“Yeah, aren’t they fine?”

She nods. “Especially the Indian.”

I lean down ever closer. “That Indian is mine, and you just pissed me the fuck off.”

Her face whitens and she mumbles, “I wasn’t trying to be rude, I didn’t know . . .”

“Fucking Indian,” I breathe. “Fucking. Indian.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

I lean in closer and bark, “Fucking Indian!”

“I’m sorry!” she cries.

“That man is a lot of things. He’s gorgeous, he’s talented with his body and his mouth, he’s sweet and hard at the same time, but he’s not a fucking Indian.”

“Okay, I get it,” she mumbles.

“I’m very glad to hear that.”

I push back and turn, but not before I hear her mutter, “Stupid Indian bitch.”

Oh, she did not.

I spin, lash out and take her drink, which is bright red with fruit all through it, and I dump it on her perfectly-styled hair. She screams, sliding around the booth like a mad woman.

“Next time I won’t be so kind,” I growl.

Then I turn and head back to our booth, listening to her cries and wails about her dress and her hair.

Bitch.

When I get back, the guys are back and are staring at me.

“What?” I ask, sliding in and taking my drink. “She pissed me off.”

Maddox’s lips quirk, Krypt throws his head back and laughs, and Mack rewards me with a kiss so hard my lips feel like they’re bruised.

“You just get fuckin’ better,” he murmurs into my ear.

“No one calls you a fucking Indian.”

He chuckles softly.

“No one.”

His body shakes.

“Are you laughing at me?”

“Wild.” He nips my earlobe. “Fuckin’ wild.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

We’re dancing, loud and happy. Santana is to my left, shaking what her momma gave her, Ash is to my right, her arms in the air as she squeals happily. I’m in the middle, wiggling my hips, drink in hand. We’re just happily enjoying our dancing when hands go to my hips. I look over to see a tall, attractive man smiling down at me.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he purrs.

I stare up at him, confused. “Do I know you?”

“Just wanted to dance.”

I’m still wiggling, not realizing it. His hands are on my hips still, because I’m in shock.

“Ah, no thanks.”

He grins down at me and I return the grin, but mine is cold. I’m about to tell him right where to go when he’s suddenly launched off me. I spin on a squeal to see Mack holding him by his shirt, his face close.

“Get the fuck away from her.”

Oh, man.

“Just dancin’, dude,” the guy growls.

“She don’t wanna dance.”

“Funny that, ‘cause my hands were on her hips.”

Mack’s eyes flare and I mutter a, “uh-oh” before he lifts the guy and literally throws him across the room. My mouth drops open as the man skitters through crowds of people before crashing into a table. Holy shit, I had no idea Mack was so strong. He turns to me, but the man is up and charging towards him.

Not good.

“Mack,” I cry.

He spins just as the man reaches him, but he’s not quick enough, and it earns him a fist to his mouth. Mack takes two steps back, blood leaking from his lip. His eyes go from angry to furious and he lifts his fist, hitting the guy four straight times. The guy’s nose splits and he screams, then Mack proceeds to lift him once more and launch him back across the room.

My God.

Bouncers are closing in, and Mack doesn’t waste time. He drops his shoulder to my belly, lifts me up, and disappears in the opposite direction. He carries me through the crowds of watching people and through the back door. The bikes are around the back, and he stops at his, dropping me to my feet. It’s quiet out here, and there’s no one around. I open my mouth to speak, but Mack gets in first.

“You like bein’ a dick tease?”

Oh, I don’t think so.

“Excuse me?” I snap.

“I saw him there, Jaylah. Hands on you, you grinnin’ up at him.”

“I was about to give him a smart remark!”

“When you’re in my bed,” he growls leaning in close, “you’re mine.”

“Last time I checked, we’re fuck buddies, and that doesn’t include all this possessive shit. Don’t fool me for other stupid, brain-dead girls, Mack. I’m not thinking this is something it isn’t; I’m not waiting around forever for you to get your head out of your ass. I’m here until the money is paid back, then we’re done.”

“Wrong.”

“Right.”

His fingers tangle into my hair and he pushes me against his bike. It’s warm there from earlier, and I gasp at the heat against my legs.

“You’re in my bed. You’re mine.”

“No, Mack.”

“Fuck it, don’t push me.”

“Push you?” I laugh. “You’re the one who is choosing to live like a caveman, taking girls home over your shoulder, fucking them and disposing of them.”

“Cavemen didn’t do that.”

Argh.

“Stop it. We’re fuck buddies. Fuck. Buddies. That does not give you the right to throw me over your shoulder, carry me out and demand that I’m yours. You want me to be yours, Miakoda, then make me yours, otherwise all we’re doing here is fucking.”