MACK
“You fucking idiot,” Mack spun right as the elevators shut on a freaked as hell Calla. He shoved Liam as soon as the bastard caught up with him, slamming him against the wall. “What the fuck were you thinking, dancing with her like that?”
“What was I thinking?” Liam shoved him back and stumbled away from the wall, still glaring. “You were the gobshite dry humping her in the middle of the fecking dance floor.”
Mack got right up in his face again. “And you think coming up and double-teaming her like that wasn’t going to freak her the fuck out?”
If he was honest, he felt like punching himself just as much as he wanted to smack Liam. Why had he asked Calla to dance? He’d only meant to go down to the ballroom to redeem the two drink tickets they’d given everyone doing the mustang makeover.
But then he saw Calla standing there in that bombshell dress beside Mel. Her face had been uncertain, though. She’d crossed her arms awkwardly, looking vulnerable and unsure of herself. So he’d asked her to dance. The smile that lit up her face was bright as the fucking sun.
He shoulda walked away right then and there. He wasn’t anyone’s knight in shining armor. But he’d ignored the voice of reason shouting in the back of his head and taken her arm.
Just like he was ignoring good sense now as he watched Liam look up at the numbers above the elevator doors. The elevator skipped the second floor and stopped at the third. Then it continued up to the fourth and paused again. The hotel was only four stories tall. Calla was either in a room of the third or fourth floor.
Liam must have had the same thought as Mack because he jerked open the door to the stairs right before Mack could reach for it himself. The bastard could run, Mack would give him that. He jackrabbited up the stairs and Mack had to push it to stay on his heels.
“You try the third, I’ll check the fourth,” Liam called over his shoulder as he hit the landing for the third floor and continued up.
Fine with Mack. He jerked open the door to the third floor just in time to see Calla’s back retreating down the hallway. She stopped in front of her door. As Mack got closer he could hear her swearing.
“Son of a bitch, where did I—”
She must have heard Mack’s footsteps because she whipped around to look at him, one hand down the top of her dress. She jerked her keycard out of her bra, then froze. Her cheeks were flushed a pretty pink.
She cringed before turning back around and dropping her forehead to her door like she was defeated. Mack almost reached for her but stopped himself just in time. Fuck, he didn’t want to spook her more than she already was. It was another long moment before she said anything.
“I don’t suppose we can all just forget the last half hour?” Her voice was so quiet, the only reason Mack heard it at all was because he took a step closer in spite of his determination not to make her any more skittish.
A racket behind him had Mack turning just in time to see Liam barreling through the stairwell door. “She wasn’t on the fourth, did you find—” he cut off, obviously seeing Calla. “Oh. Hi.”
“Oh my God,” Calla whispered under her breath, hand going to her eyes. “I’ve never been more embarrassed in my entire life.”
Fuck that. She had no reason to be embarrassed. She was beautiful and sweet. Having her in his arms downstairs had felt like the best thing that had happened to him since he got out of that fucking hellhole where he’d rotted for eight long years.
She’d made him laugh. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed like that.
So he reached for Calla’s elbow and spun her to look at him. Her eyes were wide and if he wasn’t wrong, almost teary. God-fucking-dammit if there was one thing he couldn’t handle, it was seeing a woman cry. He’d watched his mother weeping over one bastard or another his whole life. He always swore he’d never be the kind of man that made women cry.
But here he was. Spreading his shit. Dirtying up a girl who was as poor as Mack had ever been but still hadn’t let it turn her bitter or ugly. Fuck. He shouldn’t have followed her. He shouldn’t have ever touched her.
All these thoughts flashed neon in his brain but he proved yet again exactly how much a shit he was—because none of that stopped him from dropping his lips to hers and stealing the kiss that should have been his earlier.
Her lips were warm and trembling. And soft. So fucking soft. He couldn’t help a low moan as he stepped into her, pulling her body flush against his as he kissed her deep, then deeper still. She was so much soft, warm, sweet woman, he went instantly hard.
When his tongue teased at the seam of her lips, she opened them on a gasp. Mack didn’t hesitate for a second before dipping his tongue inside and kissing her in a way that made his intentions clear.
Because suddenly he had to have her. He felt like a starving man presented with a feast.
When she went pliant in his arms, he felt like roaring in triumph. She wanted to be claimed as much as he wanted to do the claiming.
“Why don’t we take this inside her room?”
Calla jerked back at Liam’s voice like she’d just remembered he was there. Ha. Take that, you Irish bastard.
But then he saw Calla’s face as she looked toward Liam. Like she was stricken.
Mack’s chest tightened. Did she look like that because she was worried about hurting Liam? Or because she wished it was him kissing her instead?
Before Mack could figure out one way or another, Liam was asking, “Where’s your key, beautiful?” and running his hand down her bare arm.
Son of a bitch. Mack would make him regret ever—
But then he realized Calla was trembling at Liam’s touch. From the look of longing on her face, it wasn’t from fear, either.
She felt something for Liam. Mack’s jaw tightened. Fuck. Double fuck. He should leave them to it.
But his insides rebelled even at the thought. And then he saw Liam looking at him, his eyebrows raised in question.
Mack hadn’t missed how Liam had handed Calla over to him earlier on the dance floor. Sharing her. Because Liam had seen the same thing Mack was just now realizing—she wanted both of them.
And Mack wanted her.
Fuck but he wanted her. He hadn’t wanted anything other than revenge in so long he’d forgotten what it could feel like. The feeling was such a revelation that, no matter how much he fucking hated the Irishman, Mack would make sure Calla got what she wanted. Anything she wanted.
Mack nodded to Liam’s inquiring gaze.
“Let’s go in,” Liam said, lifting the keycard Calla had been clutching in a trembling hand and pressing it against the door censor. Calla looked confused for a moment until Liam said, “All of us.”
Calla’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open slightly. But when the door unlocked, she looked back at Liam and then Mack. She pushed the door in and then kept going until she held it open wide. An invitation.
Fuck him. Mack felt it in his chest and his balls—the wanting.
She doesn’t know what she’s inviting in.
Liam stepped right over the threshold, brushing his chest against Calla’s as he passed in a way that was anything but unintentional.
Still, Mack hesitated. Get the fuck out of here. You’re a shit stain and you always will be. She deserves a million times better than either of you horny fucks.
He was about to turn around and leave. He really was.
But then Calla reached over and took his hand. With her other, she reached out to Liam. When she started tugging them inside, Mack let himself be pulled forward.
He didn’t know if he was heading into heaven or hell. But as the door closed behind him, Mack knew there was no other place he’d rather be.