Page 7 of Protected By the Lumberjack
My hand touches the back of his before he can pull away, and then I have his hand in mine. Pulling it toward my chest, I wrap my fingers around his thicker ones, enjoying the feel of the calluses that punctuate the leathery skin of hands that have been working their whole life.
"Honey."
It's become my name now and I'm getting used to the sound of it from people around town, but when Carver says it, it still sounds intimate.
He turns toward me and watches as I lift his fingers to my lips. I will myself to look up at him. Kaleidoscope eyes full of dark forest colors are laser focused on my lips. His throat works in a rough swallow. His jaw is tense under the neatly trimmed silver beard.
"What if..." His voice is thick; emotional and strained and he lets that thought die on the air between us but he doesn't move a muscle.
We both knowwhat if. I'm just done denying myself what I want just in case we ever find outwhat if.
"It's been over a month since that plane when down, Carver. Someone knew I was on that plane. Someone other than that pilot. Surely? It's been almost two weeks since Sheriff Henderson started the investigation into me-- no one is looking for me."
Carver lets me take a step closer to him. My hand places his against the side of my face. It moves to wrap around the back of my head without my guidance.
"You could be married. You could have a family somewhere, children missing their mother... a husband..."
"I don't."
"How can you be so sure?"
The medical examinations were thorough, looking for signs of assault or whatever other clues all that poking and prodding could provide.
"The doctors said there's no indication I've ever been pregnant. I didn't have a ring on. There's no tan lines suggested I ever did.
"Carver-- what kind of husband wouldn't have filed a missing persons' report when I didn't arrive in Seattle? I don't think there's anyone out there missing me. And-- I want this."
Carver
Thick lashes flutter over irises that have darkened to a dusky indigo with her pupils blown wide the way they are.
Honey tips her head back, leaning into my touch in a way that has my entire body lit up on fire.
She has a point.
Or maybe I just want her too badly to keep letting my good sense get in the way. Whatever might be left of my reasons for resisting her are gone as she stretches up on her tip toes to test her lips against mine.
Honey sweet. Irresistible.
It's impossible for me not to kiss her back.
My hand moves around to the back of her neck, my fingers threading through her soft hair as I pull her into me. My other hand snakes around her waist, closing whatever distance was left between us.
I let her part my lips with hers, the tip of her tongue slipping into my mouth like a question that I'm eager to answer with a yes.
Any control I was holding on to snaps when Honey's fingers grab at my waist. I take the kiss from the cautious question it began as to a hungry exclamation point, pushing her back to the counter and pressing myself against her. I want her to know what she does to me.
The hard rod digging into the soft curve of her belly should be clear enough.
"I want this too," I gasp when I force my mouth off hers. "Fuck, Honey, I wanted you the moment you stumbled into my camp. God help me for thinking you were mine the second I saw you, but I did."
"Then show me, Carver." She reaches up and wraps her arms around my neck, keeping me bent low so I can't escape those lips long enough to come to my senses.
"Show me what it means to be yours."
I should take her to my bed where I can lay her down on the comfortable mattress and where there'd be plenty of room to kneel between her legs and drink my fill of her. This woman deserves to be spread out and worshipped, but I've been holding back for too damn long.
Honey's fingers trail along the back of my neck, and down my chest. They slip under the edge of my t-shirt and dance over my pecs, across my tight nipples, down my abs like she's counting the damn things, then she begins popping the buttons on my jeans.
