Page 70 of Pack Rivals, Part One

"Let me guess," I say, eyeing that t-shirt and the accompanying pair of sweatpants, "that person should be you."

"Correct."

"And what if I plan to run every day? Heck, there might be days I feel like going out for a run twice."

"That's fine. If I can't make it fit my schedule, one of my packmates will be able to."

I roll my shoulders and my neck. "I don't know … this was meant to be my alone time."

"I'll run five paces behind you then." He gestures to the streetlights flicking on one at a time above our heads. "Bea, it's not safe for you to be running out alone. I'm not saying that's fair or right. But it is a fact and I don't want anything to happen to you." His eyes are full of sincerity and it makes my stomach swoop. He's not telling me no. He's finding a way for me to do this.

"All right," I say nodding my head. A smile begins to form across his face and I lift a finger, "but five paces behind, no dictating the route, and no comments on my running style."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

"And you can carry my water bottle for me." His eyes swim over my form. I don't have a water bottle on me. I forgot to bring one and my throat is parched. "Next time."

"Got it." He gestures towards the sidewalk. "Shall we then?"

I nod and, throwing him one last shrewd look, set off again.

He's true to his word, staying several strides behind me, not interrupting my pace or distracting me from my run. Apart from the hint of his scent on the breeze and the sound of his loud footfall on the sidewalk, I almost forget he's there. I lose myself in the run again. Completely ignoring the inquisitive looks we receive as we race past doorways and people meandering along the street. We even overtake two other joggers and a cyclist.

A half hour later, we round a bend and end up outside my apartment door. I hunch over my knees, catching my breath. My legs scream in agony and sweat races down my face and into my eyes. But damn it feels so good.

When I glance up at Silver, I expect to find he's hardly broken sweat. But he's panting, the hair around his brow damp and the front of his t-shirt wet.

The man looks even hotter than he did before. I think about standing up on my tiptoes and licking away the sweat trailing down his throat with my tongue.

I gulp and stare down at my toes instead.

"You're pretty fast," he says.

"No commenting on my running, remember?"

"Sorry," he says, and he lifts up his palms as I glance at him.

"I used to be faster," I tell him with a little pride. He lifts an eyebrow like he's impressed. "But I haven't run for a while."

I wipe the back of my hand around my brow and stand up. I must look like a hot, sweaty mess. My cheeks are burning and I'm probably the color of a tomato. Yet this man looks as if he's as keen to lick me as I am him.

I remember Courtney's advice from this morning. And kick the critical voice out of my head.

"How did it feel?" he asks me.

I close my eyes and let out a long exhale, enjoying the burn and the buzz. "So good."

"Same time tomorrow then."

"Yeah," I mutter without thinking.

"Good night, Bea," he says and when I open my eyes, he's right beside me, bending down to kiss my cheek. My eyes flutter shut again, savoring the feel of those soft lips on my skin.

I part my lips, wait for him to kiss me, but he steps away.

He groans and mutters a curse under his breath, and then before I can work out what has happened here, he's spun and jogged away.

"Tomorrow," he tells me, waving at me above his head.

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