“Sure,” he says, caustic. “Never brought my woman around them, though. So no, I’m not convinced it’s going to be fine, petal.”
My woman.
That slams through me hotter than it should. His tone’s sharp, his eyes wild, and I shouldn’t like it.Shouldn’t.
But I do.
Heat coils low in my belly, shameful and thick. I squirm in my seat, not-so-secretly thrilled at his caveman jealousy.
Then his mouth twists. “Need another kiss, woman. Keep me from going fucking insane.”
Before I can answer, he drags me across the bench seat and into his lap.
His mouth devours mine, hot and dirty, his tongue plunging past my lips like he owns me. I moan against him, my thighs straddling his jeans.
His hand slides under the flannel tied at my waist, under his T-shirt, pushing between my legs. I gasp when his fingers press into me, already wet, already wanting.
“That’s it,” he growls against my mouth. “Moan for me. Let them hear it when we roll up. Let them smell you on me. Let them know you’re mine.”
I whimper as his thumb circles my clit, his thick fingers stroking inside me. His beard scrapes my neck when he kisses down my throat, sucking hard enough to leave a mark.
“Bear—” I gasp, clutching his shoulders.
“Louder, petal,” he demands, curling his fingers just right.
I cry out, my body shuddering, release flooding his hand. My nails dig into his flannel, and he groans like I’ve fed him something he’s starved for.
When I sag against him, boneless and shaking, he pulls his hand free, smears my slick through his beard, then on his jeans, and grips the wheel again with the same hand.
His breathing slows. His shoulders ease.
The storm in him shifts to something calmer, darker, satisfied.
He smirks, eyes on the road again. “Promise me you’ll stay in the truck. Don’t know how I’ll feel if they see you like this.”
I shiver, ashamed and aroused all over again.
Because a part of me wants them to see.
Knox
Gravel crunchesunder the tires as I bring the truck to a stop. It’s not far enough away from the other men’s trucks for my liking, but that can’t be helped.
The logging men are already there, stacked in their pickups, axes and saws gleaming.
I kill the engine and let the silence stretch.
Heads turn. A few nods. A few stares.
Then they see Lily.
She’s still in my seat, on my lap, with her hair tangled from my hands, cheeks still flushed. She looks wrecked and innocent all at once, and my chest tightens.
They’re looking... staring too fucking long.
I squeeze Lily’s hip once more, just to feel her softness, then pick her up and set her back in her seat. “Not going far. Stay put.”
The growl’s already in my throat when I climb out. My shadow stretches across the ground, and most of them get the hint. Eyes drop and the mutters freeze up.
