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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.