Meaning he wouldn’t have opened the door mostly naked if he’d known it was her? “Kelli?” She had a hard time keeping her gaze off his body.
“Yeah, she’s Avril’s friend and...” He looked appalled at himself, which fried his temper and left him brewing like a thundercloud—a thundercloud that had just been wallowing in carnal activity. “What are you doing here?”
At almost the same time, she asked, “Kelli and Avril?”
The door opened behind him and the redhead, grinning at her wickedly, asked, “Is she joining us or not?”
Merissa stumbled back.
Together, she and Armie both said, “Not.”
The woman wore only Armie’s shirt with mile-high strappy sandals. Pouting, she reached around him for his fly, her hand dipping inside the open waistband. “Then where’s Kelli?”
Armie caught her wrist and held her hand higher—still against his bare, taut skin.
Merissa’s heart pounded in sick resentment. She licked her dry lips and started to come up with any excuse to leave. “So I, ah—”
From behind her, a woman said, “Here I am!”
She turned. A blonde. With more boob showing than she had covered. She carried a bottle of wine in one hand, her sandals in the other, and she looked ready to...party.
Eyes narrowed, jaw set, Armie pushed the door open and said to the women, “Wait inside. I’ll be there in a minute.”
The two women greeted each other with a lingering kiss. Armie watched without interrupting, and when they finally got out of the way, he pulled the door closed again.
Rissy had a difficult time breathing. Okay, sure, she’d heard about Armie’s excesses just as she’d heard about his aversion to nice women. Maybe nice meant anyone who wouldn’t accommodate his overblown sexual appetite.
For far too long he stared at the floor, then finally turned to her. “Why are you here?”
She no longer remembered her excuse. “You...? They...?”
He worked his jaw. “It’s a threesome. No big deal. Don’t faint.”
Armie flaunted the fact that he was a sexual hedonist—and so many women loved that about him.
She wasn’t one of them.
Finally finding her voice, she said, “I make no guarantees.”
Eying her, he took a step forward. “Shit. You do look pale.”
With embarrassment! “I can’t believe you—”
Through the door, one woman yelled in a singsong voice, “Hurry up, Armie, or we’ll start without you!”
Armie rubbed his mouth, then dropped his hand. “There you go. Seems I’m needed inside, so how about you get to the reason for this little unexpected visit.”
No. This was a big mistake; no reason to make it worse with lame excuses. “Never mind.” Hugging herself to ward off the chill of humiliation, she turned to go.
Armie caught her upper arm. “Oh, no, you don’t.” Very close behind her ear, he growled, “Don’t leave me in suspense.”
She felt the heat of his bare torso all along her back. Her height of five-eleven put him only an inch taller. But where she was thin, he had the bulk and muscle of a fighter.
When she remained mute, he didn’t step away. He might have even smelled her hair.
“You shock me,” she admitted in a mere breath of sound.
“Back atcha.”
Merissa freed herself and turned to face him. “Is that a joke?”
Shaking his head, he tracked his gaze over her. Unlike his lady friends, she was fully dressed in jeans and a sleeveless baby-blue blouse.
Almost unwillingly, he grated, “Every f**king time I see you.”
Her jaw loosened. “My God! You have two women waiting inside for you—”
“Probably not waiting anymore.” His smile taunted her. “They’re the impatient sort.”
“—and still you flirt with me?”
His bare shoulders bunched. “I wasn’t.”
Oh. Her confidence suffered, but she faked it, flipping back her long hair and staring him in the eyes. “I thought—”
One big stride brought him chest to br**sts with her. He radiated hot anger—and so much more. “You came to me, little girl.”
She didn’t quail, not from Armie. In a whisper, she asked, “Why are you mad?”
His gaze searched hers, and he jerked away with a curse, turning from her, his hands on his hips, his head dropped forward. Muscles twitched, locked. His chest repeatedly rose with slow, deep breaths.
Merissa stared at his long back, his sun-darkened skin in appealing contrast to his fair hair. The deep furrow of his spine bisected all that firm muscle and without even thinking about it, she followed it down to the paler skin of his taut backside displayed by the loosened, drooping jeans.
Catching herself, she pulled her gaze back up to the tattoo of a winged heart wrapped in barbed wire that rested between his shoulder blades. No color. Just stark black and...sad.
The tats on his arms were different—simple, colorful tribal designs that backed up his badass rep. She doubted they meant anything. But that heart...
He rubbed the back of his neck and muscles shifted everywhere, igniting a secret heat inside her.
“I’m sorry for dropping in,” she said softly.
Over his shoulder, he scowled at her, then slowly faced her again.
“I was looking for Cannon, but obviously he’s not here.” She couldn’t imagine her discriminating brother ever participating in a ménage à trois. If he did, no one would ever know about it—and it definitely wouldn’t be with such extroverted women who might kiss and tell.