Page 16 of Jealous Lumberjack

My blood’s supposed to be boiling with anger. My rules have been broken, my trust mocked. But it’s not just anger racing through me—it’s hunger. Darker, deeper.

My body’s ready for a fight I’m not entirely sure I want to win. To toss five years of celibacy down the mountain like a kicked rock.

I spin away, stalking across the cabin before I forget myself completely. My chest heaves in a desperate breath while my cock strains heavy against my jeans, and I curse low.

Why am I not furious? Why does her defiance make me harder than I’ve been in five damn years?

The shadows lengthen as the sun washes over Eagle’s Crown.

I should check my traps. Put away the wood I chopped. Perform the dozen other chores she interrupted. But I stay in my armchair as the hours tick by.

She ate a fraction of the food I gave her, like the rabbit she is, then fought sleep even though it was clear she was exhausted.

At her first shiver, I stoked the fire, threw on more logs, kept my back to her.

The sun is setting now, and night will come soon. And with it, new rules.

Because a beautiful rabbit like her doesn’t stop running after one trap.

And I’ll be ready when she tries again.

Lily

The fire burns low,and hours tick by as more shadows climb the walls.

The beast moves around the space, bolting the door from the outside every time he steps out. And he’s never gone longer than a minute or two each time.

My skin still tingles from his threat. Another spanking if I step out of line. The way he’d looked at me when he said it—like he already had me bent over, begging. Heat coils low in my belly, shameful and hot.

He hasn’t even glanced at me after laying down his impossible rules. I sit curled on the sofa, glaring at the bolt on the door, the metal gleaming in the firelight like it’s laughing at me.

“Are you going to let me go?” I sound like a broken record.

His hard stare from the dining table, where he’s just finished devouring his supper, gives me the answer I need.

Crap.

“Will you let me go in the morning?” The question slips out before I can stop it, and I instantly want to bite my tongue. I just agreed to spend the night in the beast’s lair.

He finally looks at me, slow and deliberate. His gaze drops to my feet, lingering on the bandaged calf, the raw scratches across my ankles. His lip curls—not unkind but close enough to sting.

“How far d’you think you’ll get with your feet cut to ribbons?” His voice is blunt, almost mocking. “You didn’t even have a destination in mind when you came up here, remember? So where you gonna go?”

Heat rushes to my cheeks. He’s right. I hate that he’s right.

“Anywhere is better than being locked up,” I snap.

“No,” he rumbles. “It’s nighttime. I’m not going to chase after you if you get yourself caught in another trap.”

His voice dips low, rough. For the first time, I catch something behind the steel—worry. He hides it fast, his jaw tightening, but the words keep coming. “You’re lucky it was the snare that got you and not the bear trap.”

A shiver dances down my spine. “Bear trap?”

He leans back in his chair, eyes never leaving mine. “Or the deadfall. Or the spike pit.” His mouth twists. “Plenty out there worse than rope, rabbit.”

A shiver courses through me, but I shake my head. “You’re trying to scare me.”

Dark eyes trail over me, pausing at my chest and the inches of thigh exposed by my riding hem. “Just trying to keep that pretty skin intact, little rabbit.”