Page 92 of Snared Rider

He is standing in just his jeans, his feet bare, and I can’t help but marvel at his physique. It is impressive. It’s also clear he took a beating from Logan.

His chest is mottled with steadily darkening bruises visible between his tattoos and there is a cut on his forehead that has started to clot over. It looks as if he has tried (and failed) to clean himself up, and I can’t help but wince at his blood-ringed nostrils. This is my fault. All of it.

“Are you okay?”

The question is automatic, but it seems to annoy him, if the hard set of his jaw is anything to go by. He leans against the door jamb, barring the entrance. A clear indication I’m not welcome inside.

This… this hurts.

“Did you need something?” he demands, not acknowledging my question. I notice his eyes soften slightly as he takes in the ice pack I’m clutching, which gives me hope he doesn’t hate my guts.

“I just… I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

He folds his arms over his chest, the muscles rippling at the movement. “I’m fine.”

“Dean—”

“Don’t,” he snaps. “Don’t try to justify it.”

The harshness of his words makes my body recoil. Not with shock but anger.

“Don’t try to justify it? I didn’t realise I needed to justify anything to you—to anyone, in fact. Yes, Logan and I slept together. That’s not your business. It’s not anyone’s business, and I’m not sure why the hell you think you have the right to act as if my private life has in some way impacted you!”

His expression is incredulous and I don’t understand why. I’m not his sister, I’m not his girlfriend, and he has no right to interfere in my life.

“He lied. You lied. You think that shit will fly with the Club?” He snorts in a way that suggests I’m crazy if I think it will. My heart rate picks up a little. What will they do to Logan—to me—when this comes out? Because judging by Dean’s attitude there is no way in hell he’s keeping quiet about it.

Fuck.

“Why would the Club give two shits who I sleep with, Dean?”

He turns his head to the side, considering me. I squirm under his heated gaze. “If you think that then why did you hide it?”

This is a good point, and not one I want to acknowledge.

“Because neither of us wanted to deal with crap like this.” This is not entirely true but I roll with it anyway. “Despite what you think Dean, I’m not stupid and I’m not a child. Yes, I slept with Logan. Yes, we kept our brief—and I mean brief—relationship secret, but we didn’t do a thing wrong. And you—and the other brothers—don’t get to judge our choices. Neither of us would judge yours.”

He stares at me as if trying to read me. Then he says, “What happened between you?”

“That’s also not your business.” And even if it was I wouldn’t say because I do not need to air that indignity.

“He shagged you and dumped you; that is my business.” He leans into me and I resist the urge to step back as his huge frame encroaches into my space. “I know you don’t get it, B, but let me educate you: you’re the closest thing I’ve got to a sister and I’m finding it really hard not to cut Logan’s dick off and feed it to him for hurting you.”

His words surprise me (and scare me a little). They shouldn’t because Dean, like Logan, has always looked out for me. But I’m not a little girl anymore. I’m an adult, with my own life. I don’t need his protection.

“Well, thank god you showed restraint,” I mutter, unable to keep the sarcasm from my voice.

“I’m never going to stand by while a man disrespects you, Beth,” he tells me, “I don’t care who that man is.”

“He wasn’t disrespecting me,” I point out, even though that was exactly what he did.

“Did he fuck you then dump you?”

Dean’s crass words make me wince. Trust him to cut right to the chase. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Did he?” he presses.

“It’s more complicated than that, Dean.”

---