Page 16 of Wed By the Lumberjack

“We’ve been separated for an eternity or so it feels in my mind.” I tap my temples. “I want to be close to you. I want to be with you. I feel like I’ve been missing you for ages.”

He shakes his head slowly but the longing in his eyes is impossible to ignore. “I feel the exact same way. You have no idea.”

I reach for his hand and put it on my breast over my heart. “So give me an idea. Make me feel. Make me remember.”

“I’m sorry, peanut,” he says, eyeing the hurt expression I’m trying to hide. “But that right there is the problem. You’ve lost your memory. You don’t remember me.”

“So let me remember you,” I say, pulling him down toward me.

He comes of his own volition, squeezing my waist and lifting me an inch off the floor; my yelp quickly fades into a moan as he presses a kiss to my lips.

I wrap my legs around his waist and his hands slide to my ass, but this time he isn’t hesitant to touch it. He grips me like I’m about to disappear and I grind against him just as he slips his tongue into my mouth.

The more I move, the closer those calloused fingers inch towards my aching center where I want to feel him the most.

“Dixie...”

Another twist of my hips gives me what I want as his middle finger swipes against my slit, sending a shiver straight up my spine. I pull on his hair, grinding against him harder, desperate to feel release, to connect with my husband. “Maybe you should help me shower?”

“Maybe...” his voice rasps in my ear.

“I am injured, after all.”

“Yes, you are,” he says as if trying to convince himself that it’s a good idea. “I’d hate for you to hurt yourself when I can take care of you.”

“You’ve always taken care of me. Haven’t you?” I whisper and those words seem to seal his resolve.

He grips my thighs harder, carrying me to the bathroom, and kissing my neck the whole time. With each step, I bounce against him, the friction driving me crazy.

When we get to the shower, I slide down his body. “I want to see you,” I say, reaching for his top button and exposing more tattoos that span the width of his chest.

I follow them down his arms all the way to his fingers as I tug the shirt off and toss it aside. The moment I reach for his belt though, he tenses, his jaw clenching again. I lean in and pepper kisses on his chest, trailing them right down to that thin strip of hair that disappears inside his jeans as I get to my knees.

Those strong inked fingers sink into my hair, and his grip makes me wonder if he’s going to push me away or pull me closer as I strip off his belt and unbutton his jeans. It’s only when I’ve rolled down his boxer briefs and his rock-hard cock nearly whips me in the face do I get my answer.

“You said you wanted to see,” he says, his voice heavy with constraint as he tugs me to my feet.

“But–”

“Dixie,” he growls in warning, but it does nothing to ward me off. It just makes me wetter. “Get in the shower.”

And I do. I stand like a good girl under the stream the moment it turns warm.

Heath stands behind me, his front flushed to my back. His cock digging into my spine, yet I’ve never been so happy to be stabbed before.

The familiar smell of peonies and roses fills the air as Heath grabs a bottle of soap. My soap. Another memory.

A shiver wracks my spine as he works it into a lather between his hands and begins massaging my neck. The way he squeezes it gently but firmly lets me know that my earlier thoughts were right.

There’s no way this man is shy. He’s possessive, primal. I want him to own me.

His fingers glide to my collarbones, then down to my breasts where he rolls my nipples in slow teasing circles. I might come just from this.

Just when I think I’ll get my release, he moves down the curves of my waist before focusing his attention on my back. He slides his hands down to my ass, caressing me gently before grabbing me harder and lifting me up against the shower wall. He holds my neck in one hand and devours my mouth, controlling my movements.

He teases his fingers against the inside of my thighs in soft strokes that make me desperate for him to take me already. I grind against him and slide lover against his public bone, needing more friction. I’m so close that it wouldn’t take much.

The second I feel his cock rubbing against my slit, he presses my back against the cold shower tile, his chest crushing my breasts.

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