And the idea of Fallon in a blue—or red—tailored dress with an American flag pinned to her was pretty funny, bless her heart.

I stepped through the sliding glass doors, hearing “She’s Crafty” by the Beastie Boys fill the late afternoon air, and it made me smile finally. It wasn’t as crowded as many of Madoc’s parties, but there were a good thirty people out here. Most of them dressed in swim shorts and bikinis, while I still wore my jeans and shirt from the Loop.

Walking up to Ben, I put my hand on his bare back, but before he even had a chance to turn around, I felt that familiar awareness that always made the hair on my arms stand up when Jared was around.

Ben turned and flashed me a wide smile, but as he leaned in to kiss my cheek, I glanced over his shoulder, unable to not look.

But Jared wasn’t here. I flitted my eyes around, scanning the party, but I didn’t see him anywhere.

It was some weird sixth sense I had, and although it couldn’t be explained, I always knew when he was close. Could’ve been the way my neck heated up or my skin vibrated under the surface, or maybe it was just because I expected him to be there, but as soon as I felt him, that’s all I was aware of.

Couples caroused and swimmers splashed around, but as I continued to look around, I didn’t find him.

He had to be here, though. His assistant, Pasha, was pouring a beer from the keg. I had spotted her purple hair.

“Are you okay?” Ben pulled back, one hand holding my waist and the other holding a plate of food.

“Yeah,” I rasped, reeling myself back in. “I’m good. I just . . .” I sucked in a slow breath, trying to shake off my nerves as I pointed my thumb behind me. “I’m just going to run down to the storage and get Madoc some more bottles that he asked for, okay? I’ll be right back.”

Giving Ben a quick peck on the cheek, I turned around and speed walked for the house before he saw the lie in my eyes.

Of course, Madoc hadn’t asked for more liquor from his dad’s storage, but I needed a minute away. Veering around the few people in the kitchen and the island of food, I swung the basement door open and jogged down the stairs.

The basement was empty, as early in the party everyone usually socialized together before the women allowed their boyfriends—and husbands—to disappear down to Madoc’s game room. The pool table, the skate ramp, and the leather couches all sat unused as I steered myself down the hallway and into the finished bathroom across from the storage room.

“God, baby,” a man’s rough whisper caught my ears just as I was escaping into the bathroom. “I can’t keep my hands off you. Why do you do this to me, huh?”

His muffled voice was accompanied by shuffles and loud breathing.

There was giggling, followed by a girl’s voice saying, “I don’t do anything, Mr. Trent. Promise.”

My eyes flared, and my stomach knotted. Mr. Trent.

I heard fabric rip, and the woman sucked in a breath.

Clenching my jaw, I dropped my hand from the door handle and inched toward the storage room door, which was ajar.

“Spread your legs for me,” he ordered, sounding strained.

I stopped and listened, afraid to hear but afraid not to.

“Come on,” he urged, his voice getting firmer. “Wider. Show me how much you want it.”

Oh, my God.

That wasn’t Jared. It couldn’t be. But the voice was raspy, and I couldn’t tell for sure.

What the hell?

I put my hand on the door to steady myself.

“Does that hurt?” He sounded amused.

“Yes,” she gasped. “I’m spread so wide for you, baby.”

“Do you love it?” he taunted, and I heard a zipper.

“Yes,” she moaned. “Oh, God. Please. Fuck me!” Her cry carried into the hall, and my heart was racing.

Was that Juliet’s voice?

“I love you,” he said, and then let out a low growl as she sucked in a breath.

“Oh, Jax!” the girl cried out, and I immediately let out a long breath.

Jax. Oh, thank God.

Not Jared. Just Jared’s brother. Also a Mr. Trent. Okay. I felt better now.

Although why was Juliet calling her boyfriend “Mr. Trent”?

I shook my head, laughing to myself. Kinky kids.

I turned around, taking a step, but I immediately halted. Jared stood right behind me with his arms folded over his chest. He leaned against the opposite wall and seemed completely oblivious to Jax and Juliet. His eyes were on me only.

A rush of hot anger tensed my limbs, and I steeled myself for whatever he had coming.

“How long’s it been?” He jerked his chin, referring to what was happening in the storage room. “How long since you lost control like that?”

It was a rhetorical question. Maybe he actually wanted an answer, but I’d never give him one. I stood there, letting him see me strong and calm. His gaze stayed locked with mine before falling slowly down my body, and I suddenly felt very naked.

I was dressed more than most of the people here, but my faded and ripped jeans were skintight, and my flowing black tank top was nearly backless, held only by the fragile spaghetti straps. And since the top flattered my form more without a bra, I wasn’t wearing one.

I felt my nipples harden against the fabric, and I knew the moment he noticed it, too.

Jared’s eyes heated with hunger, and his biceps stretched the short sleeves of his black T-shirt.

You may never know what Jared was thinking, but you almost always knew what he was feeling. He was as subtle as a bomb when he was turned on.