Ripped (Real, #5)(19)

“Thanks.”

It takes me a while to make sense of the rooms. This is an extended-stay hotel, so the rooms are more like apartments. I hear footsteps behind me—shuffling, then giggles. It sounds like Tit and Lex, making out, but I’m not sure. I don’t bother to turn around. The urge to get away from whoever is behind me hits and on impulse I grab the next doorknob and it opens, so I peer into pure darkness.

Before I realize it’s some sort of closet, the door slams shut behind me and a celebration ensues just outside.

Great.

Fucking perfect.

They’ve locked me in here. Just like Mackenna predicted, I’m being hazed. Damn, I hate him being right.

I press my ear to the door, straining to hear them outside. They’re still out there, and I hear giggles combined with male whispers. Sighing, I look around the closet and wonder if I’m going to sleep in here. It’s a four-by-four space and not long enough to take me stretched out on the floor. So, what, I’ll sleep sitting? All f*cking night? No. When they leave, I’m going to try to unlock this sucker.

Minutes pass until, suddenly, they grow mysteriously quiet. I sense them still out there, waiting for something.

But what?

Then I hear the voice. Even though it’s muffled, I know exactly who it belongs to, because all the little hairs on my arms rise to attention.

Fuck no. Please. Anyone but him.

“What did you f*ckers do?” Mackenna growls under his breath. When nobody answers him, he adds, “What? Is she in there, you pricks?”

“Hell, I don’t know. Why don’t you check and see for yourself, dude?” one of the twins answers.

There’s a cackle.

And then I hear the low, sensual, male sound of Mackenna’s panty-wetting, heart-melting, toe-curling chuckle coming closer. “Seriously? You’re such *s.”

He gets the door to open and there he stands, those eerie silver eyes fixed on me. And they are on me. Like a touch. Doing things to my heartbeat that I don’t like but I can’t stop. There’s a tattoo on his forearm, a ring on his thumb, a thousand leather bracelets on his wrist. His lips curl, and I hate the feeling I get, like a bell chiming in the pit of my stomach. I especially hate the little tingle I get when he stretches out his hand.

“Hey,” he says as he studies me with amusement. “Told you, didn’t I?”

He talks to me good-naturedly, with one sleek eyebrow up high, and I feel a flush creep up my body as I stay rooted to my spot, bravely battling a surge of unwanted lust and old, familiar anger.

I want to get out of here, but I don’t like that he gets to play the hero.

Laughter rings out behind him, and before I can take his offered hand or brush snottily past him—which is what I was actually planning on doing—Lex and Jax shove him and, suddenly, all six feet three of Mackenna is crashing into the closet.

The door slams shut behind him. “Woo! Remember seven minutes in heaven, Kenna?” Lex shouts against the door. “How about seven hours in hell, dude!”

They start humming “Pandora’s Kiss,” and anger rushes through me. I fist my hands at my sides and close my eyes, praying for retribution one day.

Sounding bored as could be, Mackenna replies, “Very funny, douche bags,” and turns to grab the knob just as there’s a loud screeching of heavy furniture being dragged across the floor outside.

“Are they seriously blocking the door?” I ask, trying to sound bored as well, but in actual fact, I’m alarmed. They are seriously locking me in here?!?!?! With Mackenna?!?!?

This is beyond hell. So far beyond I don’t even have a term for it, but the closet already smells of . . . man. Man-wolf, and alcohol, and . . . ugh!

True panic floods me when I hear more screeching. The guys seem to be piling chairs against the door and jamming them against the doorknob. I mean, what the f*ck?

After the screeching, there’s a bang. “Careful, Kenna, she bites!” one of the twins calls out, laughing again.

Mackenna swears under his breath and jiggles the doorknob. Their laughter intensifies, so he stops trying and turns around. The light that seeps in under the door causes attractive shadows to hit his profile as he looks at me. “All right, I’m not giving the *s the amusement they want.”

I raise one eyebrow in an are-you-serious gesture.

He raises his eyebrows in an I’m-deadly-serious gesture.

I bite the inside of my cheek and slide down to sit on the floor, sighing dramatically.

He drops down too, and suddenly it’s so much more cramped in here. He’s so near. His thigh is all against mine. Hard as rock, and it’s having an unwanted effect on me. This is the nearest I’ve had him since . . .

Hell, I don’t know, my brain can’t get past his thigh. Against mine. Being this close to Mackenna, and his f*cking X factor, is pure torture. My female parts are as responsive to him as the rest of the world is. My lungs feel leaden as I try to breathe, but every breath smells of him, and his eyes glow in the dark as he studies my profile in the silence.

The air feels charged between us. I feel awkward, like I want to say something. I guess we’d better start fighting. So I open my mouth.

“Don’t f*cking ruin this,” he says in a voice that’s low and commanding.

Startled, I snap my mouth shut.

But my anger resurfaces when he leans forward and a strange surge of anticipation runs through me. “Come any closer and you’ll find my knee in your balls,” I warn.