It felt like flames sinking into her flesh, burning her alive.
“I can’t—” She jerked as Mac’s hand moved, his fingers skimming over her flesh, lifting the t-shirt along her midriff as Jethro continued to stare down at her.
“Say no,” Jethro whispered then. “Just say no, and it all goes away, Keiley.”
She shook her head roughly, feeling Mac’s free hand caressing up her arm, her shoulder, until it wrapped over her collarbone and his palm cupped her cheek.
“Do you want it to go away, Kei?” He nipped at her earlobe as she shuddered in his grasp.
“It can go away very easily sweetheart,” Jethro whispered then. “It can go away, or it can turn to this.”
She whimpered as his head lowered. He was going to kiss her. Sweet God, she was standing in her husband’s grip. He was watching. Watching as another man bent to his, his lips parting, his lashes lowering sensually.
Mac’s hand drifted lower to the button of her jeans, flicking it open as Jethro’s lips touched hers. She stood still, panting for air, staring into his eyes as the kiss sent quaking shudders racing through her.
Jethro wasn’t taking her kiss. His lips were asking for her kiss, but his gaze was demanding it.
The band of her jeans loosened.
“What did I say about touching?” Mac whispered at her ear then. “Every part of your body caressed at once?”
His hands slid from the loosened band up beneath her t-shirt to her swollen, sensitive br**sts. But Jethro’s hands were at her h*ps then, his fingers lowering the zipper of the low-rise jeans.
The band was too low, she thought inanely. Once the zipper had completely lowered—
Keiley whimpered as Jethro’s tongue licked at her lips and his hands peeled back the edges of her jeans.
“No!”
Where she found the strength to tear away, she wasn’t certain. The impulse slammed inside her as a wave of pleasure nearly took her to her knees and a millisecond later she was backing away from them, shaking her head, fighting to breathe.
“No,” she snapped again, staring at Mac and seeing a stranger.
A stranger who stared at her with her husband’s eyes. Eyes heavy with arousal, love, and regret.
“Good night, Jethro,” Mac said as he began to walk toward her. “We’ll see you in the morning.”
The intent was there in his face. He was a conqueror. He was the ravisher. His expression assured her that it didn’t matter whether Jethro joined them or not—tonight he would have his wife.
“You think you just can just give another man leave to touch me and then drag me to bed?” Keiley stared back at him in outrage. “Have you taken leave of your senses, Mac?”
Had she taken leave of hers? Because this new side of Mac was making her hotter than hell.
“Pretty much,” he announced a second before he stepped to her, picked her up, and tossed her over his shoulder before leaving the room
Her last glimpse of Jethro was the wicked amusement glittering in his eyes a second before Mac headed up the stairs.
“You are so going to get your ass kicked,” she snarled as she hung over his shoulder.
“Probably.”
“I mean it, Mac. This is not happening.”
“Of course it is,” he grunted. “Stop deluding yourself. And stop pretending you’re not hotter than hell. I’m amazed your jeans aren’t damp from the juices spilling from your pu**y.”
“Asshole,” she snarled.
Unfortunately, he was right in one respect. She was hotter than hell. But wrong in the other. She believed her jeans just might be damp after all.