The Pack Rule Number 1 No Mates

Chapter Two Hundred Thirty-Seven ROSE

"I thought I heard you screaming for me. I thought... I heard you call my name." Bartlett's silhouette beyond the distorted glass grows larger as he steps closer to the doors.

Did? Oh God I hope not!

Think fast, Bose, think, think think

"Rose, are you alright in there?" His deep voice sounds somewhat strained and I have to wonder how much of me he can actually see. I'm sure it's enough for him to make out the thickness of my figure at the very least. Now he might even agree with what Delilah said about me before she left. "Rose?"

"Um.....L... I'm fine I just-1-" Fuck! What can I say? The scars?!-1 just panicked for a moment. I realized... I-I don't have any injuries. None."

I watch his body jerk back a bit before he lifts an obscured arm upward and appears to run his fingers through his hair. "Oh. Right," he replies, sounding more than a little sketchy. "Is that a bad thing?"

I move toward the shower door, needing for some reason to see his face. Wanting desperately to gage his reaction to my standing here naked. When I get to the garbled glass entrance I'm relieved to see that it's still too difficult to make out any of his details beyond the glass. This should mean that he can't make out any of my details either. Taking a deep breath, I pull the damn thing open just enough for me to peer out, while leaving the rest of myself warped behind the slivers of rain glass. What the h

hell am I doing? Am I crazy?

The click of the door opening seems to surprise him, though he's looking dead at me when I peek out. The sapphires of his eyes warble, their black centers stretching like a pair of obsidian mirrors. He sucks in a sharp breath as his gaze twitches downward and left, locking on something behind the glass right around where my chest should be. Just the thought of him staring at my boobs has my nipples hardening and my core throbbing again. Almost too naturally for me to notice, one of Bartlett's hands slides toward the front of his jeans to adjust himself and my own eyes follow this path, dropping away from his face then bulging once I see how absolutely thick he is behind his zipper. When his gaze shoots upward again, he is hesitant, his attention darting back down at least two more times before The shuts his eyes completely.

"Uh...maybe I shouldn't have come in here," he murmurs, his fists balling at his sides. "Would you like a towel?"

A real, genuine smile one that I cannot control - rips across my face at his obvious discomfort. My cheeks heat tremendously, watching In wonder as his seat grows more and more prominent, punching against his jeans,

"Yes please," I answer, biting back my excitement as I realize I may be having my very first, very real adult crush. Fuck that. I na definitely having...

A muscle ticks behind his beard, clenches and unclenches, much like my sex is doing, "O-okay," he stammers firally, turning toward a shelf on his left and snatching a fluffy black towel. He shifts on his feet, the exposed muscles of his arms flexing before he spins my way and thrusts the damn thing at my face. "Here you go," he says huskily, as I open the door just enough to slip my hand out.

Thank you, Bartlett, I simper. His eyes are still closed and when my hand grazes his to grab the towel, sparks of heat curl my fingers around his hand involuntarily.

With a gasp of surprise, I yank the towel from him and his eyelids flutter just barely. Confident that he'll remain that way until I'm covered up, I pull the door all the way out and wrap myself as swiftly as I'm able, tucking the corner of the towel in between my breasts. When I look up again his eyes are open to half most and I jolt backward in what would be the most classically stupid move ever, because that's right - I slip.

A yelp of surprise hurdles from my mouth and into the air as I go toppling forward, my eyes clamping shut as my hands shoot out to

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Chapter Two Hundred Thirty-Seven

break my fall, but I don't hit the ground. Instead, it's as if I'm whisked off my feet and spun into the air, bouncing into a pair of the strongest, most capable arms I've ever had the pleasure of fantasizing about.

I open my eyes and Bartlett is holding me. All I can think about at that moment is how heavy I am and I squirm against him until he crushes me more tightly against his chest. Now I can't move except to breathe and a whimper of need trembles past my lips. One of my hands grips his powerful shoulder and the other claws over a rock hard pectoral which is undeniably flexed to perfection.

Oh sweet Baby lesias, that feels so nice.

