Page 8 of Teased By the Lumberjack

"And tradition means nothing? Experience means nothing?" The muscle in his jaw jumps. "My family's been working these kinds of mountain landscapes for generations. You think we don't know the patterns? The cycles?"

We're both breathing hard now, the tent charged with a different kind of electricity than before.

"I know more than you think," I say finally, voice lower.

"And I care more than you think." His eyes are fierce in the dimming light.

Silence falls, heavy with unspoken words. The rain has gentled to white noise, no longer the violent barrage of before.

Connor runs a hand over his beard. "Let's just... get some sleep. Rain should be cleared by morning."

"Fine," I mutter, crawling toward my sleeping bag.

"Fine." He turns his back to me, settling into his own makeshift bed on the other side of the tent. But the space between us might as well be miles.

Somewhere between anger and aching want, sleep drags me under.

CHAPTER 4

CONNOR

Iwake in the dark to a warm body pressed against me. Teagan’s migrated across the tent floor in her sleep, her body seeking heat like a flower turning toward the sun.

Her ass fits snug against my hips, all soft heat and restless motion, even in sleep. But now—Christ—she arches her lower back, grinding into me with a breathy sigh that shoots straight to my cock.

Fuck.

Rain still patters softly on the tent, but the violent storm has passed. I should move away. Give her space. That’s what a gentleman would do.

But I’m no gentleman.

Instead, I inhale that lavender scent of her hair.

I start to shift away, but she murmurs something unintelligible. My hands splays wider across her stomach, feeling the rise and fall of her breathing beneath my sweatshirt—the one she’s still wearing, the fabric bunched up to reveal her bare skin above my pajama bottoms.

She’s gonna wake up and think I’m a total creep.

I’m painfully hard, and there’s no hiding how much I want her. And I do want her. Not just physically—butallof her. The fiery opinions, the passion for her work, the stubborn determination to protect what she loves. Even when she’s calling me an ecological disaster.

“Connor?” Her voice husky with sleep, makes my cock jump.

"Sorry," I whisper, starting to pull away. "You rolled over in your sleep. I was just?—"

"Don't." Her hand tightens on mine, keeping me in place. "Don't move."

“Teagan,” I rasp, my lips grazing the damp hair at the nape of her neck.

She turns in my arms, her face inches from mine now, those green eyes luminous in the dim light. "I'm sorry about earlier," she says, voice soft. "I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions about you."

Her sincerity floors me. I'd expected awkwardness, maybe anger at finding herself in my arms. Not this vulnerable honesty that cuts straight through my defenses.

"I'm sorry too," I murmur, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from her cheek. "For the 'city girl' comment. You clearly know your stuff."

Her lips curve into a smile. "So we're both assholes."

"Seems like it." I grin, then grow serious. "Look, Teagan, I should probably move back to my side before?—"

“You’re hard.” She interrupts, with a shiver.

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