Page 69 of Billionaire Lumberjack's Bargain

Hell.

When I walked into that bathroom and saw him like that, I certainly never expected I’d end up like this with him, mostly naked under my hands. Or that my body would react so damn inappropriately to it.

The man is inpain, he’ssuffering, and I’m starting to feel like a bitch in heat.

I squeeze my thighs together and shift on my knees, trying to work out the ache forming there without being obvious.

It’s the hormones.

It has to be.

You were the same way when you were pregnant with Davey…

I keep telling myself that.

The same way I did a thousand times while I sat beside Dalton in that bathtub after I glanced into the water and saw how hard his cock was straining against the wet fabric of his boxer briefs.

After I heard the break in his voice, when he begged meneverto consider leaving again.

It was all too much.

Too overwhelming when I’m already a hormonal and emotional mess.

And now I have my hands on him.

His hot, smooth skin and raised scars.

The hard, rippling muscles.

Stop thinking about it and justhelphim.

I shake my head to try to clear the images running through it, then reach up and press my hand against the middle of his shoulder blades, urging him down fully. “You need to relax.”

If he stays so tense, this isn’t going to benefit him at all. And since that’s the entire reason I’m putting myself through what is turning out to be both a test of my own strength and proof of how little control I have over my own body when I’m in this condition.

The dull throb between my legs continues as Dalton releases a deep sigh and collapses onto his chest, letting his arms fall out to his sides. He turns his head to the right, and his eyes drift closed.

Thick, dark lashes flutter against his cheeks, and I shift to the sides of his spine, digging into the tight muscles across his lower back that cut out across his ass.

Dalton winces and clenches his eyes and fists.

“Is it too much?”

He shakes his head, and his hands relax on the bed. “No”—he swallows audibly—“it feels so good. You have magic hands…”

I laugh lightly at his comment, and it feels so fake, so wooden, considering the tension building in me and in the room around us. “You’re not the first person who has said that.”

That thought helps cool my heated body slightly, but I don’t let myself go down the road that will lead to memories of the man I thought I’d spend the rest of my life with.

Just keep working onhim.

I’m careful not to press too hard in the places where I can feel the hardware, where his body was literally pieced back together after it was shattered.

An image of him as a child flashes through my head. A mop of sandy-blond hair. Green eyes rimmed with red from the constant tears of loss, pain, and fear.

It quickly morphs into Davey in the same situation.

Tears blur my vision, and I blink them away, trying desperately not to let my concern and my feelings that have grown for this man overwhelm my common sense. But he shifts under me, moving his hips in a way that makes my core clench around something that isn’t there.

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