"Stop wiggling," he rasps, his sapphire eyes sparkling with amusement as he smiles behind his beard. His gaze dips toward my mouth and then lower. His eyes slowly dance down my neck then rest on the shuddering heave of my bosom. He stares for a long moment and I think I hear him curse, but it's so low I can't be sure. The bands of his arms are flexed beneath me and all that I was dreaming about on the bench comes crashing back doen.

Was this it? Is this how he carried me away from my doom?

"Th-thank you," I stutter stupidly, clamming up so completely that I press my face into his shirt so that he can't see me blush.

"Mmm...yeah, um...yes - I mean, you're welcome," he rumbles out, "Feel free to bite me if you need to," he whispers, exiting the bathroom with me still in his arms.

["Bite you?" I laugh into his shirt, I can't help myself.

His forearm that rests under my knees fluctuates and I feel the stroke of his fingers across the flesh of my leg. A chill rides over me as he steps back toward the bed. The bed which he must have made while I was in the shower,

Oh my God. Maybe he did hear me. Maybe I did call out his name.

Fire erupts across my chest as I realize that he may have been in here and heard not only his name, but my moans of pleasure. I'd hoped the tremendous beat of the shower would disguise any sound beyond those walls, but in truth there was no way for me to know that. It could be that the walls are paper thin and the echo of sound from that enormous onyx cavern carries like the voice of an opera singer to the balcony up above.

Holy shit. Why am I so stupid?

"Rose," Bartlett whispers, grabbing my attention once again.

Meeting his gaze, I can see

se his worry for me. Like my panicking over my own stupidity is easily read in my eyes. Suddenly I need more than anything for him to let me go.

"Put me down, please," I snap, wincing when I hear the harshness of my tone.

I can feel his heart beating against my palm, the tremor in his chest grewing stronger with my words. "Not yet," he argues, laughing when

I glare at him. "Don't be embarrassed," he whispers, his jaw going tight as his eyes search my face for God knows what.

*Embarrassed?" I squeak out, my face blanching. He heard me, he definitely heard me. Oh lord, Cara pervert. "Embarrassed that

you slipped. It's okay, I don't mind catching you. And ... I like holding you," he says so softly that my only response is a breathless little moan. His eyelids lower at the sound, his head dipping downward, almost as if he might kiss me. I tremble in his hold, my gaze going toward his lips as I wait for him to descend on me. Time seins to stop and I hold my breath, not even realizing that my hands are gripping him more tightly.

Suddenly he growls with an almost animalistic rumble that starts deep in his chest. The sound has me gasping in surprise as my clit pulses to life and wetness leaks from my core. My lashes shutter lower and 1 tilt my head back, waiting. The sensation is pleasure and poin and everything I've never experienced rolled into one.

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I want this.. I want him.

This is it, my very first kiss.

Maybe even my only kiss.

But... he doesn't do it. He doesn't kiss me. Instead, he sets me down gingerly, on the edge of the bed and then races into the restroom to retrieve my clothes. My entire body aches from the loss of his touch and I find myself feeling even worse than I did when he caught me in the aftermath of my orgasm.

Because now I feel... rejected.

Bartlett tosses the clothes on my lap, all the while keeping his head turned away from me. "Hurry up and get dressed," he says almost too sharply. "We should head out soon. Charlie is going to drop us off at the docks so we can head to the island."

He

turns around and races up the steps much faster than he did the first time, only stopping when I call out to him.

"Bartlett!" I shout, closing my arms around my person in an attempt to make myself feel whole.

He doesn't run around, "Yes?"

How I

in a coma, wasn't 177

long was 1 in a coma?" I ask. "Because I was in

"You were," he confirms, still not turning.

"How long?"

He

doesn't answer me. At least, not the question that i asked, but he does respond and I can see his hand white knuckled on the bedroom door. "Just get dressed. I'll explain everything once we're away from here."

He closes the door and suddenly I'm left feeling bereft and confused. My gaze lands on the back door and the patio beyond it.

I'll bet there are stairs that lend right down to the beach.

Would he chase after me if I left?

Does he really care about me? Or does he feel responsible for me?

There's one way to find out.