Page 12 of Challenged By the Rugged Lumberjack (Curvy Wives of Cedar Falls #2)

His sharp intake of breath is audible in the quiet room as I stand before him in just my bra and panties.

His eyes travel over me with such reverence that I feel beautiful despite the stretch marks on my hips from my pregnancy with Mason, despite the slight roundness of my belly where our second child grows.

"Your turn," I whisper, nodding toward his jeans.

He hesitates only a moment before unbuttoning them and pushing them down his muscular legs.

Now he stands in just black boxer briefs that do little to hide his arousal, his broad chest rising and falling with each deep breath.

The moonlight traces the contours of his tattoos—the tree that spreads across his shoulder and ribs, the timepiece circling his bicep, and others I couldn't see before.

I step closer, place my palm against his chest, feeling his heart thundering beneath my hand.

"You're nervous," I observe softly.

He nods, swallowing hard. "I’ll probably suck at this."

"We'll go slow," I promise, pressing a gentle kiss to his chest. "And if you want to stop at any point—"

"I won’t," he interrupts, his hands finding my waist, fingers splaying across my skin. "Just... afraid."

I smile up at him, touched by his vulnerability. "Let me lead, then."

I guide him to sit on the edge of the bed, his knees parting to make space for me as I stand between them.

Like this, even seated, he's nearly at eye level with me—a powerful reminder of his size, his strength.

I run my fingers through his dark hair, tilting his face up to mine for a slow, deep kiss that has him gripping my hips tighter, pulling me closer.

When I break the kiss, I hold his gaze as I sink to my knees before him. His eyes widen, pupils dilating until only a thin ring of brown remains.

"Elisa, you don't have to—"

"I want to," I assure him, hooking my fingers into the waistband of his boxer briefs. "I want to make you feel good. Will you let me?"

He nods, lifting his hips slightly so I can slide the fabric down his thighs. His erection springs free, thick and hard, larger than I expected. I wrap my hand around him, feeling him pulse against my palm, hearing his ragged inhale at the contact.

"Tell me what feels good," I murmur, stroking him slowly.

"Everything," he gasps. "Just... everything you're doing."

I smile, then lower my head to take him into my mouth.

The sound he makes—a deep, guttural groan that seems torn from the very core of him—sends heat pooling low in my belly.

His thighs tremble beneath my free hand as I move, taking him deeper, establishing a rhythm that has his breathing turning harsh and irregular.

"Elisa," he warns after several minutes, his voice strained. "I'm going to... you should stop..."

I pull back, looking up at him through my lashes. His face is transformed with pleasure—eyes half-closed, lips parted, cheeks flushed. I've never seen anything more beautiful.

"This is just the beginning," I promise, rising to my feet.

I try to push him back onto the bed, but it's like trying to move a mountain.

He barely budges, his solid frame immovable under my hands.

Then understanding dawns in his eyes, and he smiles—a flash of white teeth in the moonlight—before lying back on the mattress, his hands settling on my hips to steady me.

I reach behind me to unhook my bra, letting it fall away. His eyes darken further as he takes in my breasts, fuller now with pregnancy.

"Can I touch you?" he asks, his voice trembling.

"Please," I breathe.

His large hands cup my breasts, thumbs brushing over my nipples until I arch into his touch, a soft moan escaping me. I reach down to slide my panties off, then straddle his hips, his erection pressing hot and hard against my inner thigh.

"Am I too heavy?" I ask, suddenly conscious of my weight on his frame.

"You're perfect," he assures me, his hands stroking down my sides to rest on my thighs. Then his brow furrows slightly. "Is this... is it okay? With the baby?"

The concern in his voice makes my heart swell. "It's fine," I tell him, leaning down to kiss him softly. "Completely safe."

I rise up on my knees, positioning him at my entrance, then slowly lower myself onto him. The stretch of him filling me draws a gasp from my lips, echoed by his deep groan as I take him fully inside.

"Oh god," he breathes, his fingers digging into my hips. "Elisa, you feel... I can't even..."

"I know," I whisper, adjusting to the feeling of him inside me. "Just breathe. Feel everything."

