close to him in weeks, and I couldn't help the way my body responded. Usually, when he held me up, I was against a wall and he was fucking me until I couldn't breathe or see or think.
Today, though, there was no arousal in his gaze. He was uber pissed off.
"I can't be a prisoner," I told him quietly, too tired to fight any longer. My face hurt. The graze on it was superficial, but it needed to be cleaned properly—not to mention my ribs, which were screaming beneath the steel-band hold of Dylan's arms. "I just wanted to get to my cabin and brush my teeth in peace. Maybe change my clothes." New panties would not go astray.
Dylan's gaze shifted to the scrape on my cheek, and there might have been a slight thawing in the icy depths of his eyes. "You will walk out the front door and not take a risk like this again. Understood?"
I nodded, desperate to get away from him. This was too hard. Too much. Kicking my Dylan habit had been almost more than I could manage, and being in his arms again was tempting the addict.
With his help, I got back through the window unharmed. He stayed right on my ass as I shakily left the room, heading past the rowdy tables and the much less rowdy, but definitely more interested in us, table of guides. Dylan's staff had no idea what to make of the current situation, and honestly, neither did I.
Dylan, thankfully, let me go the rest of the way alone, and as he sat at his table again, he snapped something at the others and they quickly got their eyes off me. My own tension didn’t fade until I was out of the building, heading toward my cabin.
Outside it was chilly, but most of the snow had already melted, leaving a muck of icy dirt in its wake. This aftermath of a small snowstorm was my least favorite part of the white, fluffy stuff.
My boots were covered in mud by the time I got to the cabin, and shivering, I ducked inside and slammed the door closed behind me. I wouldn't put it past Jonnie to ambush me again, and as I had that thought, I quickly slid one of the rickety old tables in front of the door. It wasn't going to stop him, but it'd give me a couple of minutes to find a weapon.
With no clue how much time I'd have before we were called to the next task, I hurried to my bag and pulled out a change of clothing and some toiletries. Next to the toilet was a sink, and surprisingly, it had decent pressure and hot water. So I stripped and washed up even better than I had in the other bathroom, brushing my teeth twice before I dressed again in new clothes.
I actually felt somewhat decent when I moved the table and opened my front door. As I stepped out, I ran straight into a hard chest, and whatever joy I’d built up vanished in an instant.
"Dylan!" I gasped, shooting back as I pressed my hand to my chest.
He leveled his eyes at me, anger turning the color to a deep, rich, mossy shade. "We need to talk, Brooklyn."
I swallowed roughly. This was the exact conversation I did not want to happen. "Do we really?" I said softly. "We were fuck buddies. You cared nothing about me when your ten-inch dick was buried inside me, so why start now?"
Dylan's lips twitched. "It's at least twelve inches."
It probably was, the big bastard. I'd certainly hobbled away more than a few times from his treatment, but in those cases, it was pain I’d more than enjoyed.
"Don't deliberately miss my point," I said as exhaustion once again pressed on me. "We didn’t have the sort of relationship where we pried into each other's lives, and yeah, right now our real worlds have collided, but as soon as this camp is over, I'll be out of your hair once more."
I tried to step around him, and I almost thought I was going to make it, until his heavy hands landed on my shoulders. Being unexpectedly grabbed from behind was a trigger for me, but before I could freak out, Dylan had already spun me so that my back was firmly pressed to the door. He crowded into me, and I could see nothing but his chest.
"I never decided we were done," he breathed, leaning down so his