Page 17 of Falling for the Lumberjack

“Faster,” she demanded, her nails raking down my back, leaving trails of fire in their wake. “Harder.”

I gave her both.

I pounded into her, our bodies slapping together, sweat slicking our skin. The bed creaked beneath us, the headboardthumping against the wall in a rhythm that matched our ragged breathing, our racing hearts.

Her legs locked around my waist, and I dipped down, kissing her deep as I drove her to another orgasm. Swallowing her moans, tasting her pleasure, feeling her body tighten around mine as she approached the edge.

She came with a scream, her inner walls clamping down so tight it was almost painful. The feeling of her coming apart beneath me, around me, was too much to bear.

I followed, groaning her name as I emptied inside her, pleasure crashing over me. For a moment, everything disappeared—the cabin, the storm, the world outside. There was only this. Only her.

When it was over, I stayed there, buried deep, breathing hard against her neck. The scent of her skin mingled with the smell of sex and sweat, creating a heady perfume that made me want to start all over again.

She was shaking, her body boneless under me, her hands making lazy patterns on my back. I could feel her heartbeat, fast and strong, in time with mine.

I kissed her temple, her cheek, her swollen lips. Small, tender gestures that felt foreign to my rough hands, my hard mouth. “You okay?” I murmured, studying her face for any sign of regret, of pain.

She smiled, lazy and satisfied. Like a cat who’d gotten the cream. Her eyes were soft with pleasure, but there was a spark of mischief in them that made my spent cock twitch with renewed interest.

“Better than okay.”

I rolled us to the side, keeping her close, her leg still hooked over my hip. I wasn’t ready to let her go. Wasn’t sure I’d ever be.

She traced lazy circles on my chest, her fingertips dancing over scars from years in the woods, mapping me the way I wanted to map her.

“Landry?”

“Yeah?”

“We’re not done.”

I grinned, dark and dangerous. Relief and desire and something deeper, something I wasn’t ready to name, thrumming through me.

“Not even close.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Sally

I woke up warm. And sore. In the best possible way.

Landry’s arm was heavy across my waist, his breath soft against the back of my neck. His chest was a wall of heat pressed against my spine, his hand splayed possessively over my stomach like he’d claimed the spot overnight.

The memories of the night before flooded back, sending a pleasant heat through my still-sensitive body. The way he’d touched me, the things he’d whispered against my skin, the way he’d looked at me like I was something precious and wild all at once.

There were bruises on my hips where his hands had held me down. Little marks on my throat and breasts from his mouth. Scratches down his back from my nails. The pleasant ache between my thighs that told me last night had been very, very real.

I shifted slightly, and his grip tightened. A low, sleepy growl rumbled against my skin.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he muttered, voice rough with sleep and sex and something else that made my stomach flip.

“Nowhere,” I whispered, settling back against him.

“Damn right.”

His mouth found my shoulder, pressing a lazy kiss there, then another—moving toward the curve of my neck like he couldn’t help himself. Like he wasn’t done with me yet.

I twisted in his arms to face him. “I kind of expected you to disappear before sunrise. Go brood by a tree or chop down something to repress your feelings.”

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