Page 72 of Cruel Games

Was this a territorial thing? Or something else?

“Thanks,” I muttered, turning back to the sunrise, which was now officially done rising, broken free of the horizon beyond.

“Warm enough?” he asked suddenly, his hands on either side of my shoulders, holding me in place.

I couldn’t speak. Now, neither one of us knew what to say or how to say it. How ironic. I cleared my throat and just nodded, hoping he knew I was talking to him.

“Good,” he said simply as he moved to sit down next to me. Now we both dangled over the edge, side by side, not a word between us as we appreciated this moment—or what was left of it—as one.

I subtly leaned my nose into the lining of the collar and inhaled deeply, relishing his scent in thefabric.

And flushed crimson when he leaned into my hair and sniffed me back with all the lack of shame of a literal dog. In fact, I saw his terribly-hidden smile as he closed his eyes and ducked away, pretending he wasn’t as affected as he was by the act.

What the fuck was wrong with these dogs? And why did I almost like it?

The silence was heavy but not suffocating, as it had the potential to be. Instead, it felt right. It felt almost . . . peaceful.

“I should push you off this roof right now and reduce my irritation by a third,” I said instead, without a single fleck of emotion in the words giving me away. “Could make things way easier on me, ya know.”

“You won’t,” he said simply, turning sideways to lay back on the concrete shelf, an arm thrown over his face to hide him from the sun.

“You sound pretty confident of that fact,” I grumbled, setting my coffee down close to the edge.

“I am,” he responded with a satisfied huff.

“Asshole.” My gaze returned to the bay, where I could see the sparkle of the water shining back at me like a dream as you wake up. It was there, just enough of a hint to make you believe, but you knew when you got close enough, it would lose its luster, and the sparkle would be a simple shine.

“Why don’t you talk to people?” I said after what felt like forever, my hair falling over a shoulder as I shifted to look at him when he answered.

Except I shifted a little too far and lost my balance.

Three things happened in the blink of an eye.

I knocked my coffee mug off the ledge, watching with a sort of abject horror as it disappeared from view. My whole body tensed up, fight or flight gaining a new, third brother in the mix: freeze. And just when I thought I might fall off the edge and put an end to everything before I’d even begun to start, strong handsgrabbed me around the waist and yanked me back to the roof, sending me and their owner tumbling to the ground in a tangle of limbs and clothes.

More specifically, me. On top of Coyote. My hands splayed on his bare chest, the warmth rolling off of him in waves, his hair falling in his face as he stared up at me, incredulous.

For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

Why the fuck was this man so damn attractive?

His hand reached up, snaked into the back of my hair, and tugged us closer, caressing me even as he urged us nose to nose. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t even blink; I was so afraid of missing something. So, I did the only thing that made sense.

I waited for him to make a move.

Of course, this would happen to be the moment when someone else stumbled upon us, ruining the moment of whatever the fuck that was, like a bucket of ice water on the head of a drunk person first thing in the morning.

And, of course, ithadto be fuckingJackal.

“Jesus, Coyote, if you’re gonna make out with the enemy, at least do it in the privacy of your room, damn.”

I scrambled off him like I’d been electrocuted, lips snapping shut that I’d only seconds ago parted in anticipation of a replay of the kiss we shared in the warehouse. The tops of his ears turned a pretty shade of pink as he scrambled to his feet and abandoned me with a grunt, glaring daggers in Jackal’s direction as he shoulder-checked the other man and left me alone with the bane of my existence.

Of fuckingcourse.

Jackal could ruin a fucking wet dream.

The man in question sauntered over to where I sat on the ledge, lamenting my lost coffee and the cute mug I’d have to replace. My funds were already dwindling, too. Soon enough, I’d run out of money, and as much as I’d talked a good talk abouttaking their money for fun, I couldn’t abide being a freeloader or a thief.

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