Page 65 of Fall Love

The rush between my thighs is heavy and fast, like the ocean rolled up the hill and between my legs. Tate keeps his fingers in me and moves behind me, rubbing against me, until he stills. His other arm wraps around my chest, and he lies against my back as he breathes heavily against me.

“Holy shit.” He leans his forehead against my shoulder.

“Did you . . .”

“How could I not?” He chuckles, rolling his head back and forth. “It was like having sex with my clothes on.”

Imagine if we took them off.

Although I don’t imagine he wants to see me naked.

However, he doesn’t immediately let me go. He peppers my shoulder with kisses, then the side of my neck, until he’s turning my head to kiss me again.

A kiss that reminds me of when we stood by the well.

Where I tasted how lonely he’d been.

Only we don’t taste like loneliness right now.

And that frightens me.

CHAPTER 24

[Neve]

The weekend brings LoggerFest, a celebration of lumberjacks and things related to the forest. Our local festival takes place up the mountain near a lake that Fisk Masters lives on. The day includes axe-throwing, log-rolling, wood-carving, and hundreds of Paul Bunyan wannabes in flannel shirts missing their sleeves. Muscles or not, men of all ages are showing off their arms.

This year’s theme is AXE-tion, and any other time I might be willing to play off that word.

But this year, I only have eyes for one man, whom I easily spot in the crowd.

Tate is with Landon and Fisk, plus Fisk’s older brother Rowan and Landon’s older brother, Jamison.

As a team, and I use that term loosely, they’re wearing red and black buffalo check shirts, minus sleeves, of course.

With Isolde and Lumi at my side, we stand amid the crowd gathered around the wood carving event first.

Landon is up against other locals with a small chainsaw in hand. He glances up at Isolde and winks before lowering his protective eyewear over his face.

“He’s so juvenile,” Isolde groans.

“What’s the deal with you two?” I ask, curious if my sister has ever had an interest in Landon Abbott.

“At last year’s ice sculpture contest, he carved an otter for you. I can’t wait to see what he carves this time.” Lumi bumps her shoulder against Isolde.

“It was a chipmunk,” Isolde grumbles.

I raise my brows at Lumi, surprised by how quickly Isolde corrected her.

“What’s with the woodland creatures between you and him?” I ask.

“It’s nothing. He’s juvenile, like I said.”

Landon Abbott might be juvenile, but he’s also hot as hell, and with his shirt tucked in but unbuttoned a few more buttons than necessary, plus his thick arms on display, he’s a force with a chainsaw.

Landon was not coached as much as cheered on by his cousins, but he made a valiant effort within the time required to carve out a rough, but adorable bear cub, holding a heart in his little paw.

“That’s sweet,” I say when he’s finished and glance at Isolde when time is called.