Who was this girl flaunting herself and what had she done with his composed and reserved Kitty-Kat?
The tight leather pants she wore molded to her sexy curves and her perfect ass—the same luscious ass she was currently putting on display as she bent over and ran a hand up her leg in a slow, sultry caress as she straightened once again. When she lifted her smoky gaze, Mason could have sworn that she was looking directly at him with those dark, come-hither eyes. Teasing him. Taunting him. Tormenting him with what he couldn’t have. Fuck.
Or maybe his wild imagination was just playing tricks on him, because she’d never, ever given him any indication that she wanted to get down and dirty with him. Then again, this racy performance could be for another man entirely, and why did that thought make his stomach feel as though he’d just swallowed a dozen burning coals?
Hips gyrating to the music, she continued to skim those mesmerizing hands over her stomach and cupped her breasts over the corset top that was held together with just the thin ties that laced up the front. So fucking naughty. Her lips parted, and a hint of a smile played across her sinful mouth.
A mouth he suddenly wanted to do filthy, wicked things to. Right now.
Another ovation of rambunctious cheers attracted even more male attention to Katrina. Some guy offered her up a shot, and she took the glass and tossed back the liquor in one gulp, then sent a defiant glance in his general direction before continuing with her dirty dancing.
Jesus Christ, was she drunk? It was the only thing that made sense to Mason. Katrina wasn’t an attention seeker, and she wasn’t the kind of woman who paraded herself in front of men. Then again, nothing about her behavior lately had been predictable or typical, and this little display of rebellion was th
e last straw. He’d had enough. Tonight, he was going to find out what the hell was going on with her.
Before he could figure out a way to get Katrina out of there without causing a scene, one of the guys at the bar made the huge mistake of reaching out and touching her. The dickhead curled his hand around her calf and started sliding it upward, and Mason thought he was going to flip his shit.
He saw bright red, as hot, fierce jealousy jolted through him. An unprecedented depth of emotion flooded him as he pushed his way through all her admirers to make his way up to the bar. He told himself he was being a friend and protecting her from one of these douchebags who might take advantage of her being drunk, but that didn’t explain the possessive feeling pumping through him with each step he took toward her. Add to that the steady stream of adrenaline ramping him up, and it was a potent combination that had him on edge and itching for a fight.
Realizing that the mob around the bar was too crammed and it would take him too goddamn long to get to Katrina, he instead went for the stairs that led directly to the top of the bar. As he climbed up, she caught sight of him and her eyes grew wide with panic, as if she realized she’d provoked him a little too far. He narrowed his gaze ominously, conveying his thoughts with that one look. That’s right, Kitty-Kat. Be afraid. Be very afraid because tonight we’re finally going to hash out what the fuck your problem is.
Now that Mason was on top of the bar—and yeah, he knew men weren’t allowed up there, but tough shit—their audience grew. Heads turned their way as everyone watched the scene about to unfold. Despite how pissed he was, Mason was determined to set aside his anger and be nice and gentle about getting Katrina out of there.
When he reached her, he circled his fingers loosely around her wrist to make sure she obeyed. “Come on, Katrina, we’re leaving.”
She yanked her hand out of his grasp and lifted her chin stubbornly. Her face was flushed and her eyes flashed fire. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
Okay . . . Apparently, he needed to line up a Plan B.
“Yes, you are,” he said firmly, all too aware of all the eyes on them. “I suggest you come with me willingly, or you’re not going to like the alternative. The choice is yours.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, a reckless glint in her eyes as she glared at him. “You’re such an asshole, Mase.”
Clearly, she was mad at him. For ruining her fun? Or something else? That was the problem lately—he had no fucking clue what he’d done wrong. Since she was already furious, he figured things couldn’t get much worse.
He sighed. “Since you think I’m an asshole, I might as well live up to my reputation.” Before she realized his intent, he bent low, wrapped his arms around the backs of her thighs, and hefted her over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold. She was slim and light—he bench-pressed more than what she weighed—and he heard her gasp at being taken by surprise.
She wriggled and squirmed as he headed back toward the stairs, with the crowd now cheering him on.
Her fists pummeled his backside. “Goddamn it, Mason Kincaid, let me down!”
He had no intentions of putting her feet back on the ground, because he knew he wouldn’t get this kind of leverage over her again. “Not gonna happen, Kitty-Kat, so relax and enjoy the ride.”
“Fuck you!” she bellowed.
He shook his head in disbelief. Jesus, when had she become such a goddamn hellcat?
He reached the bottom of the stairs and encountered Clay, who was frowning at him in that reprimanding way of his, and Mason knew that his big brother was going to be all . . . well, big brotherly, and try to interfere.
Before Clay could say a word, Mason spoke first. “Don’t you fucking dare try to stop me. Katrina and I have some things to hash out, and it’s happening tonight.”
Surprisingly, Clay backed down, nodded in understanding, and let him pass by. They all knew how out of character this stunt of Katrina’s was, and his brother also knew Mason would never physically hurt her.
The next roadblock Mason encountered was the big, beefy bouncer standing at the door, muscular arms folded over his chest, who wouldn’t let him walk by.
“Is she leaving with you willingly?” the bouncer asked gruffly.
“No!” Katrina shouted as she tried to kick her legs, which Mason held down with his forearm. “He’s kidnapping me!”