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addict! Paul lowered his hand and shoved it in his pocket as he walked towards the door. Preston had finally gone outside, thank God. Paul didn’t think he could disguise the lust spiralling through him. He sure couldn’t hide the erection that shouldn’t have been possible. He’d just come minutes before.
    Yet his shaft was as hard as the pavement beneath his feet as he left the store. The door opened up behind him, and he just knew who was following him. It wasn’t fear that made his heart leap. The man wasn’t going to hurt him.
    What the hell is happening? I want… Paul refused to admit what he wanted. Going there wasn’t an option. He was never letting anyone that close to him again.
    Which didn’t explain why he slowed his steps. Preston and Nischal were waiting in the truck. Shit. Paul realised belatedly that he should have scrubbed off in the restroom. Nischal would smell the cum on him. Damned shifter. God damn it!
    Shame burned in him, leaching out to warm his cheeks uncomfortably. Paul stumbled and would have fallen had he not been grabbed by the shoulder from behind.
    “Hey, you okay?”
    “Oh God,” Paul rasped before he could bite his tongue. That deep, rumbly voice almost made him come in his jeans. He jerked away from the man’s hold.
    “Sorry. I was just trying—”
    “Let go of him!”
    Paul groaned and closed his eyes the second he heard Preston shout. He was released instantly.
    “I was just trying to keep him from falling.”
    Paul glanced behind him to see the man holding both hands up in the air, chest-height. He turned back in time to see Nischal jogging after Preston. Paul closed his eyes and groaned. This is about to become a real clusterfuck. Opening his eyes, he tried to think up an explanation, but really, short of ‘I jumped this big, sexy stud as soon as I could’, there wasn’t much he could say.
    “Paul, come on.”
    Paul cringed at the pity in his brother’s voice. Maybe that wasn’t what Preston intended, but it was what Paul heard.
    “I’m fine,” he snapped. “Let’s go.”
    But Preston had other ideas as he walked over. “Hey, are you related to the Travis family?”
    Oh shit. Paul swung around and gaped at the man he’d got off with—that he’d helped to get off. For the first time in ages, Paul had touched someone else and enjoyed it.
    He didn’t hear the words the man spoke. Instead he took in the long nose, the high cheekbones and the firm, square chin. That hair that had looked almost black inside was a dark auburn in the sunlight. And his build…
    “Fuck,” Paul spat, disgust trying to rear up over what he’d just done, and who he’d done it with. “Go back to the truck, Nischal.”
    “I smell…” Nischal began. Paul bumped him hard as he strode quickly towards the truck. Nischal’s grunt didn’t quite muddle his words. “Cum. Did you fuck Paul?”
    Paul was pretty sure he’d just fucked himself.
     
    * * * *
     
    Justice had known he’d fucked up, but it was quickly sinking in just how badly he’d done so as he answered Nischal’s question.
    “No,” Justice said, watching the way Paul’s ass flexed beneath his jeans as he all but ran off.
    “Bullshit,” Nischal growled. “I don’t care that you’re related to me somehow, you can’t have Paul!”
    Those words caused an uproar with Justice’s leopard. The beast raged in him, demanding a chance to gnaw some manners into Nischal. Justice narrowed his eyes at the man as Preston took off after his brother.
    “You would do well to shut up about now,” Justice warned. Normally he was more patient, less of a dick, but he was barely refraining from shifting and going after Nischal’s throat. No one was going to tell him he couldn’t have Paul—“Fuck.”
    Justice barely missed the fist coming at his face. He grabbed Nischal’s wrist and with a jerk, had the man in a hold that he wouldn’t get out of without shifting.
    “Cut it out, idiot,” Justice snarled as Nischal jerked