Page 55 of Rogue Games

What the fuck is wrong with me? Am I that lonely and desperate for connection?

“Jamie?” He can sense the shift in my mood, our wolves forming a connection while our human sides remain at odds.

His husky voice sends vibrations through me, and I fight the urge to submit to him, and just let whatever happens, happens. When I try to lift my elbow slightly and it moves, my shoulder hurts, but at least it’s back in place.

Dean must have fixed it.

Flashes of last night return. That asshole, Samuel, cutting the rope. Trying to wedge myself on the ledge. Strong hands dragging me up and carrying me through the darkness.

“You gave me a fright.” Dean’s voice is ragged as he presses his nose to my hair and breathes deep. “I never want to go through that again.”

Waiting for the punchline, I keep still. But as his touch continues to soothe me, and he slides his fingers down to my wrist, almost but not quite holding my hand, I’m thrown.

The man who told me he’d happily watch me being kicked off his land is telling me he was worried about me.

And for some dumb reason, I’m falling for it.

“Tell me who did this. Tell me who did this, and I’ll have their fucking head.”

Is he so angry because it’s me that’s hurt, or is it just his alpha instincts to protect everyone, and the disrespect of someone doing this on his land?

Stubbornly, I say nothing. If this is just about his alpha ego, I’m not going to be collateral damage.

“Jamie, tell me who did this to you,” he growls.

I squeeze my eyes even harder together, shaking my head to push out the images of last night and concentrate on right now, as he rolls slightly forward, leaning more of his weight against me. His erection, pressed to my body, isn’t an act. That’s the real deal.

Maybe… maybe just this once would be okay. And we could deal with the fall out later.

Sensing my weakness, my wolf immediately bombards me with flashes of him covering me from behind, pinning me down against the plush cushions, and pulling my legs apart.

Liquid heat floods my core. He must be able to scent my arousal now or feel my wetness against his bare thigh.

Dean’s fingers dance across my stomach before coming to rest lightly on my hip, where his thumb draws small circles over my flesh.

“What happened, Jamie? You can trust me.”

Every touch leaves a trail of scorching heat behind it, and my toes curl. I want to arch back into him, to invite him in, but my pride and my fear has me frozen in place.

I’ve never reacted to any man like this. Why Dean Reynolds?

I’m distracted from my thoughts by a flash of light illuminating the room, and soon after, the loud boom of thunder directly overhead. I jump and slam my eyes shut, trying to force myself not to shake as panic clutches at my throat.

“It’s just thunder Jamie. Nobody else is here,” Dean whispers, his warm breath at my ear sending shivers of a different kind over my skin.

“Storms. I can’t… I hate them.” It pains me to admit any vulnerability, but with Dean so close, I know he can hear my heart pounding and scent my fear.

There’s a pause, and I fidget, regretting sharing instantly. I know better than to show weakness, to let an alpha see your vulnerabilities.

“I’m fine. It’s fine,” I mutter, embarrassed, before he shushes me and wraps me up even tighter in his arms. “I’m just tired,” I add weakly.

“Shit, that’s how Wyatt knew you would have run home.” Dean shakes his head and keeps me close. “Don’t pretend, not with me. You don’t have to be strong all the time.”

A lump forms in my throat. I wish that were true.

“Shut your eyes.” His voice is deep and husky. “Just focus on me.”

Nodding, I close my eyes and attempt to relax, and I whimper again when a flash of light illuminates the room once more. Nothing he does works until his fingers find my hair and trail through the lengths. I practically melt into the cushions beneath us.

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