Megan stood in the doorway.

She was a mess.

Her hair stood in disarray, her dress was crumpled. Tears streaked down her scarlet cheeks and her gaze was wild, a mixture of horror, confusion and despair.

“Alex…” His name was a guttural moan.

He bolted off the chair. His knees jerked as he straightened. Warning prickles tapped at his spine. What the…

She launched herself at him, her words tumbling from her mouth as she threw her arms around him. “Alex. I’m so sorry. God, so sorry. I didn’t mean for… Please, you have to know I love you. Have to believe it. I do, I love you.”

Before he had a chance to answer, she kissed him. Her lips begged his for a response, pleaded for his forgiveness. For what?

He stood immobile, his arms suspended in the air. Did he hold her, hug her? Did he kiss her back?

God, how could he not?

“I love you, Al. I swear.” Her mouth was frenetic.

He couldn’t help himself. He kissed her, drowned in the pleasure her mouth evoked, even as her apology worried the back of his mind. He held her waist, pulling her closer. Her skin was hot to the touch, burning, and her nipples were hard points against his chest. This was Megan at her most aroused. A woman unable to step away from the spiral of hunger that whirled within her. A woman who wanted and needed and desired. This was a Megan he recognized. A woman half-sated sexually and half-mad with need.

The half-mad with need he could deal with, he could resolve. The sexual satiation? It made him want to fucking murder someone.

“No!”

The roar came from behind Megan. She twirled around in his arms.

“You don’t get to do that with him.” Des’s protest bellowed through the room. “Not after what you just did with me.”

“Des.” Megan’s cry ripped through Alex’s heart. She pulled away from him and stepped into the other man’s embrace.

Des’s fury and Megan’s response to it rendered Alex momentarily immobile. Shaken, he gawked as Des crushed his lips over Megan’s. Even more astounding was Megan’s response. She gave an animalistic moan and kissed him right back.

Holy fuck, this is not happening.

Yes, it was. The woman he loved kissed the man she loved.

Fuck. Fuck, double fuck and cluster fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Alex acted on instinct. He wound his arms around Megan’s waist and tugged her away from Des, pulling her across the room, her back plastered to his front. She went with him willingly.

Des glowered at him.

“Fuck you,” Alex spat at him and spun Megan around. “You. Are. Mine!” That was all he said before he claimed her back, kissing her so thoroughly she couldn’t possibly doubt his words.

“I am. I’m yours.” Megan’s hands were on his back, shoving his T-shirt up. Her fingers clawed at his flesh. He’d have scratch marks there tomorrow, but he didn’t give a shit. Her hands belonged on his body, his flesh. Not Des’s.

He kissed her harder, and she clutched him tighter, digging her nails in deeper.

She tore at his shirt. “Off,” she demanded. “Get it off.”

This was Megan at her sexual peak. She was hunger and lust all wrapped up in one, and Alex would never, could never, deny her.

He ripped off the offending material.

The action cost him. By the time his shirt landed on the floor, Megan was gone. She’d stepped freely back into Des’s arms and was kissing him, groaning into the fucker’s mouth. Buttons flew across the room as she ripped at his shirt.

Bastard.