My head snapped toward him, slow and controlled.
He shut up immediately.
Jamie shifted awkwardly, clearly feeling the tension.
“Lex… you don’t have to act like – like my guard dog or something.”
It was a joke.
A light, harmless sentence.
But it landed like a punch straight to my ribs.
My chest tightened.
My throat went hot.
“Your guard dog.”
Right.
That’s all I was to him? Some overprotective asshole circling him like he needed babysitting?
I didn’t let the reaction show.
I never do.
I just nodded once.
“Got it,” I said, turning away.
“I didn’t mean to bother you, or your friends. Enjoy your party.”
And I walked out of the room.
I didn’t have to wait long.
I knew him.
I knew his softness.
His need to fix things.
His instinct to chase after anyone he thinks he’s hurt.
My little ember always followed.
I heard his footsteps behind me before I reached the hallway.
Like a good little puppy.
The image flashed in my mind before I could stop it – Jamie on his knees, a collar buckled around his throat, a tail plug teasing between his perfect cheeks, eyes wide and obedient and all for me.
Heat shot down my spine, hitting my groin with humiliating precision.
Fuck.
I scrubbed the fantasy from my face, keeping my strides steady as I stepped into one of the rooms on the third floor of our family mansion. Jamie caught up, breath warm against my shoulder.
