The bench seat allows me to slide up next to him and tuck myself under his arm.
He sighs, his muscles relaxing as he tries to hide the fact that he’s sniffing my hair right now.
“I’ll use you as my windshield,” I say, smiling up at him.
He returns my smile as he drives towards his trailer.
“You can use me as any sort of shield anytime.”
It’s not as freezing as it was last night, but I’m still completely naked, so I’m grateful Rowan is letting me tuck myself up against his side as the wind picks up.
“I was so afraid,” he murmurs, one of his hands falling from the wheel to squeeze my thigh.
It’s not a weird touch. He’s a lot closer to my knee than anywhere else, but the touch still sends a jolt of awareness running down my spine.
I’ve been having more of these moments lately. Maybe because I’m spending so much time without clothes, surrounded by men I’m attracted to.
This is normal, right? I’m not being weird?
Even though my scent telegraphs my reaction to his touch,leaving a sweet trail of my pheromones behind us, I still don’t have the courage to bring it up.
I feel safe with Rowan. I feel safe around the three alpha fighters. The last thing I want is to ruin whatever tentative friendships, partnerships, or understandings we have with each other.
None of them have said anything.
Well, Ash sort of did, but it was less with words and more with his body language. But maybe that was just his body reacting the same way mine does.
“I can practically feel you thinking a million miles a minute,” Rowan says, pulling the golf cart in front of his trailer.
“Yeah,” I say, helping him get out.
It takes all my strength to help him up the last few steps, because with each movement, Rowan puts more and more weight on me.
I want to get him to the bed, but he waves me off and collapses down onto the couch instead.
“Got some clothes for you in my room,” he murmurs. “Put them on before the doctor comes.”
“Okay,” I say.
I’m scared to take my eyes off him as I slowly make my way to his room.
I swear, I catch him saying something under his breath about hating the way other people look at me, but I can’t be too sure.
I pick another t-shirt and pair of boxers from his closet, but pause before heading back out. I decide to toss on a loose pair of basketball shorts he has over the boxers. They fall well below my knee.
Perfect.
If Rowan doesn’t like the way other people look at me, then I’ll give them less to look at! This is the perfect solution.
Well, it’s the perfect solution until I take a step forward and they fall to my ankles.
I have to pull the drawstring so tight that the bow I make iscomically large. If I pull the shorts up to cover my chest, which I’m pretty sure I can, I could use the bow to hold everything up by putting it around my neck like some sort of terrible romper.
Rowan cracks an eye open and bursts out laughing at the sight of me struggling to tuck the massive bow into the hem of the shorts.
“I look ridiculous,” I mumble, stepping back out into the living room.
“God,” he groans. “You can’t make me laugh like that, Sugar. Laughing hurts like a bitch.”
