Page 6 of Sharing Shane

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she demanded as the bubbling rage spilled over, and had the grim satisfaction of seeing them leap apart as though someone had set fire to the air between them.

Derek’s eyes were wide with shock, and she was pretty sure his face would’ve been dead white if not for the self-tanner. “Roni! What are you doing here?”

“Seriously?” Veronica ground out while Delia cackled gleefully in her ear. “That’s what you’re going to say to me?”

“What…I mean…you…”

“I came home to get the paperwork for my meeting,” she informed him icily. “Which I forgot because you hustled me out the door this morning so you could prep for your ‘conference call’.” Her eyes raked over him, still fully dressed except for his wet dick poking out of his pants. “What exactly is this marketing campaign, anyway?”

“Baby, I can explain,” he began.

“Really?” She folded her arms across her chest, raising a brow when he flushed. “You can explain why you were balls deep in my next-door neighbor without a condom?”

“I…I…”

She nodded. “That’s what I thought.”

Veronica spared a glance for Cami, who was scrambling into her clothes. “And you,” she said, her voice filled with disappointment. “I thought better of you.”

Half into her pants, the redhead flushed a bright cherry red from her nipples to her hairline. “Veronica, I just?—”

“How long?” Veronica demanded.

Cami blinked. “What?”

Veronica jerked her head towards Derek, who was gaping like a fish with his wet dick hanging out of his open fly. “How long have you been fucking my boyfriend?”

Cami’s gaze darted to Derek, then back to Veronica. She swallowed hard. “About two months.”

“And how long without condoms?”

Cami swallowed again. “The…the whole time. I’m allergic to latex.”

“You’ve never heard of a non-latex condom?”

“Veronica, I’m really?—"

“Oh, shut up.” Veronica cut her off and turned back to Derek. “Give me my key.”

He held up his hands, palms out in a classic hey, I’m harmless gesture. His expression had gone from shocked dismay to calculated charm—she could actually see him trying to think his way out of the mess he’d fucked his way into. “Veronica, let’s talk about this.”

She had to fight to keep her hand open instead of curling it into a fist to punch his smug, cheating face. “Give. Me. My. Key.”

He shoved a hand into his pocket. “You’re overreacting.”

“Am I,” she said coldly, not a hint of question in her tone, and Delia cackled again.

His face twisted, anger and annoyance flitting through his expression before he smoothed it out again. He pulled her apartment key off his key ring and laid it in her palm, then clamped his hand over hers before she could pull away.

“Baby, come on. You don’t want to do this.”

“Let go, Derek.”

His fingers tightened. “We can talk about this.”

“The only thing we can talk about right now is what’s going to happen to your kneecaps if you don’t let go of my hand and get the fuck out of my apartment.” She forced her lips to peel back in a smile. His face blanched, his fingers slackening, and she pulled free.

She slid the key into the pocket of her slacks, then stepped back. “Get out.”

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