Dean woke with a start. When he tried to move his arms, pain shot through his shoulders. “Ow.”
Damn, that had hurt.
He moved his head around, trying to work out the kinks of sleeping upright all night. He was hungry, thirsty, and had to piss like nobody’s business. Dean glanced around and spotted someone in the cabin.
It wasn’t the same person as last night. Although this newcomer had the same smoky-gray eyes as the other guy, his hair was blond instead of black, and he had more than just a beard, though his beard and mustache was more of a two-day growth.
“Can I please use the bathroom and stretch? I promise not to try anything funny. It’s just that my whole body aches.”
Dean would give his left nut to get up and stretch. Aside from the pain throbbing in his shoulders, his arms were pretty numb. So was his ass from sitting for so long.
The stranger moved closer, then stopped.
Dean wanted to shout for the prick to untie him, but he’d learned quickly in life that being polite got him further than being an ass like Nolan had been. He still couldn’t believe Nolan had up and left him. Dean normally didn’t wish ill on anyone, but he hoped like hell Nolan got what he deserved.
Now all Dean had to do was get out of here alive.
His bladder twitched, reminding him of a more pressing concern. Since the stranger hadn’t moved any closer, as much as he hated to, Dean had to beg. “The guy here yesterday let me use the bathroom. I didn’t try anything. I really don’t want to piss myself. Not only would that be embarrassing, but in this heat…” He gave a shiver, revolted by the thought of sitting in urine-stained jeans—especially in this sweltering heat.
The stranger sighed before he came over and knelt before Dean to untie him. The guy jerked back upright, as if he’d been slapped. Dean frowned, wondering what in the hell was the matter now. “What’s wrong?”
He shouted as the stranger grabbed his hair, yanked his head to the side, and bit his shoulder.
“You son of a bitch!” Dean shouted. “When I get loose, I’m gonna kick your dick so far into you, you’ll be pissing out your mouth.”
Dean had done nothing but cooperate with these backwoods fuckers, and this was the thanks he got? Being attacked? Dean tried to kick his feet, but his ankles were still bound to the chair legs. “Get off me!”
What disturbed him most was that the bite wasn’t so much painful as it was pleasurable. Dean’s cock thickened as desire flooded his veins. No flipping way would he allow himself to be attracted to one of his captors—though he had to admit, if only to himself, that the men he’d encountered so far were freaking gorgeous.
Except for the guy Dean had tackled the day before. He’d had thick glasses and hadn’t been that good-looking, but Dean wasn’t one to judge.
The stranger pulled back, blinking rapidly as he stared down at Dean. “I…my bear…” He backed away, running a hand through his blond hair.
“You flipping bit me,” Dean snarled. His wrist was still recovering from when the guy he’d chased down had bitten him. It seemed Dean couldn’t escape bitters. “You broke skin, asswipe. For all I know, you could have rabies.” Dean struggled with the ropes, growing angrier by the second when he couldn’t free himself.
“Calm down,” the stranger snapped. “Keep acting like you want to take my head off and you’ll never get free.”
That stopped Dean. He glared at the guy. “I have to piss.”
“You attacked a mate and shot at my brother.”
“I shot a bear,” Dean argued. “Unless your brother is that fat and hairy.”
He knew what he’d seen, but Dean was still trying to come to grips with it. He wanted to dismiss the idea that men could change into bears, but his brain wouldn’t let him. He had seen the transformation with his own eyes.
“You can pretend all you want,” the stranger said. “But you know the truth.”
Dean fell silent. Arguing would get him nowhere. He’d bide his time until the right moment, then haul ass off these mountains. He should have never come here in the first place.
One thing that Nolan said was right—this line of work wasn’t for Dean. He’d felt that in his gut from the beginning, but his entire family had worked with the FBI in one capacity or another. They had expected, even demanded, that he do the same. They had mapped out his career for him the moment Dean was born.
Hell, he’d never considered any other career, never thought of what he wanted to do with his life. And now he just might die doing something he totally despised.
To his relief, the stranger untied him. He didn’t follow Dean outside, or even come to the door to keep an eye on him. Dean would’ve taken off, but Mother Nature overruled and he headed behind a tree.
What he wouldn’t give for a long shower and a cold beer. His arms were still stiff from being locked behind him for nearly twenty-four hours—with only a few minutes’ reprieve when he used the bathroom a few times yesterday. It took a good minute before he could get his zipper to cooperate. By then Dean was bouncing from one foot to the other, praying he didn’t piss himself. When he finally got his junk free, the relief on his bladder was a moment of pure bliss.
