“Dude,” Beck said again. “There is such a thing as privacy.”
Leaving the pair to their argument, she stalked out of the kitchen and down a hallway. The couples who’d migrated this way were pressed against the walls, making out, so no one noticed her. She came to the correct door and prepared to knock, announcing her presence...only to hesitate. If Jessie Kay was totally tee-rashed, the guy was taking advantage of her, and if Brook Lynn gave him any warning, he would stop whatever crime he was committing and hide the evidence. He needed to be caught red-handed.
Then again, if she walked in and interrupted two consenting adults while they were getting “busy,” her corneas would indeed be burned.
What was more important? Her sister or her eyes?
Okay, then. Decision made.
Brook Lynn turned the knob. Or would have, if it hadn’t held steady. Dang it! Locked out.
Well, too bad for Mr. Hand-in-the-Cookie-Jar. A lock wasn’t actually a problem for her. Brook Lynn’s con man of an uncle had taught her how to pick anything with a tumbler. And hustle at pool. And cheat at poker. He’d actually taken her allowance every time she’d lost during a “practice” session.
She backtracked, avoiding the kitchen, and soon came to an office with a Keep Out sign posted on the door. Please. After confiscating two paper clips from the top drawer of the desk, she returned to the bedroom door. A quick insertion and twist...yes!...and she was able to push her way inside.
The lights were on. A man stood at the far edge of the bed, pulling a black T-shirt over his head and oh...wow...wow. She caught a delectable glimpse of olive skin and a delicious eight pack that could only be made from adamantium. A maze of intriguing tattoos she would have liked to study in-depth decorated much of his chest, but unfortunately the material covered him a second later, hiding the visual feast of sexy.
One thing became very clear very fast. West and his supposed most perfect perfection could suck it. There was a new and even juicier slice of beefcake in town.
Beefcake paused when he noticed her, snaring her with the most intense green eyes she’d ever seen, making her shiver. Why? Those were not bedroom eyes; they were far too cold for that. They were frosty, practically arctic...but they were also an invitation to do whatever proved necessary to warm the guy up.
She watched as those beautiful, sensual eyes narrowed.
Mortified to be caught staring, she cleared her throat. “Are you Jase?”
He gave a clipped nod. “I am.”
Only two words, and yet she had trouble tracking the motion of his lips. They’d thinned with displeasure, his tone probably stilted and stinging.
“Who are you?” His gaze swept over her as he ran a hand through his dark hair. The strands stuck out in spikes. “How’d you get in here?”
Never admit to your crimes. Uncle Kurt’s voice reverberated through her head.
Never follow your uncle’s advice, baby girl. And there was her beloved father, just before he’d died.
Never forget lies are poison. Her cherished mother.
All three, now gone. A pang in her chest.
“Maybe you forgot to lock the door?” she suggested. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t an admission, either.
“Maybe I didn’t.” His lips were thinning again.
She shrugged. “Faulty lock? Who’s to know?”
He arched a brow. “Did you come here hoping to be spanked?”
Her heart rate kicked into overdrive, the organ pounding against her ribs, as if she’d just been shot up with enough adrenaline to revive a dead horse. “No, I didn’t, but you’re certainly welcome to try—if you want to have your balls surgically removed from your throat.” Had threats of bodily harm replaced proper meet-and-greets, and she just hadn’t gotten the memo?