Page 10 of Falling for the Lumberjack

Her eyes widened just slightly.

Good.

Let her realize just how close she was to losing control of this game. Let her understand exactly what she was asking for.

My voice was low, rough. “You have no idea how fucking bad I want you.”

Her breath hitched, the sound small and vulnerable in the quiet cabin. Another crack in her confident facade.

My cock twitched. Hard. Full. Unmistakable. Straining against my jeans in a way that left no doubt about my desire.

Her body stilled, waiting.

Waiting for me.

I leaned in, my lips just a whisper from her ear. Close enough to feel the heat radiating from her skin. Close enough to smell the sweet scent of her shampoo beneath the lingering smell of rain.

“You don’t play with a man’s control, sweetheart,” I murmured. “Not unless you want to find out exactly what happens when he loses it.”

She shivered. Shivered. The small movement traveled through her body, a visible ripple of need that matched my own. And fuck if that didn’t threaten to snap something inside me like nothing else had. My hands dug into the mattress beside herhips, trying to hold on to what little was left of my restraint. “Go to sleep, Carter,” I said, my voice bare, almost broken.

She exhaled, slow and measured. Her chest rising and falling beneath my shirt. Her eyes never leaving mine. “What if I don’t want to?”

I clenched my jaw so tight it hurt. “You do.”

A beat of silence.

Then she whispered again, “No, I don’t.”

Fuck.

The words hung between us, a challenge I couldn’t accept. Not if I wanted to maintain any semblance of control. Not if I wanted to walk away from this with my sanity intact.

I pushed off the bed, storming to the other side of the cabin, trying to put some damn distance between us. The whole time, I could feel her watching me. Studying the way my body was fighting for control, the way my fists clenched at my sides, the way I was doing everything in my power not to come apart at the seams.

Because I had rules.

Even if Sally Carter was made to break them.

I grabbed the spare blanket, tossed it on the couch and laid down, throwing an arm over my eyes. Blocking out the sight of her in my bed. Trying to block out the knowledge that she was just a few feet away, warm and willing and wanting me.

She laughed.

Soft. Amused. Back to knowing.

“Goodnight, McAllister,” she purred, the sound seeping into my blood like a drug.

And in that moment I knew.

I was so fucking fucked.

CHAPTER THREE

Sally

I was supposed to be getting out of here. That was the plan. But Mother Nature apparently had other ideas.

I’d spent the night curled up in a bed that smelled like him. Pine, fresh air, and that undefinable scent that was purely Landry. Hours had passed with me breathing him in, my body aware of his presence just a few feet away on that too-small couch. Listening to the wind roar through the trees.

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