Micah jogged out a few seconds later and slid into the passenger side. Gray put it in reverse, and they headed out in silence. It didn’t last long, however.

“You going to tell me what went on?”

Gray stared straight ahead, his knuckles white against the steering wheel. “No.”

Micah grunted. “C’mon man. I’ll find out later anyway.”

Gray glared over at him. “I imagine if Faith wanted you to know her business she would have confided in you already.”

Micah returned his glare. “I don’t recall her confiding in you, Mr. Barge-into-the-Place-and-Haul-Her-Out-over-Your-Shoulder.”

Gray sighed. Fucker had a point as much as it pained him to admit it.

“Look, dude, I just need to know if there’s anyone whose ass I need to go kick. Is she okay?”

Some of Gray’s irritation diminished at the concern he heard in Micah’s voice. “She’s fine,” Gray said. “I stepped in before anything really happened.”

Micah shook his head. “I don’t know what’s gotten into that girl. The House isn’t a place I would have ever expected her to even know about much less go visit.”

Gray was beginning to wonder just how much Micah or any of the other guys at Malone’s, including Pop, knew about her. She was a contradiction, that was for sure. The face of an angel, sweet, innocent, soft and so very feminine. But she had a body that would tempt a man to sin. Wasn’t that what all men wanted? A beautiful, demure woman in public and a sexy firebrand in private?

He wasn’t going to speculate about what other men wanted, but he knew that scenario certainly did it for him.

“You’re way too quiet, man,” Micah spoke up. “What the hell happened tonight?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” Gray said honestly.

Silence stretched between them again. Gray caught Micah staring at him from time to time. It was only a matter of time before, like Pop, Micah started the subtle (or not so subtle) prying.

“So what’s between you and Faith?” Micah asked casually, though Gray could hear the keen interest in his voice.

Gray clenched his teeth then blew out a breath around them. “There’s nothing between us.”

“Bullshit.”

Gray looked sideways at him and frowned.

“Look, dude, I’m sure you’ve already gotten the ‘speech’ from Pop. He gives it to everyone where Faith is concerned. Don’t expect to get one from me. Faith is a big girl. Pop, well, I like the old fart, but he treats her like a piece of glass. He’s way too over-protective of her, and I understand, given the shit she’s gone through in her life, but she’s tough. Much tougher than Pop gives her credit for. While I’m not crazy about her fucking around at a place like The House, I’m sure she’s very capable of choosing the guy she gets involved with.”

“Thanks for your support,” Gray said dryly.

Micah shrugged. “I just wondered, that’s all. Faith…well she’s hot. A better girl you won’t find. I’d think you were a fucking pussy if you weren’t attracted to her at least on some level.”

“Can we stop with all the touchy-feely shit?” Gray muttered. “You sound like a damn woman.”

Micah chuckled. “Hey, I just wanted to know if you’d staked a claim on Faith, because if you aren’t interested in her, I might ask her out.”

“Over my fucking dead body,” Gray growled. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew he’d been had.

Micah bent over laughing, looked up at Gray then dissolved into laughter again.

“Fuck you and the horse you rode in on.”

“Don’t you love it when a woman manages to twist you all up in knots?” Micah said around a bubble of laughter.

Gray briefly closed his eyes, as long as he could get away with as they zipped down the highway. This was a fucking mess. And he so wasn’t in the mood for Micah’s obnoxious joking.

Thank God it was Friday. He glanced at his watch. Or Saturday morning. He wouldn’t have to face Faith until Monday. But even then, he wasn’t sure how the hell he was supposed to look her in the eye.

“I’m so fucked,” he muttered.

Beside him Micah chuckled. Gray shot him another dirty look, but Micah regarded him innocently, a smug look on his face.

“Sure you don’t want to tell me what all went on in there?” Micah asked.

“Nosy bastard.”

“Can’t blame a guy for trying,” Micah said with a shrug. “Guess it’s too bad I didn’t choose to hang out at The House tonight.”

“Yeah, that would have gone over real well,” Gray said sourly. “I’m sure Faith would have been real happy to see you there.”

Micah grinned evilly. “No happier than I imagine she was to see you.”

“Just shut up,” Gray mumbled. “Let it die already. I’m going to have to hope Faith has no more desire to rehash everything than I do.”

CHAPTER 20

What kind of twisted, weird-ass woman did it make her that when she got up the next morning, the fact that she could feel the slight ache in her ass made her all quivery inside?

Faith rolled out of bed and flexed her muscles experimentally as she stood and stretched. A warm tingle buzzed up her midsection at the memory of the night before. Gray commanding her body, making her come.

She remembered every swat to her ass, how it made her feel, the delicious balance between pain and pleasure. But more than that, and something she was starting to realize, was that her reaction wasn’t just to the stimuli, but to Gray. Otherwise, Brent would have been able to get her off just as quickly.

She yawned and trudged to her bathroom where she turned on the shower, full blast and blistering hot. Ten minutes later, she walked out of the bathroom, towel on her head and dressed in a T-shirt and gym shorts.

As she puttered around her kitchen, she gave thought to her most pressing dilemma: Gray.

If she lived to be a hundred, she’d never understand men. Women were supposed to be the enigmas, but men? Moody, brooding bastards, the lot of them. A woman with PMS had nothing on a man. Where women might get hormonal once a month, men suffered their own brand of PMS on a daily basis.

He wanted her. She could see it in his eyes, in his body language. He practically screamed possession. It made her shiver just to think about all that testosterone flowing behind those big muscles.

So what was his problem? Why did he shove her away like she was Satan’s spawn right after they went at it in the hallway of The House?

She poured herself a glass of orange juice and padded into the living room, where she flopped on the couch. She glanced at the TV remote for all of three seconds before twisting her lips and redirecting her gaze.

She wasn’t in the mood for television. What she was in the mood to do was brood and mull. Figure out this thing between her and Gray.

His directive to stay away from The House should have pissed her off, but she shrugged it off. He was right. And she had no intention of ever going back. Why should she, when she’d found exactly what she wanted, and it wasn’t anything The House offered?

No, she was pretty certain she knew precisely what it was she wanted now. It just happened to come in the form of a six-foot-plus surly male. A man she was dying to taste again. Take in her mouth. In her body.

Goose bumps prickled over her arms, and she closed her eyes to relish the memory of his hands on her body, his fingers between her legs.

Finally. Finally she’d found a man who was forceful. Strong. Unapologetic. A man who didn’t ask. Who took what he wanted.

Now she just had to figure out how to reel him in.

She started when a knock sounded at her door. She hurriedly leaned forward to set her glass down on the coffee table and lurched to her feet.

On the way to the door, she found herself holding her breath, hoping it was Gray. But when she opened it, it wasn’t Gray standing there. It was Damon. Damon from the sex club.

He smiled and held up his hand where the straps of her shoes dangled from his fingertips.