Page 5 of Rescued By the Lumberjack

Not to say the thought of getting lucky is on my mind, but it doesn’t hurt to shave my limbs while staying with a guy who has a wildish appeal that is starting to grow on me.

Tearing open the package, I pluck one out, grab a towel and move to figure out the shower. I’ll have to see if he has any lotion, because I can only imagine how my skin is going to look once I get my pants off.

* * *

Once I’m sure I’ve soaked up every last drop of heat, I’m wobbling through his cabin once I’ve gotten dressed. He left me a buttoned up shirt large enough to be a dress. Moreembarrassingly, he gave me a pair of boxers. However, they look brand new.

I will not imagine his sister buying him underwear because he goes without them. No, this is purely great timing on my part.

“Grayson?” Calling out his name, silence welcomes me. Weird. I would not have thought he’d leave me by my lonesome, but it seems that’s the case. If I have to guess, he doesn’t think I’ll get far if I’m the type to have sticky fingers.

Has he changed his mind and decided to go out to find help before it gets gross out?

I’ve got no right in feeling upset. Not when he’s already done so much for me by letting me use his home as a shelter. So, if he changed his mind, then it is what it is.

Reaching the kitchen, my stomach rumbles at the thought of food. It wouldn’t be polite for me to raid his cupboards while he’s not around. Maybe I’ll ask for a snack as a parting gift.

Thankfully, there are no more dead animals within sight. Glancing at his freezer, I can only imagine how much game meat is inside. Does he fish too, while he’s at it?

A thump in the background catches my attention, pulling me over toward the window nearest to the sink. Leaning over the counter, I glance outside.

Finding Grayson with ease, I don’t find him in the same state I left him in. Guess he didn’t leave after all.

“Oh my…” Murmuring the words, I have to swipe my hand against the glass to get a better view.

Tainted shirt gone, anotherthwackfills the air as my savior strikes a log with an ax, splitting the piece into two. Grayson’s shirtless, sweat glistening on his skin, his chest heaving with exertion. His chest has more dark hair, less than the rest of him. However, the trail down toward his jeans seems to beckon me with a tantalizing allure.

I should be ashamed of ogling this man without him knowing, but I can’t help myself. My thighs are shifting, grazing the other as my pussy gets a foreign tingle. Is it normal to get aroused from just looking at someone this appealing?

I’m supposed to be forgetting about men, and here I’m wondering how to touch this one.

I know I’m making a mess of this trip, but the sights are so captivating, I’m completely mesmerized. Seeing the powerful arc of the ax, the way his muscles move, fuels the flames of my desire.

If Grayson ever left this mountain, he’d be swarmed by every single woman who catches a glimpse of him. Both old and young.

Jealousy nips at my chest, jealousy that shouldn’t be there.

Grayson isn’t mine to worry about other people discovering his existence. In truth, he seems like he’d rather no one knows about him.

Pulling myself away from the window before I drool, I limp toward his living room.

I shouldn’t be nosey, but I’m curious about the guy.

Picking around his books, I grimace at the amount of western-themed ones he owns. Not too much of a reader myself, I’m sure they’re great.

He’s got some photographs, confirming his relationship with Daisy. The few resting on the wall are from throughout the years, some with other faces I don’t know, some just them. One in particular catches my attention.

It’s Grayson without the beard. I’m sure of it. The eyes are the same. He’s holding Daisy in his arms, both siblings grinning at the camera. He’s wearing a uniform, a familiar camouflage pattern.

The sound of the door opening brings my attention away from the frames. Waddling toward his couch, I’m patting down the front of his shirt against my thighs by the time he appears.

He doesn’t look my way, not at first. Probably a good thing.

Shirtless, sweaty, Grayson was dangerous from a distance. Up close, this man is lethal and I’m getting more and more lightheaded the longer I stare his way. Talk about a freaking knockout.

Even the scent of this man makes things challenging. Why am I not repulsed by the earthy smell of sweat and hard work?

My toes curl into the carpet as he drops some chopped wood next to the large metal fire stove.

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