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She was aware of both their eyes on her, especially Mac’s. She swore she could feel him watching her, his gaze touching her with incredulity.
“Keiley? Would you look at me?” His voice was deadly calm.
She turned to him slowly. “I’m not ashamed of my life,” she told him fiercely. “I’m not ashamed of what I do in the privacy of my own home. If they want to make it public, then fuck them. I’ll show them how it’s done. ”
“Fuck them?” He blinked back at her in shock.
Keiley drew in a deep breath, crossed her arms over her chest, and glared back at him.
“That’s what I said,” she bit out.
“Where is my wife?” he asked then with an air of a man suddenly confronting a stranger in the body of someone he thought he knew.
Her eyes narrowed.
“Fuck them,” he repeated. “Keiley, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say that. ”
“You don’t see me for hours after these meetings,” she reminded him. “And after plenty of alcohol. ”
His nostrils flared as though he suddenly realized the anger of moments past rather than the surprise his wife was dealing him. His gaze went back to the picture he held in his hand, and Keiley couldn’t help but stare at it. Whoever had taken it had known how to do it. The perfect angle, the perfect shot. She could see the sweat beading over their three bodies, see the twisted expressions of pleasure, her limbs arranged over Mac’s, Jethro behind her, holding onto her, the muscles of his body powerfully defined, his flanks tense, tight as he thrust into her behind as Mac took her below.
She saw it all.
“I’m not ashamed,” she whispered, reaching out to touch the curve of Jethro’s back before her fingertip ran over the point where Mac’s lips touched hers. “But this was private. It was ours—” She blinked back the angry moisture in her eyes before breathing in deeply. “And I want to go dancing. ”
Jethro watched her, his fist clenched at the side of his leg. He forced the fingers of the other to remain relaxed, laying on her thigh, the silk of the dress between them. He felt her pain, her anger. She wasn’t ashamed—she was hurt, she was violated.
He met Mac’s eyes over her head and knew neither of them would let this go unpunished. Others would see the picture, there was no doubt, there was no way to stop it, but they would pay for it. And he knew where to start.
“We’ll go dancing,” Mac told her, his voice low, but Jethro heard the undercurrents of rage, the tightly leashed violence that foretold the hurting someone was going to feel.
He sat back against the door of the truck, watching as Mac lowered his head, his lips touching Keiley’s, comforting her, whispering words Jethro couldn’t hear, but words he echoed in his heart.
He wanted to hold her. He wanted to kiss her soft lips, feel the passion and the promise, the dedication and the exhilarating warmth he had felt only with her.
“My turn. ” He pulled her from Mac’s arms, ignoring her gasp, ignoring Mac’s chuckle.
Hell, he had played into his friend’s schemes from the moment they had first met. He wasn’t fighting this one any longer.
He pulled her over into his lap, right there, parked in front of God and whoever decided to drive by, and took the kiss he was aching for.
He felt her surprise, the shock, then the rich, heated promise of her lips parting for him, her tongue touching his and her arms twining around his neck.
In his arms. Arms that contracted around her, that held her close to his chest, that followed the vow his heart was making.
He would protect her. He and Mac. Against everything, even the wagging tongues of a county that had no idea the hell he could bring down on them.
“You picked a hell of a place to decide to mark her, Jethro,” Mac growled as he watched Jethro consuming Keiley’s kiss.
Seeing it, hearing her pleasure, her whispered moans, was making him crazy. His dick was hard enough to pound nails, and every muscle in his body was tight with the need to find release in the soft body twisting against Jethro’s chest.
And she wanted to go dancing. God help them both. Because he knew how Keiley danced. How her sensuous body swayed to the music, how she tempted with her eyes and her smile and made grown men whimper like babies in need of their momma.
His hand stroked up her bare leg, her knees, heading for the richness between those slender thighs, when he suddenly jerked to awareness.
He gripped her hips instead, pulled her from Jethro’s arms, and set her back in the center of the seat.
“Damn, we’re going to get arrested for lewd acts in public,” he informed them both.
