As the others filled their plates and settled at a giant picnic table on the back patio, Brea hustled inside and found the powder room. As she finished washing her hands, the doorbell rang. A glance out the big kitchen window proved no one else had heard a thing over the loud music and even louder conversation. Rather than disturb Hunter, Logan, or their wives, she headed to the front door.
When she pulled it open, Brea found a mountain of a man standing on the other side. He towered over her, his shoulders taking up most of the portal. Beefy, inked arms crossed over a midnight-blue shirt, stretched tightly across his imposing chest. He had shorn dark hair, an even closer cropped beard, black eyes that saw inside her soul in an instant, and a scowl that told her she’d better not mess with him. He looked like the devil. He smelled like sex and sin.
Her heart lurched, and she utterly lost her ability to think. “Hi.”
“Hey.”
His eyes didn’t leave her face, but she had the distinct impression he’d already taken in every inch of her from head to toe. Brea couldn’t repress her shudder.
He glanced beyond her shoulder, out the big window in the family room, which overlooked the backyard. “I’m here for the EM party. This Hunter Edgington’s place?”
“Yes.” She stepped back to let him in since she couldn’t seem to find more words.
He shut the door behind him and stared down at her. “You got a name?”
She inched back…though some forbidden urge prompted her to scoot closer. “B-Brea.”
“Yeah?” He stepped into her personal space, following her until she backed into a wall and blinked up at him. “That’s a pretty name.”
“Thank you,” she said automatically. “I like your…” Everything. Each part of him was put together so perfectly, he made her heart beat like a mad, fluttery thing and her stomach tighten.
“My what?” A corner of his lips lifted into something she could almost call a grin.
“Shirt,” she improvised.
Oh, could she sound any more ridiculous?
“Yeah?” He sounded amused.
“It’s, um…a nice shade of blue.”
He smiled, blindsiding her with the transformation of his face from desolate to dazzling.
“Good to know. I like your…” He scanned her up and down, his fathomless eyes traversing her slowly. “Dress. The lace is pretty, like you. Except…”
When he reached for her, one finger of his massive hand outstretched, her thoughts raced wildly. Would he touch her? Kiss her? Undress her? The way his eyes darkened told her all that—and more—had already crossed his mind.
Her heart thudded madly. “Except?”
He didn’t answer with words, simply settled his fingers on her collarbone. The instant he touched her, their connection reverberated through her entire body, jolting and shuddering clear down to her toes. He glided one rough fingertip across her skin. Goose bumps erupted. Tingles spread. She reeled as he slid his digit under the thin strip of white lace draped over her shoulder and gave it a gentle tug.
Brea’s eyes slid shut. She didn’t know what he was doing to her or why, but if he wanted anything from her—anything at all—her answer was yes.
Then suddenly, his touch was gone. “Your strap was twisted.”
He wasn’t making a pass? No. But some forbidden part of her desperately wanted him to.
Embarrassed as all get-out, she sent him what she hoped was a blankly polite smile. “Thank you.”
She expected him to release her then. Instead, he curled his fingers behind her shoulder and cupped it, drawing her closer. She could happily lose herself in his eyes. She ached to. Everything about him made her aware that he was a man…and that she’d never known the touch of one.
“You’re a little thing.”
“You’re huge,” she blurted, then blushed.
“You think?” He sent her a smug grin. “Or have you looked?”
Another rush of heat climbed to her cheeks. Did he mean what she thought? “Um, dinner just started, if you’re hungry…”
“I am. But food can wait.” His big, rough knuckles skimmed her cheek before he tucked a curl behind her ear. She barely managed to resist closing her eyes in pleasure. “Are you a friend of Kata’s or Tara’s?”
“Neither.”
He paused. “Are you dating one of the other guys?”
“I…” She wasn’t sure how to explain her relationship with Cutter.
“Brea!” She turned to find her best friend at the back door, his snarl warning the other man away. “Come here. Now, honey.”
She jumped at the demand in his voice. He would never be so insistent…unless something was wrong. “O-okay.” She faced the big, dark stranger again. “Excuse me.”
For a second, he looked as if he might object. Something in her wanted him to, but he merely stepped back, his jaw set in a hard line.
Brea edged away. As soon as she reached Cutter’s side, her breathing eased. Her nerves bled away. And when he curled a protective arm around her, she felt safe and sheltered.
But he didn’t make her feel alive—not like the other man.
“Are you all right?”
Why was Cutter acting as if the newcomer might unleash terrible savagery on her in the foyer? “Of course.”
He acknowledged her with an impatient nod. “Time to eat. Why don’t you head on outside? I’ll meet you at the buffet table.”
And leave so he could berate the man for doing nothing but staring a little more than was truly polite and straightening her strap?
She shook her head. “I’d rather not go alone.”
While Cutter weighed her words, Brea felt the stranger’s stare all over her. She risked a glance his way. Sure enough, he hadn’t peeled his eyes off her. He seemed especially fixated on Cutter’s arm around her middle.
“Please. I’m famished.” She added a pleading note Cutter had never been able to resist.
“In a minute. Before I go, I’m going to say something you won’t like,
