Page 8 of Falling for the Lumberjack

I was surprised—and disappointed—that she obeyed the growled command. The shirt swallowed her, hanging loose on her curvy frame. But somehow, seeing her in my clothes was worse. More intimate. More possessive.

“What about you?” she asked, pulling the hem down over her wide hips.

The movement drew my eyes like a starving man. I dragged my eyes back to hers, forcing myself to focus on her face instead of the curves now hidden beneath my shirt. “What about me?”

She nodded toward me, her eyes traveling over my damp clothes with deliberate slowness. “You have on wet clothes too.”

I grunted, not trusting my voice with actual words. “I’m used to it.”

“Well, I don’t want you getting sick on my conscious either. Take off your shirt.” Her gaze met mine, bold anddeliberate. Challenging. She was pushing me. Pushing hard. Testing boundaries I’d carefully constructed to keep her—the one woman who made me want impossible things—at a safe distance.

Slowly, as if I had all the time in the world, as if my body wasn’t springing to life beneath her gaze, I unbuttoned the damp flannel shirt. Each button felt like a surrender, a concession in a battle I was rapidly losing.

I watched her watching me. Watched the way she bit her lip, the way her breath hitched. The way her pupils dilated, black overtaking brown. Saw how her damn nipples became hard diamond points beneath her bra. The way her tongue darted out to wet her lips, a small, unconscious gesture that sent heat straight to my groin.

What the hell were we doing? Playing some kind of twisted game of truth or dare?

I knew her truth. I knew mine.

She wanted this.

I wanted her.

“Are you going to share your food, or do I have to beg?”

Fuck.

That thought nearly snapped my control.

The image of her on my bed, begging me to take her. To touch her. To claim her. Those eyes, challenging even in submission. That mouth, forming my name like a prayer. It was too much.

I grabbed another shirt and pulled it over my head, using the brief moment it covered my face to compose myself. To lock away the beast that was clawing at my restraint.

“Go sit down.” I walked back to the stove, quickly filling two bowls with the soup. I sat them on the table, along with some crackers and spoons. Mundane tasks. Normal things. As if there was anything normal about this situation.

The soup was supposed to be a distraction. A way to cool the fire she’d been stoking in my gut since the second she’d driven onto my land. Hell, the second that I had seen her, months ago, standing behind that counter with fire in her eyes.

It wasn’t working. Nothing had worked. Not distance. Not coldness. Not pretending I didn’t notice every damn thing about her.

I forced myself to focus on my food, slow and steady, ignoring the way she kept sneaking glances at me. The way her spoon would pause halfway to her mouth when she thought I wasn’t looking. The way her tongue would dart out to catch a drop on her lower lip.

Finally, she broke the silence. “That was one big ass tree that fell. Right across the road.”

I exhaled hard. “Yep.” One syllable. Safe. Controlled.

“And you can’t possibly move it tonight?”

I arched a brow. “What do you think? It’s getting dark and it’s raining.” And dangerous. Too dangerous to be out there with chainsaws in this weather. Not that I would risk Sally’s safety for all the comfort in the world.

“So, just to recap.” She flicked a glance around the cabin, her eyes settling briefly on the bed before returning to me. “We’re stuck. Together. All night. In a one-room cabin. With one bed.”

I didn’t like the way she said that.

Didn’t like the way the words hung in the air between us, loaded with possibility.

Didn’t like the way she was looking at me now, more than a hint of want clouding her gaze. I’d kept her at arms’ length for a reason. So that she wouldn’t wind up in my bed. So that I wouldn’t have to face the temptation of her, warm and willing and so close I could touch her.

She was enjoying the situation. The corner of her mouth curled up in a small, knowing smile. Like she could read everythought crossing my mind. Like she knew exactly how hard I was fighting myself.

---