Mack couldn’t help shifting his pelvis forward and her eyes widened when she felt his hardness through his jeans against her stomach. But they didn’t widen in alarm. Instead, a flare of heat blazed.
That was the last straw. He was only a man for Christ’s sake. Mack lifted his right hand from the counter and he cupped her cheek. He wasn’t delicate about it either. He gripped her graceful jaw and traced his thumb over her bottom lip, tugging it down slightly. If he thought her little breathy noises from earlier were sexy, it was nothing to the way she gasped and leaned in to his touch at this. Jesus, she was responsive.
He’d just decided he needed to spend the next few hours exploring exactly how responsive when suddenly there was a racket outside the back door. Calla’s face swung that direction moments before the door was shoved open and that bloody fucking Irishman’s voice filled the kitchen.
“Not my fault I forgot me fecking keys at the bar. You’re the one who thought a drinking game was a good idea. If you thought I was going to lose to some pansy-arsed American, well I fecking showed ya!”
Liam staggered into the kitchen, followed up by the twins, Tweddle dee and Tweddle fucking dumb.
Before Mack knew it, Calla had jerked away from him and tugged at the bottom of her shirt as the voices quieted. His housemates might be drunk as skunks but they were all brought up short at the sight of the beautiful woman all but in Mack’s arms. A woman he’d been a hairsbreadth away from claiming for the night before these fucknuts stumbled in.
“Who’s that?” one of the twins asked at the same time Liam took a lunging step toward where he and Calla stood.
“Hey, it’s you.” Liam pointed a finger toward her face. “You really aren’t a dude. Huh. When’d you get so pretty?”
Calla had pulled away from Mack, but he still felt it the instant her back went ramrod straight. Her mouth dropped open and she looked horrified.
Mack’s fist was flying toward Liam’s face before he could even think it all the way through. He didn’t know exactly what the fuck the bastard was on about, but it was clear he’d upset Calla.
And Jesus but it was satisfying when his fist connected with Liam’s jaw. He barely registered Calla’s small shriek or the other guys shouting. All he knew was he’d wanted to punch the fucker from almost the moment he’d met him.
Rich bastard parading around, playing at being a cowboy when the rest of them were here to earn a living. It made Mack fucking sick. So when Liam’s head was knocked sideways and he stumbled backward a few steps before falling on his ass, Mack felt only the glow of gratification.
At least until he saw Calla shrink away from him, her hand to her mouth.
He didn’t have more than a moment to register it, though, because the next second Liam was back on his feet and lunging for him.
“Ya cocksucker!” he yelled, fist swinging.
Mack blocked the first blow but when Liam followed up with a mean jab to his ribs, Mack wasn’t fast enough.
And fuck but the bastard could fight, even when he was drunk off his ass. Mack barely had time to recover from the fist to his stomach before Liam swung again. He jerked back but Liam still clipped his jaw.
Which just fucking enraged him. You didn’t survive super max for almost a decade without knowing how to fight, and he couldn’t believe this pansy-assed motherfucker had actually gotten in two hits on him. He could count how many times that had ever happened on one hand. With a roar, he charged Liam and took the bastard to the ground.
Mack was just about to get a choke hold on him when a pissed off voice demanded, “What the fuck is going on here?”
Shit. The boss was here. But even that wasn’t enough to stop him from trying to get the upper hand on the little Irish shit. He almost had him pinned—
Suddenly a huge hand jerked Mack off Liam and tossed him onto his back. Mack scrambled to try to get at Liam until he finally registered a very pissed off Xavier Kent standing over him.
“You want to fucking explain what the fuck you’re doing fighting in my kitchen. I could hear you all the way from the stairwell.”
Mack blinked, the haze of rage starting to clear from his vision. He looked around. The twins had grabbed Liam’s arms and were holding him back. Calla stood behind the kitchen island, arms crossed over her chest, her features showing clear mortification.
“Well?” Xavier demanded, the mottled skin on the burned upper left of his face going all but white in his anger even while the other side reddened.
“Sorry boss,” Mack said, getting to his feet and looking at Xavier. “Won’t happen again.”
“Sure as fuck better not,” Xavier growled. “You two—” He pointed a finger at Liam, who was still on the floor although no longer being held back by Jeremiah and Reece. Next, he pointed at Mack. “—are on KP duty for the next four weeks. And I better not ever have to deal with this shit again.”
With that, the big man turned on his heel and was about to stalk from the room when he seemed to notice Calla.
“Cal.” When Xavier acknowledged her, his voice was still gruff but not angry. “Glad to see you made it here okay.”
She cringed, glancing between Mack and Liam. “Sorry for all this.”
She hadn’t been afraid of him when she’d first seen him but there was a wariness in her eyes now. Dammit. He was usually so good at hiding his monster. Out of all the times to lose it on Liam, it had to be tonight? In front of her? He’d just gotten so pissed when Liam had openly disrespected her. He clenched his jaw all over again just thinking about it.