Page 13 of Praised By the Lumberjack

My words trigger her release. She shatters beneath me, crying out my name as waves of pleasure wash over her. The sight of her coming undone, combined with the exquisite sensation of her walls pulsing around me, pushes me over the edge.

“Fuck, Hazel,” I groan. “I’m going to come. Be my good girl and take it all for me.” I follow her into ecstasy, burying myself deep as I spill inside her, her name torn from my throat in a ragged groan.

When I finally pull my cock from her, I pull her close and kiss the top of her head. A sudden peace settles over me, so complete and perfect it almost frightens me with its intensity.

"Stay," I say suddenly, the word escaping before I can talk myself out of it. "Not just tonight. Be with me. Officially. Exclusively. Forever"

Hazel lifts her head to look at me, her eyes searching mine. "Are you sure? It's so fast..."

"I've never been more certain of anything," I tell her, cupping her face in my hands. "I know it's fast. I know it defies logic. But what's between us—it's special, Hazel. Once-in-a-lifetime special. I don't want to waste a single day pretending it's anything less than what it is."

"And what is it?" she asks, her voice soft but steady.

I take a deep breath, offering her my heart without reservation. "The beginning of everything."

seven

Flint

Iwakebeforedawn,my heart beating a steady rhythm of anticipation. Beside me, Hazel sleeps peacefully, her red curls spread across the pillow, her face relaxed in slumber. I take a moment to study her features—the delicate curve of her eyebrow, the constellation of freckles across her nose, the soft fullness of her lips. Every detail of her has become precious to me in a way I never thought possible.

Carefully, I slip from beneath the covers, trying not to disturb her. She stirs slightly, reaching toward the empty space I've left. Even in sleep, she seeks me out. The simple gesture tightens something in my chest.

It's been just a month since she walked into Timber! that night, looking lost and a little defeated after being stood up. Just a month, but in that time, she's transformed my life completely. My cabin, once merely a place to sleep, has become a home. Her books line my shelves, her favorite mug sits beside mine in the cabinet, and traces of her vanilla scent linger in every room.

I move quietly through our shared space, putting my plan into motion. The small velvet box in my pocket feels both weightless and impossibly heavy. I know most people would think I'm crazy—proposing after only a month. But most people haven't experienced what we have. Most people haven't found that instant recognition, that bone-deep certainty that comes along once in a lifetime if you're lucky.

The eastern sky begins to lighten as I prepare her tea, arranging everything in the insulated picnic boxI bought specifically for this morning. I've been planning this for a week, waiting for the perfect day. Clear skies, not too cold, the kind of sunrise that paints the world in colors that defy description.

I hear the soft pad of her footsteps before she appears, wrapped in my flannel robe. Her hair is tousled from sleep. My heart stutters at the sight of her. Will I ever get used to this? This rush of tenderness and desire every time I look at her? I hope not.

"What are you doing up so early?" she asks, stifling a yawn behind her hand.

I cross to her, drawing her into my arms and breathing in her sleep-warm scent. "I have something planned," I tell her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Get dressed. Something warm."

Curiosity sparks in her eyes. "Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise," I say, unable to suppress my smile. "Trust me?"

"Always," she replies without hesitation, and that simple word fills me with a warmth no fire could match.

Twenty minutes later, we're driving up the winding mountain road, Hazel sipping the tea I made her. She doesn't pepper me with questions about our destination, doesn't try to guess or coax the answer from me. She simply sits beside me, content in the silence, trusting me to lead us somewhere worthwhile. This quiet confidence in me, in us, still amazes me.

I park at the trailhead and guide her up the short path to the overlook. The morning air is crisp, our breath visible in small, ephemeral clouds. I take her hand, our fingers intertwining naturally. The simple connection grounds me, steadies my racing heart.

"This is beautiful," she breathes as we reach the clearing. Below us, the town spreads out like a miniature model, surrounded by forests that climb the surrounding mountains. The sun crests the eastern ridge, gilding everything in soft gold light.

"I come here to think," I explain, leading her to the wooden bench at the edge of the clearing. "When life gets complicated or when I need perspective. It's my favorite place."

We sit together, watching the sunrise paint the sky in watercolor washes of pink and orange. Hazel leans against me, her head on my shoulder. The trust in that simple gesture means everything to me.

"Thank you for sharing this with me," she says softly.

The moment has arrived. I take a deep breath, turning to face her, taking both her hands in mine. "Hazel," I begin, looking into those blue eyes that saw through all my defenses from the first moment. "Before you walked into Timber! that night, I was just going through the motions of living without really being alive. And then there you were, throwing axes badly and blushing so beautifully when I called you a good girl."

She laughs softly, that perfect blush spreading across her cheeks. "I was a disaster that night."

"You were perfect," I correct her, squeezing her hands gently. "Perfect then, and every day since. You've brought something into my life that I didn't even know was missing. Joy. Purpose. A reason to wake up excited about the day ahead."

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