Page 77 of Jealous Lumberjack

“Need you to stop doing that, baby. You’re fucking sore, but I won’t be able to help it if you carry on like that.”

True, but I grin wickedly, swaying my hips. “Hmm. I don’t know. Maybe my pussy needs more training on how to take you on the daily.”

The sound that rips out of him is pure Grizzly. His cock is already straining the front of his jeans, his chest rising like he’s about to lunge.

Then, with a curse, he tears his gaze away, palms dragging down his face. “Heading out. The wood won’t fucking chop itself.”

And he almost runs from the room, adjusting his massive rod like a man managing a third leg.

I collapse onto the bed, giggling, clutching the dress to my chest.

My Bear. My beautiful, bashful, feral Bear.

He stepped out of his comfort zone.

For me.

And tonight, we’re going to the fair.

16

KNOX

We’re parked.

The engine’s off.

I should be getting out, but my hands are locked around the steering wheel like it’s the only thing tethering me to the universe.

People are already looking.

It’s been all of thirty seconds since we pulled in, and I can feel their eyes on us through the windshield. On me. On her.

Mostly on her.

And fuck, why wouldn’t they?

My petal’s sitting next to me in that blue dress I picked out, and it looks like it was sewn just for her. Cinches at the waist and flares over her hips, the hem brushing the tops of her thighs when she shifts.

Soft cotton, delicate as the flowers she loves, hugging every curve I worship.

And the boots.Christ. The brown leather clings to her calves, sturdy and practical and the sexiest thing I’ve ever fucking seen.

Exactly what I want her wearing when I bend her over later and bury myself inside her. Boots still on. Dress pushed up. Mycock shoved deep into what’s mine as she screams for mercy that won’t come.

I drag in a breath, fighting the urge to growl loud enough to shake the damn truck.

Beside me, she sits quietly, a serene smilepinnedon her gorgeous face.

Hell, she’s not even fidgeting or anxious to get going, just sits quietly, giving me the space to get myself together.

God, I love her for that.

She doesn’t even know how much.

Her hand finds my arm, warm and soft. “It’s going to be fine,” she says, voice steady. Like she’s talking to a skittish animal she doesn’t want to spook.

And the worst part? It works.