Page 57 of Rogue Games

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

Self-preservation and pride win out and my walls go back up.

“I mean, I’m very naked, in a strange cabin, and you have the games to get back to.” I pretend I wasn’t talking about us.

Dean goes still behind me and his hand lifts from my side. Ever so slowly, he peels his massive body away from me, inch by inch, until we’re no longer pressed together, head to toe.

The loss of his touch instantly makes me want to shove those words back into my mouth. I miss his comforting presence immediately.

Which makes me even more certain I made the right decision.

“You were hypothermic, and in shock. I needed to get you warm as quickly as possible.” His delivery is defensive. Clipped. Grumpy alpha Dean is back. “Maybe we shouldn’t have… the situation is tricky, Jamie.”

He scratches the back of his head and winces, staring at the ceiling. Searching for the right words to soften the blow.

“No. You don’t need to…” My wolf whines as his dark eyes shutter, and the closeness between us evaporates. “I’m leaving today anyway.”

The couch shifts as he stands, taking his weight and his intoxicating scent with him.

“I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologise for,” I say, sitting up to face him, clutching the blanket to my chest, suddenly feeling his renewed distance like a loss.

He doesn’t respond, instead, steps away and turns his back to me like a gentleman, which pisses me off even more when he had his fingers inside me, just hours ago. My juices are still coating his fingers.

“Dean?”

I feel awkward, like an unwanted one-night stand who’s overstayed their welcome.

“No, you’re right. This was a bad idea. I’m the alpha here, I’m the one who should be keeping their distance.”

His words stun me into silence. He makes it sound like I threw myself at him, and he should have resisted. My disappointment quickly morphs into anger. I’m the one who poured cold water on the moment, but he’s acting like a jerk.

“Whereas I’m a mere rogue. I couldn’t possibly be expected to control myself around such a dashing specimen of manhood.”

He ignores my sarcasm and slips back into stern alpha mode.

“How’s your shoulder?” Gruff and impatient, he flips open the lid of a chest near the door and pulls out some clothes, stepping quickly into trousers and hiding his impressive physique from my hungry eyes. Snapping his wrist, he sends a black T-shirt flying in my direction, and I grunt as my reflex to catch it jars my strapped shoulder. It hits me in the face and drops into my lap.

“Just peachy,” I snap back, twisting the T-shirt around and attempting to shove my head through the opening with one hand.

Dean just watches silently, not offering to help. Irritation scratches at my brain. He might make a great big spoon and have talented hands, but apparently, he’s still an ass.

When I finally pop my head out the top and manage to wiggle my good arm out through the sleeve, I’m flustered and annoyed. Embarrassed too, as the faint scent of my arousal still lingers in the air.

“Did everyone else make it back okay?” My question comes out sharper than I intended. Those grey eyes turn stormy as he lobs a pair of huge men’s shorts at me.

“Everyone else is fine. Everyone else had the sense to seek cover and get off the course.” Dean looks around him at the beautiful but sparsely decorated open plan space. “You needed to get warm, so I brought you here.”

Wyatt’s safe. I’m off the ledge. I should be grateful. I am grateful. But my blood is boiling. I want him to be angry too. Or flustered. Or something so I know it’s not just me who feels so off-kilter.

“Naked.”

Why can’t I get past the naked part? Shifters are used to seeing each other with no clothes on. But having a man’s hard-on pressed into your ass is a whole other level of intimacy.

“Yes, Jamie. I had to strip your wet clothes and let my body heat bring your core temperature back up to a non-life-threatening level since your wolf was too weak to heal you.” His words are clinical, making it sound like there was no tenderness in the way he was holding me. That he didn’t take care of me because he wanted to, because he had to.

“And that’s the only reason?” I gesture back and forth between us, letting my eyes linger on the tent still pitched in the front of his shorts. It's impressive, and it takes all my willpower to look away.

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