Page 66 of Rough Riding Orc Cowboy

I shook my head, unable to speak, unable to move off him.

A second stretched. Then another. The world disappeared. No trickling water, no watching eyes. Just him. Us. I lowered my head and?—

“You two okay?” Pete called out from somewhere in the background, Carol murmured something about how treacherous the river bottom could be.

That yanked me back to the here and now so fast my stomach twitched.

Ruugar stiffened beneath me. In one swift movement, he sat up, lifting me with ease and setting me on my feet, rising to stand beside me. My skin burned even as cold river water sluiced down my frame.

A ridiculous, impossible yearning shuttered through my chest, something visceral, something I knew I had no right to feel. I clenched my jaw, hoping, praying, that my face didn’t betray the loss hollering through my bones. I swallowed but my damn spit refused to go down.

“I think we have enough fish now.” His tone came out controlled, but his eyes—wild and unreadable—betrayed him.

I barely noticed the water dripping from my clothes now. All I saw was the unmistakable shape beneath his soaked loincloth. It twitched, jutting forward.

I could not breathe. Heat slammed through me, pooling low, twisting deep. Had I caused it to happen? The very idea sent a dizzy, absurd thrill roaring through my veins.

But no. It had to be the water, the cold, something else. Not me. I’d swear he didn’t see me that way.

My pulse pounded in my ears, and for one wild second, I let myself imagine a world where hedidwant me. One where he wouldn't look away, wouldn't push me aside, wouldn't pretend I was another human under his care.

That world did not exist. If I wasn’t careful, I’d rip myself apart longing for what would never happen.

My face flamed, and I tore my gaze away, my heart hammering hard enough against my ribs to break them.

“You should change,” Ruugar said, his gaze locked on my chest.

I glanced down and—oh. Yeah, my body had responded to the cold.

Heat scorched my cheeks. I crossed my arms fast over my chest, but the mortification had already taken root. My body had turned against me, revealing too much.

I nodded, my throat too tight to form words, and turned before he could see the raw sting of rejection on my face. “I'll be fine. It'll dry.”

His jaw tightened. “I'll take care of the fish.”

“Alright.” I turned on my heel and waded to the shore. The others still sat by the fire, conversation drifting between them. I kept my arms crossed and angled away as I passed by them.

“Ben, you alright?” Mary asked.

I cleared my throat and deepened my voice. “Fine.” Please let me sound like a man.

“That river bottom can be tricky,” Carol said.

I nodded but didn't stop, making a beeline for the tent. Only when I’d zipped it closed behind me did I let out a breath. I sagged into the cleared space beside the sleeping bag, covering my mouth with my hand.

That had been too close.

Every second I spent near him gnawed at my restraint, unwinding my carefully built walls bit by bit. If I didn’t pull myself together, I was going to do something stupid. Disastrous even. Like believe that I was special to Ruugar.

My fingers twitched on the fabric of my sleeve, gripping, releasing, gripping again. My skin felt too tight, like I was trying to shove too much into a space alreadyoverflowing.

I willed myself to shake this off, to shakehimoff. Wanting things didn’t make them real.

I quickly stripped off my soaked clothes, rubbing my arms when a chill ripped through me. I tugged on dry clothing. With hurried fingers, I undid my braid, twisted my hair tight again, and secured it on the top of my head. Hat on. Mask in place. Disguise intact. More or less.

Taking a steadying breath, I stepped back outside and after hanging my wet clothing on the line someone had strung between two trees, I headed toward the cooking gazebo.

Ruugar stood at the counter, already working on the fish. He’d put on pants, thankfully, but his chest remained bare. Muscles shifted under his green skin as he moved, and the light caught the curve of his shoulders, the hard planes of his taut belly. A few water droplets clung to him, trailing paths down his back.

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