Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 29978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
Her lips are soft, but there’s nothing gentle about this kiss. It’s fire and fury, all the tension between us exploding in a way neither of us expected. I taste her anger, her defiance, and something sweeter beneath it all—something that makes my blood race faster than before.
Her fingers dig into my chest, nails scraping against my shirt as she pushes back, her lips breaking free from mine for just a second. We’re both breathing hard, eyes locked, and for a moment, I think she’s going to say something. But then she grabs the front of my shirt and yanks me back down, pulling me into her as if she can’t stand the space between us any longer.
The forest around us feels miles away.
I grunt, frustration forming a scowl on my features, before I turn on my booted heel and stalk off in the direction of my cabin. This woman is under my skin, and as much as I’m annoyed about it, I’m also hoping this won’t be the last I see of her.
Chapter Five
Tamlyn
I pace the cabin, my boots scuffing against the worn wood floors as I try to shake off the lingering heat in my body. The air inside is still, thick with the scent of pine and the faint musk of the forest clinging to my clothes. It should be calming, but right now, it feels suffocating.
I stop in front of the small window, staring out at the expanse of trees. The forest sways in the breeze, branches moving like they don’t have a care in the world. I envy them—unburdened, untouched by the chaos in my mind. But I’m not them. I’m standing here, still tasting Barron’s kiss, still feeling the rough scrape of his calloused hands.
What the hell was I thinking? I press my fingers to my lips, as if that will somehow erase the memory. But it’s no good. I can still feel the heat of his mouth, the way his lips crashed against mine with a mix of anger and something far more dangerous. The way my body responded, instinctual, before my mind could catch up and remind me that Barron is the last man I should ever get involved with.
A logger. I let out a bitter laugh and drop my hand, frustration bubbling up in my chest. The kind of man who sees the land as a resource to be hacked apart, not something sacred to be preserved. And yet, here I am, pacing like a caged animal, every thought wrapped up in him.
I’m supposed to be here to study the land, to catalog the rare species hiding beneath the trees. To protect it. But Barron… Barron is like a storm that’s rolled in without warning, wrecking everything I’ve carefully built.
I pull out my notebook, slamming it onto the table harder than necessary, the pages flipping open to the notes I’ve scribbled down. The names of plants and wildlife blur together as I stare at them, trying—trying—to focus on anything other than the way Barron’s rough hands felt when he grabbed my arm, the way his eyes darkened with something primal before he kissed me.
Damn it. I shove the notebook away, slumping down into the chair.
This was supposed to be easy. Just another job. Another patch of land to study, to protect. Another fight in a long line of fights I’ve had with men like Barron. Men who see the world in terms of profit and loss, who look at these trees and see only the timber they can harvest. I’ve never had a problem standing my ground before, but now? Now everything feels like it’s tipping on its axis, and I don’t know which way is up.
Because Barron… he’s not just some logger. He’s different. The way he talks about the land, the way his eyes burned when I challenged him—it’s more than just a job to him, even if he’d never admit it. He’s a force, wild and unyielding, like the mountain itself. And God help me, it’s been two days since we kissed and I can’t stop thinking about him.
I push up from the chair again, my frustration boiling over. I’m not this person. I don’t get tangled up in this kind of mess. I’m not the type to be distracted by a man, especially one who stands for everything I’m against. I’ve always been the one to move on, to pack up my things and leave the second the job is done. But now…
I drag a hand through my hair, tugging it loose from the tie, and let out a long breath. Why him? Why now?
It’s like the universe is playing some cruel joke, throwing this stubborn, infuriating man into my path just when I thought I had everything figured out. I don’t want to feel this pull, this… need that’s simmering under my skin every time I think about him. But I do. And it scares the hell out of me.