Carly threw trinkets, souvenirs, and the digital photo frame full of happy pictures of herself and Ethan at him. Finally she picked up the box itself and threw the whole thing.
“That’s everything you’ve ever given me. Except the heartburn from your fancy restaurants, and the worry that I wasn’t good enough for your snotty friends. I’d love to throw those at you too.”
Ethan caught the box and slammed it back to the table. “You’re right. I gave you everything, Carly. You were just a stupid receptionist with no future until you met me. I even gave you that dress. You only look so good because I took you to the best stores.”
Carly clutched the dress’s bodice. “No, you didn’t. I remember. You didn’t like it and refused to buy it, so I put it on my own credit card. It’s mine.”
“But I paid that credit card for you. I’ve been paying all your bills, Carly. You wouldn’t have shit right now if it wasn’t for me.”
Carly’s vision tinged with red. Through the haze she saw the image of Ethan banging away at the woman on the counter, her legs around Ethan’s bare hips. Ethan had been wearing a business shirt, the tails of it just hiding his buns, and his pants with their fine leather belt had fallen around his ankles. He’d looked absolutely ridiculous.
How many times had Carly congratulated herself that she’d snared him as she’d run her hands over Ethan’s honed body? Liking that he kept himself in shape, was so good-looking, and she was going to marry him?
Next to Tiger, and even Ellison, whom she’d only just met, Ethan was fading to nothing. He had the charisma of a flea. And he’d done his damnedest to make sure Carly felt lucky that he’d noticed her.
Carly’s rage boiled over. She yanked open the zipper on the silk dress and shoved the garment down over her hips. In her underwear and heels, she stepped out of the dress and balled it up.
“You want this back? Here it is.” She threw the wadded-up dress at Ethan, hitting him square in the chest. “Wait, did you pay for the lingerie too? Fine, you can have it.”
As Carly unsnapped and stripped off her bra, Ellison’s gray wolf eyes widened, and he swung around on the heels of his cowboy boots and stared at the wall. “Turning my back, turning my back.”
Tiger pushed himself between Carly and Ethan. “Don’t look at her.” His growl filled the room, vibrating against the glass kitchen cabinets. One had broken, Carly saw.
Carly threw the bra down on the table and planted her hand on her hips; she was still in her mile-high, leopard-print heels. Those were hers, and she wasn’t giving them back. “No, let him look, Tiger. I want him to see what he’s never getting again. Ever.”
Ethan’s terrified gaze wasn’t for Carly. Fear was evident in his wide eyes, in the fleck of spittle on his lips as he was caught and pinned by Tiger’s stare. He knew damn well he’d shot Tiger full on, and now Tiger stood here healthy and whole, ready for payback.
Carly saw Ethan’s hand snake for his cell phone, but Ellison was there, clamping his wrist. “Don’t think so,” Ellison said. “Now the lady has given you back what you gave her, fair and square. You let her walk out of here, and you don’t bother her again.”
Ethan’s voice was shaky, but his arrogance still came through. “She can pay me for the Corvette, though.”
“What?” Carly demanded, her voice rising. “I sent your stupid car back to you without a scratch.”
“And those Shifters sprayed in it. It smells like cat piss. I’ll have to have it detailed.”
“Sean and Spike?” Ellison asked in surprise. “They couldn’t have. Shifters don’t spray. Must have been a regular cat that got inside it. A tomcat pissed off about something.”
“What are you talking about?” Ethan snapped. “That guy with all the tattoos ruined my car!”
“Nah.” Ellison, who still had Ethan’s wrist, leaned close. “You know how Spike marks his territory? He doesn’t spray. He kills his enemies and grinds their bones and blood into the soil. He leaves just enough scent to explain to everyone else not to cross the line with him.”
Ethan’s face was gray, his pupils pinpricks. He’d pass out any second. “Spike? Tiger? What kind of names do you people have?”
“Yeah, I know, Ellison is a real strange one. What was my mom thinking? Carly, even though it’s a crime to cover you up, you’re going to have to put something on before we leave. If you get arrested for driving around like that, Liam will kill me.”
“No problem,” Carly said, folding her arms over her breasts. “I have a bunch of stuff here that I bet he was going to burn. Be right down.” She turned away, then looked back at Ethan over her shoulder. “Sorry, Ethan. The panties are mine.”
CHAPTER TEN
Carly skimmed up the spiral staircase, fuming, not letting herself think. She’d grab her stuff and get the hell out of this house. She might even burn the clothes she’d left here, because she didn’t want any reminders of Ethan the Asshole.
Tiger, of course, followed her.
Carly went, not to the room she’d slept in with Ethan whenever she’d stayed over, but to the dressing room off his bedroom that also opened into the hall. I mean, who the hell has a dressing room?
Ethan did, and it looked like the best-fitted dressing room from GQ. Walnut paneling covered the walls that were filled with drawers and shelves. He had a separate armoire for his suits, a sofa with a side table, and a little wet bar where Ethan could mix himself a drink while he dressed for his night on the town.
The dressing room was like a walk-in closet on steroids. Carly had thought it the coolest thing when she’d first seen it. Now it looked overdone and ostentatious, like the rest of Ethan’s life.
Ethan had condescended to let Carly have an empty drawer in a corner near the sofa. She went to it and started yanking out her stuff, pausing to slide a T-shirt over her nudity.
Tiger’s arms came around her from behind, his hands on the wall pinning her in place. Carly turned around, his warmth like a shelter. Tiger lowered his head to her T-shirt and sniffed.
“This reeks of him.”
“Yes, I know.” Carly heaved a small sigh. “But there’s nothing I can do about it right now. I have a backup dress at the gallery, but even so, I’m going to be late, again.”
Tiger didn’t let her go. He brushed his nose from her neck across her shoulder, nuzzling her as he had earlier this morning, the absolute strength of him fixing her in place.
He raised his head and looked into her eyes. Carly had the sensation of being studied, thoroughly, much more so even than when Dylan had looked at her. Tiger might not know how to kiss, but he could look into a person and see everything.
His T-shirt stretched over a body that had stopped Carly in her tracks when she’d first seen it. And the second time, and the third. Tiger was made of muscle, but that didn’t stop him from moving so quietly his prey never knew he was on it until too late.
“You really are a tiger,” Carly said softly.
Tiger’s expression didn’t change, and he didn’t answer. Stupid thing to say. Of course he knew what he was. More than Carly knew what she was.
Tiger cupped her face in his big hand, thumb tracing her cheekbone. The tenderness in the touch made her heart squeeze.
Carly moved closer to him, wanting his warmth. She was in only a T-shirt, panties, and heels, no match for the frigid breeze of Ethan’s air-conditioning.
Tiger seemed to know what she needed. He pressed her back into the wall, his body over hers but never crushing. His warm weight stopped her shivering, and his hand moved from the curve of her waist to her breast, heating, soothing.