Page 116 of The Lumberjack and the City Slicker

Yellow.

Butter yellow lace against her skin.

Soft. Delicate.

Bright as sunlight in spring.

“You requested yellow, if I recall,” she says, voice husky.

I drag a hand down my face, stunned.

“Yes, I did.”

“Well,” she replies, stepping into me, hands sliding up my chest, “is it what you wanted?”

Holy.

Fuck.

“It’s so much better, but you already knew that. Didn’t you, Trouble?”

She’s warm beneath my palms when I touch her.

Curved.

Real.

Alive.

I brush my thumb along the edge of the lace at her hip and she shivers.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” I tell her.

“Show me,” she whispers.

I lift her then.

Not because I need to.

But because I want to.

Her legs wrap around my waist like they belong there.

I carry her toward the bedroom, the firelight flickering behind us, casting shadows that dance along the walls.

Outside, the wind rustles the trees.

Maybe Scar is still watching.

Maybe he isn’t.

Doesn’t matter.

Tonight isn’t about solitude.

It isn’t about fear.

It isn’t about hiding behind my work or my mountain.