Page 11 of Teased By the Lumberjack

As sleep finally claims me, I tighten my arms around her, a silent promise to protect not just her, but the world she's fighting so hard to save.

Nearby, that damn woodpecker drums its approval.

CHAPTER 5

TEAGAN

The tent is illuminated in yellow and gold like we’re nestled in the center of the sun. Connor’s arm lies heavy over my waist, breath hot on the back of my neck. I trace his corded forearms, my body aching pleasantly, the soreness a reminder of how completely I’d surrendered to him.

To us.

A foreign sensation bubbles up inside me—something beyond mere attraction or affection. It scares me how quickly he’s gotten under my skin, past all my defenses.

His beard scratches my shoulder when he stirs, his morning erection pressing insistently against my lower back.

Oh god.

Heat pools between my thighs. I bite my lip, as I slowly rock against him. His breath hitches, eyelashes fluttering against my ear, but he keeps up the charade of sleep. Boldness surges through me—a heady cocktail of post-orgasm confidence and the lingering musk of him clinging to my skin.

I roll onto my knees, straddling his hips. His eyes snap open, so blue and hungry.

“Morning,” I whisper, trailing fingers through the silver-dusted hair on his chest.

He grips my thighs, thumbs circling inward. “You’re playing with fire, Smokey.”

“I can take the heat.” I lean down to nip his earlobe, relishing his growl. “Stay still.”

His hands fall away, fisting the sleeping bag as I kiss down his sternum. When I reach the trail of hair below his navel, he stops me with a choked noise. “Teagan?—”

I glance up through my lashes. “Please. Iwantto. Show me how.”

His Adam’s apple bobs. “Christ alive,” he whispers before gently guiding me.

My first tentative lick steals his ability to speak. Slowly, he continues, his instructions husky and patient. His hips jerk, a ragged“fuck”tearing from his throat as I take him deeper. Salt and musk explode on my tongue, his groans vibrating through me. Every gasp, every twitch of his abs feeds the power thrumming in my veins. When his fingers tangle gently in my hair, not pushing, just stroking, warmth blooms in my chest.

“Teagan—baby—that’sso good. I’m close?—”

I swallow him down, hollowing my cheeks. Then I slide up, swirling my tongue around his tip, and back down until he’s writhing beneath me. I guess I’m a fast learner.

Once more of that move, and he loses control, shouting my name as he comes. Satisfaction courses through me—pride in bringing this mountain of a man to the edge and pushing him over.

He collapses back, chest heaving, as I crawl up to kiss him.

“My god, you are some kind of naughty angel,” he pants, staring into my eyes. He urges me to lie next to him. “I need to tell you something.”

My stomach knots. Here it comes—the morning-after regret I’ve always heard about.

But instead, he says, "Been thinking about your research. And my camp."

I blink, thrown by the shift. "What about them?"

He sits up, bringing me with him. The sleeping bag pools around our waists as he reaches for his pack, pulling out a battered notebook, and a pair of glasses that he slides on.

As if he could get any hotter.

"Last night," he says, flipping through pages filled with rough sketches, "while you were asleep, I was thinking."

"Shocking."

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