Dean’s head was in a damn tizzy. With all the Croats going around, he can’t afford to be making out with the girl he hates— but he did, he’d been arguing with you one second and the next you’d both stepped forward, lips collided and you both had rolled with it. God, he hated you, but you were one hell of a kisser.

The moment you’d stepped foot on his camp, you and that sexy ass had been going against him and his orders, arguing with him— maybe it’s cause you both were too damn similar. And too damn attracted to each other, even if you both refused to admit it, but you did seem to get on better with everyone else. It was really annoying.

He’d called you to his cabin to talk — more like argue — about the situation, about how you two’s made out multiple times, which couldn’t happen again. Even if your lips felt amazing, even if he cracked a smirk when he found his jacket smelled like you— nope, stop. Let’s halt that right there— you came in, ah, fuck, that’s not meant to happen.

Dean had to look away from you as you walked into his cabin — there’s that annoying face he hated so much — but also from the hands that had grabbed his jacket and yanked him in. Ok, he was the hard, ruthless leader of a survival camp, not a sucker for a woman’s body. Especially if that woman’s you, he just didn’t have time to MacGyver this one. It needed to end now, no getting whipped for a woman’s lips.

"This needs t’stop," he frowned, folding his arms— oh, that’s just his attempt to not seem into you, "now.” Yeah, this wasn’t helping, you were still hot as hell— nope, frustrating as hell. Shit, this is getting hard.

“Stop.” How he cocked a gun, with those pouty lips, deep voice and green eyes? You might not be able to stop.