Page 13 of Falling for the Lumberjack

Or maybe I did, and I just didn’t want to admit it. He kissed me like he wanted me—reallywanted me—but then pulled away like it had been a mistake. LikeIwas a mistake.

I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the heat still burning low in my belly.

Maybe I’d read it wrong. Maybe I always read it wrong.

But no—no, I’d felt it. That kiss wasn’t one-sided. That wasn’t the kind of kiss you give someone if you’re indifferent. That was the kind of kiss that tears something loose.

So why did it feel likeIwas the one coming undone?

I leaned back against the table, pressing my fingers to my lips. They still tingled. My whole body did. Everything in me buzzed with unspoken questions and shaky hope.

What had he meant—If I take you, I take everything?

Was that a warning?

Or a promise?

I didn’t know. And worse—I didn’t know if I was ready for the answer.

But something had shifted between us, and whether it broke me or not, I knew one thing for certain.

Just like the storm that had picked up again, this wasn’t over.

Not even close.

CHAPTER FOUR

Landry

Sleep was a fucking joke.

I lay there on the couch, staring up at the ceiling beams, counting the knots in the wood, listening to the rain hammer the tin roof and the steady crackle of the fire. The sounds should have been soothing. Should have lulled me into unconsciousness. But I wasn’t tired. And I sure as hell wasn’t cold.

I was burning alive.

Every damn breath I took was thick with her scent. Rainwater, soap and…. Sally. Something sweet and sinful that made me stay hard, aching against the rough denim of my jeans. Like honeysuckle and heat, filling my lungs, clouding my mind with thoughts I had no business entertaining. But I couldn’t stop them. Couldn’t push them away. Not anymore.

I clenched my jaw and threw an arm over my eyes, but it was useless. The darkness behind my eyelids only made it worse—giving my mind freedom to conjure images I’d been fighting for months.

I’d been holding back since the second she walked through my door. Since the moment I first saw her, really. Keeping tight reins on desires I had no business feeling. But the second I saw her crawling into my sheets last night, wearing my shirt and those little scrap-of-nothing panties, her hair messy and wild from the rain, it was over.

I was done.

I swung my legs off the couch and sat forward, elbows braced on my knees, dragging in a slow breath that did nothingto calm the storm brewing inside me. The floorboards were cool beneath my bare feet, grounding me for a moment in reality rather than fantasy.

I could ride this out. Wait for morning, wait for my brothers to come clear the road, wait for her to drive away and pretend that none of this had happened. That I hadn’t kissed her today like a man drowning. That I hadn’t felt her body respond to mine with an eagerness that matched my own.

But there was no more pretending. No more lying to myself.

I wanted her.

And tonight, I was going to have her.

And when I did, I wasn’t going to be gentle because I fucking didn’t know how to do gentle.

I stood slowly, my feet silent on the worn floorboards as I crossed the room. I reached the edge of the bed and stared down at her. She was lying on her side, facing away from me, one arm under her head, the other curled close to her chest, her fingers tangled in the sheets. One long, bare leg was kicked free of the covers. The sight of her there, in my bed, surrounded by my things, sent a wave of possessiveness through me so fierce it nearly knocked me back.

That damn t-shirt barely covered her ass, riding up to expose the curve of her hip, the dip of her waist.

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