Page 31 of Challenged By the Ex-Military Lumberjack
"We're getting somewhere now. I'm not going anywhere."
Something in me snaps.
I can't do this anymore. Can't keep pretending. Can't keep holding everything so tight that I'm breaking from the inside out. I just poured my fucking heart out to her. I told her things I haven't told anyone, and my hands are shaking and my body is screaming and for the first time in six years, I want something. Want to do something for myself. Want to come back to real life instead of just surviving it.
I turn around.
She's right there. Close enough to touch. Looking up at me with those blue eyes that see too much, her lips parted, her chest rising and falling with each breath.
And I kiss her.
My hands come up to frame her face, palms against her cheeks, fingers sliding into her damp hair, and I crush my mouth to hers like a man who's been starving and just found food.
She makes a sound, surprise or relief, and then she's kissing me back.
Her hands grip my shirt, pulling me closer, and I angle her head to deepen the kiss. She tastes like the food we had earlier and when her lips part beneath mine, I don't hesitate. I sweep my tongue into her mouth, claiming, demanding, taking everything she's offering.
She melts against me. Her body soft and pliant and perfect against mine, and I can feel every curve of her through the thin fabric of my clothes. The swell of her breasts pressed to my chest. The way her stomach yields when I pull her tighter.
I should stop. Should pull back. Should remember all the reasons this is a terrible idea.
But I can't.
Because she's kissing me like she wants this just as much as I do. Like she's been waiting for this. Like I'm not too broken or too damaged or too much.
Her hands slide up from my chest to my shoulders, her fingers digging in, and when I feel her nails through my shirt, a groan rumbles up from my chest.
I break the kiss just long enough to look at her: to make sure this is real, that she's real, that I'm not imagining this. Her eyes are dark, pupils blown wide. Her lips are swollen and wet. Her chest is heaving.
"Eli," she breathes.
And I kiss her again.
Chapter 7 - Jade
He kissed me.
Eli Cross, this rugged, gruff, older man who looks like he could break the world in half. just kissed me. Put his huge hands on my face like I'm something precious and kissed me like he's been thinking about it for days.
And it feels incredible.
His mouth is demanding, claiming, and I'm kissing him back with everything I have because I don't want this to stop. Ever. I want to stay right here in this moment where nothing exists except his hands in my hair and his tongue in my mouth and the solid wall of his chest pressed against mine.
But even as I'm drowning in it, my brain kicks in.
What does this mean?
I'm not the type of girl who can just do this without knowing. I wish I were sometimes, wish I could just let go and take what I want without overthinking it. But I can't. I need to know what this is. What he wants. What happens after.
So, I pull back, my hands still fisted in his shirt. If I could, I'd have ripped it off a long time ago.
"Wait," I breathe.
He freezes immediately, his eyes searching mine. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong, I just—" I try to catch my breath. "What does this mean? To you. What are we doing here?"
His expression shifts. Closes off slightly. "Fuck. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"