Looking over his shoulder, Dean saw that the stranger still hadn’t emerged from the cabin. Was the man-slash-bear that trusting? Dean didn’t take the guy as naïve and wondered why he wasn’t out there guarding him.
Dean wandered closer to the hallway, his bare feet pressing against the shiny wooden floor, telling himself he wasn’t heading for Trigger’s room. He was just trying to figure the guy out, see what kind of person Trigger was from the things he had in his home.
A well-stocked liquor cabinet sat against one of the walls. Dean’s mouth watered as he turned and spotted a shelf beside the cabinet. Shot glasses with funny sayings or names of different states on them lined the shelves, as though Trigger had collected them on his travels.
He even had one from Dean’s home state, Ohio. But he no longer lived there. He’d moved when he’d joined the bureau. Although there was an FBI office in Cleveland, Dean had wanted to get as far from his family as possible.
But what did he really have to go home to? Dean had no significant other, no pets, and no plants that needed watering. He didn’t even own a goldfish. Dean had his empty apartment and his job that he put too many hours into, yet got no reward out of.
His social life was nonexistent. Dean hated his job, so he didn’t hang out with any of the people at work. As he stood there analyzing his life, he realized just how lonely and boring it truly was.
He stopped when he reached Trigger’s bedroom door. It was ajar, and Dean heard light snoring just beyond it.
Don’t do it. Don’t go in there.
Dean forced himself to look away. He ran his hand over the pajama bottoms Trigger had given him to wear. His cock was hot and throbbing, tenting the thin material. He squeezed the head, giving a small gasp as his eyelids fluttered closed.
When was the last time he’d had sex? Oh yeah, it had been two months ago when he’d hooked up with some stranger he’d met in a seedy bar. That seemed to be all Dean did. Hookups and one-night stands. Not that he was against relationships, but he’d never found the right person, and his job ate up most of his time.
But how long had it been since Dean had had fuck-me-into-the-wall sex? God, forever.
You’re not getting that from Trigger, so back away from his bedroom.
Dean turned toward Trigger’s room.
Don’t do it!
He stepped closer until he could see past the crack between the door and the frame. He saw a long, white dresser with a large mirror attached. The only thing on the dresser was a digital alarm clock.
The wooden floor continued into Trigger’s room from the hallway, but a cream-colored rug covered a large portion of the floor. Dean pressed the tips of his fingers against the door and eased it open just a bit more. Trigger’s bed was situated between two large windows. The moonlight spilled into the room, illuminating it.
Dean bit his lower lip and squeezed his eyelids closed when he saw Trigger lying there, his bedding kicked aside, showing off his firm ass while he slept on his stomach.
Dean moved away until his back pressed into the wall. He took several deep breaths, still strangling the head of his cock. His pajama pants were wet with pre-cum as he tried to bring his galloping heart back under control.
Instead of creeping around Trigger’s home, Dean should have been escaping. He should have been working his way to civilization, not peeping at Trigger’s naked body.
As he stood there, Dean slid his hand down his aching erection, gripping the length in a firm hold. Why in the hell couldn’t he simply walk away, go jack off in the bathroom and relieve the pressure in his balls? The thought wasn’t even tempting. Not when he had a hard male body just beyond the wall he was pressed against.
He had no doubt Trigger wouldn’t turn him down if Dean went in there and slipped into bed beside him. He also had no doubt Trigger would give him the fucking of a lifetime.
Dean peeped around the doorframe, then quickly pulled back. God, the sight of Trigger’s bare ass had his hole pulsing to be filled. He remembered vividly what Trigger’s cock looked like. He’d seen the man naked in the woods. Had ogled Trigger’s prick for several long seconds.
And it was ogle-worthy.
Horny beyond sanity, Dean stroked himself through his pajama pants. He wasn’t sure how much more of this heat he could take. It was like walking through the fires of hell on hot coals. Every inch of his body was in flames.
But the harder he stroked himself, the more frustrated he became. It wasn’t his hand he wanted to feel on his cock. It wasn’t the hallway where he wanted to be.
Dean twisted to the side and peered back into the bedroom. Oh God! Trigger had turned over, and now his cock was exposed in the pale moonlight. This was complete torture.
Even soft, Trigger was well hung. Dean forced his feet to move, forced them to guide him back to the living room. He shoved his pants down to his thighs, spat on his hand, and jerked his prick until the skin felt raw, but his orgasm wouldn’t come.
Dean gasped when a hard wall pressed into his back. Trigger’s hand snaked around Dean’s body, smacking his own hand away as he curled his fingers around Dean’s erection.
Unable to resist, Dean leaned against Trigger’s firm body as Trigger slowly stroked him. He ran his lips over Dean’s heated skin, kissing along his neck, biting down gently on this shoulder.