Zach takes a swig of his beer. “The girl's practically climbing into his lap.”
Kai diverts her attention when Henneman stiffens. Same reaction as when I got too close. But the way he looks at Kai—soft, grateful. It’s like Kai's the one who makes him feel safe.
Are they together? Is that who was on the phone when he jerked off?
I take a long pull of my beer, setting it down hard.
Viktor leans back, chuckling. “Are you into your husband?”
“No.” The word comes out sharp enough to cut. “And told you more than once to stop fucking calling him that. Next time, I’ll break your nose.”
Zach crosses his arms over his chest. “What’s your problem?”
“Kai Lysaith.”
He continues to stare, not saying a word.
I lean back in my chair. “If he and Henneman are together, this shit's going to blow up in my face.”
Zach leans forward, elbows on the table. “Don't keep secrets again. We would've looked into Henneman, found out if that's true. But we’ve never seen him with anyone. He's scared of his own shadow most days.”
It's more than fear. Something happened to him. His reactions, the panic, the way he shattered when I got too close. It’s too much like Reed after Buckland.
Viktor nearly spits out his beer, and I turn my head to see what’s got his attention.
Henneman.
He’s climbing up onto the fucking bar.
The music shifts to something with a heavier beat, bass thrumming through the floor. And he moves. Not like the scared teammate who shrinks in on himself, but like someone else entirely.
His hips roll with the rhythm, hands sliding down his chest. My pulse picks up, everything inside coils tight.
He spins, drops low, then straightens with a roll of his back.
I'm rock hard in seconds.
This isnothappening.
Not for him.
The entire bar's watching now, girls and guys whistling. His black T-shirt rides up, his abs catching the lights. That V-line disappears into his jeans.
Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.
Every pulse makes my dick throb harder. I grab my beer and press the cold bottle between my thighs under the table.
Doesn't help.
Viktor whistles long and low. “Damn. Didn't know he could move like that.”
“Neither did I.”
I lift the bottle to my lips and gulp down whatever’s left, my eyes glued to Henneman. Does he move like that in bed?
NO!
I slam the bottle onto the table and shove my chair back so hard it scrapes across the floor. I need to move, to do something.
