had a tail, it would be twitching. Still, she’s leaning into him the tiniest bit, and I’ve witnessed them interact enough to know if she told him not to touch her, he wouldn’t.

Interesting.

Keith’s weighing his options.

Shane’s voice is deadly when he speaks. “You’re done. Go.”

“Fine. But consider this my notice: I fucking quit.” Keith spits the words as if they hold more consequence than they do.

“Wonderful.” Shane’s I’m barely restraining myself from killing you voice still has me squeezing my thighs together. My pussy is ready to escort everyone out.

This way, folks, watch your step. Move it or lose it.

With a last, hateful look, and something that sounds like fucking prick muttered under his breath, Keith leaves.

Finally.

Shane’s bark of laughter at Keith’s closing insult blends with the slamming of the door. He still radiates tension, though; I grab his hand and squeeze.

Margot side-eyes us, then shrugs Caine’s arm off her shoulders. “Well, I could use another drink.” She turns to leave, sighing as she beckons him. “Come on, keep me company.”

He grins, falling into step beside her. “Want to go accidentally key Keith’s car?”

“What about accidentally cutting his brake lines?” she retorts, giving Shane and me a little wave.

“Thank you,” I call as they head toward the door. “Please don’t get arrested.” Next time she’s at the house, I’m finding out where she learned how to throw a punch like that.

Caine looks back at us over his shoulder. “I’ll keep her out of trouble.”

Unlikely. If she decided to torch this place, I’m pretty sure he’d find her a flamethrower. The second the door clicks shut behind them, one all-consuming need pushes everything else out of my head, the reason I came into this room in the first place.

Shane.

THIRTY-THREE Shane

The moment Caine and Margot are gone, I spin Claire to face me. My hands skim her arms, waist, and hips as my eyes take their own inventory. “Are you all right? Tell me, please.”

Fear that he’s hurt her, physically or emotionally, and she’s hiding it, has me examining every loose curl, every thread on her dress. She leans into my touch, pouting when I step back to give her a final once-over.

“I’m good. I am.” Reaching for me, she cups my jaw in her palm, tracing her thumb across my cheek. It’s soothing, and I lean into her touch. Guilt blooms. I should be the one comforting her right now. Pulling her to my chest, I hug her tight. Burying my face in her neck, I murmur, “Are you sure?”

My breath hits her throat, and she shivers. “I’m okay, swear. It was just so weird. What an absolutely creepy thing to do.”

Rubbing my hands up and down her back, I hold her closer. She’s calmer than I am right now. Adrenaline and anger are threatening to take over. I want to go find Keith again. I want to fight. I want to know exactly what happened. I want—

Claire’s hands wrap around the back of my head, angling my face down. Her lips are soft on mine, but her kiss is hard and demanding. Thrusting my tongue into her mouth makes her groan and nip my bottom lip. Digging my fingers into her hips, I drag her body along mine, realizing my cock is rock hard when a wave of need fills me at the friction. It’s all I can do not to slip my hands into the front of her dress and tease her nipples until she’s begging me to take them in my mouth. Building in intensity, the kiss is a fire starter, the kind that won’t stop until there’s nothing left to burn. I’m going to end up fucking her right here in this conference room if I don’t check myself, and that can’t be what she needs right now.

Pulling back from her mouth is agony. My voice is raw, brittle. “I need a moment. I feel like I’m going to lose control.”

Her eyes blaze, and I realize she’s wound as tightly as I am. “I want you to. Please, Shane.”

There’s no thinking. Only moving. I’m across the room and locking the door, undoing my belt as I go. Then I’m back where I belong, reaching for Claire, a ragged exhale breaking free from my chest. Silky hair tangles between my fingers before I know what I’m doing, my other hand cradling her throat as I consume her. Our embrace is more collision than kiss.

There’s something inside my chest, clawing its way out, slicing through muscle and cracking bones. It hurts; it hurts in a horrible, hungry way. I have to make it stop. I know Claire will make it stop. The knowing is innate, a part of me driven by instinct instead of conscious thought. Whatever is inside me was roused by her absence, and only her presence can calm it. Nothing matters but getting closer to her, getting inside her.

I pull back long enough to growl, “Need you.” Whatever she sees on my face makes her eyes flare brighter. She’s kissing me again, all teeth and tongue, her hands stripping my jacket.

Bucking her hips against my throbbing cock, she grinds on me. If I don’t stop her, she’s going to take control. I love that, but right now, I need to fuck her. Tables are scattered haphazardly throughout the room. Good. I want her hard and fast, and this is the kind of carpet that would give her rug burns.

Without warning, I haul her to the closest table, spinning her. Pressing her over it, I thrust against her ass, my body unwilling to accept the fact that there are layers of clothing between us. Whether she suspected we’d end up here or can simply feel how close I am to losing my fucking mind, she goes eagerly. Yanking her dress up, I’m momentarily stalled. Light brown slippery fabric covers her incredible ass. There’s a small slit in the material, offering me a glimpse of the cunt I’m desperate to sink into. It’s one of those smoothing-shrinking-slimming outfits, and I make a mental note to discuss this with her later. An ass like hers should not be smothered unless I’m the one smothering it. Ripping the offensive fabric down, I groan. She’s bare underneath, nothing hiding her from my view.