I begin to move, rolling my hips in a slow, sensual rhythm that has both of us panting. Josh watches me with awe, his hands moving over my body—cupping my breasts, caressing my belly, gripping my ass as I increase the pace.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs, the words sounding like they've been pulled from somewhere deep inside him. "So perfect."

I arch my back, taking him deeper, feeling the tension building inside me with each movement. Josh's breathing grows more ragged, his thighs tensing beneath me, his grip on my hips tightening in a way that will likely leave marks—marks I'll welcome, evidence of this night, this connection.

Suddenly, he sits up, arms wrapping around me as he claims my mouth in a desperate kiss.

The change in angle has me crying out against his lips, pleasure spiraling through me in dizzying waves.

Then, in a display of strength that leaves me breathless, he flips us over so that I'm beneath him, my back against the cool sheets, his powerful body covering mine.

He braces himself on his forearms, careful not to crush me, creating a space between us where moonlight and shadow play across our joined bodies.

"Is this okay?" he asks, always checking, always making sure.

"Yes," I gasp, wrapping my legs around his waist, urging him deeper. "Please, Josh. Don't stop."

He begins to move, finding his rhythm, each thrust sending sparks of pleasure through my body. I run my hands over the broad expanse of his back, feeling the muscles flex and release beneath my fingertips, marveling at the controlled power in every movement.

"Elisa," he groans, his pace increasing. "I can't... I'm going to..."

"It's okay," I whisper, cradling his face in my hands. "Let go. I've got you."

"I can't hold back anymore," he warns, voice trembling with the effort of restraint.

"Don't," I urge, tightening around him. "Let go inside me. I want to feel you."

With a deep, broken sound that might be my name, he drives into me one final time.

I feel him pulsing inside me, the throbbing of his release triggering my own climax.

I cling to him as pleasure washes over me in relentless waves, my body arching beneath his, my cries mingling with his ragged breathing.

For several moments afterward, we remain joined, our heartbeats gradually slowing, our breathing evening out. Josh presses his forehead to mine, his eyes closed, an expression of such profound peace on his face that it brings tears to my eyes.

"Was that okay?" he asks finally, his voice a hushed rumble in the quiet room.

I laugh softly, cupping his cheek. "That was perfect. You're perfect."

He moves to the side, careful not to crush me, keeping one arm draped over my waist. I turn to face him, our bodies still pressed close, legs tangled together.

"I've never felt anything like that," he admits, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "Never knew it could be like that."

"Like what?" I ask, curious about how he experienced this moment.

He considers this, his thumb tracing the curve of my cheek. "Like... coming home. Like finding something I didn't know was missing." He shakes his head slightly. "That sounds ridiculous."

"No," I assure him, pressing a kiss to his palm. "It doesn't. I felt it too."

We lie together in comfortable silence, the moonlight painting silver stripes across the bed, our breathing synchronizing without conscious effort. His hand rests over my belly, a gesture so natural it seems he's been doing it forever, not just for the first time tonight.

"I feel safe with you," I whisper, the admission slipping out unbidden. "I haven't felt safe in... I can't remember how long."

His arm tightens around me, pulling me closer. "You are safe. You and Mason and the baby. I promise."

I believe him. Despite knowing him for only forty-eight hours, despite all logic and caution, I believe him with a certainty that should frighten me but somehow doesn't. Perhaps because I've seen the man he is—with Mason, with me.

A man of principles and unexpected gentleness, of steady strength and careful consideration.

"Stay," he murmurs against my hair, the word somewhere between a request and a prayer. "Not just for now. Stay for good."

"Yes," I answer, the simplest and most honest word I can offer. "Yes."

As sleep begins to claim me, cradled in the warmth and safety of his embrace, I realize something with startling clarity: This cabin on a mountainside in a town I barely know has become more of a home in forty-eight hours than anywhere else has been in years.

Because home isn't just a place. It's a feeling. A certainty. A knowledge that you belong somewhere, with someone, in a way that defies explanation but feels irrefutably right.

And here, with Josh, I belong.