Like a predator returning to its den, he looms in the doorway. A king returning to his throne.
I back away from the window, my pulse battering against my ribs. The door groans open, bringing a gust of arctic air that swirls around my bare legs, followed immediately by the overwhelming presence of him.
Logan kicks the door shut. The deadbolt slides home with a heavy thud, sealing us in. The silence is thick. It smells of ozone, pine, and the dark musk of his skin.
The wood crashes into the bin beside the hearth. He doesn't look at the logs. He doesn't look at the flames.
He looks at me.
The rug muffles his heavy tread as he stalks forward. The heat radiating off his body is intense. It wars with the frost clinging to his shoulders. Melted snow drips from his dark hair, trailing down the hard line of his jaw.
"I told you," he rumbles. His voice is a low growl, stripped of any pretense of civilization. "I told you to wait by the fire."
"I was waiting," I whisper.
I’m not sure what for. Permission? Or the courage to ask for what I want?
Stopping inches away, he forces me to crane my neck back to look him in the eye. The size difference is comical, terrifying, and undeniably erotic. I am a soft, curvy thing standing in the shadow of a mountain.
"You watched," he accuses, but his eyes burn with a dark satisfaction. "You like seeing what I can do? How hard I can swing?"
"Yes," I admit, the truth tumbling out before I can filter it.
Logan growls, a low vibration that rumbles straight into my bones. He reaches out, his large hands bracketing my face. His skin is freezing, shocking against my flushed cheeks, but his thumbs are gentle as they stroke my cheekbones.
"I’m done waiting, Savannah. The fire’s built. The storm’s locked us in. No one is coming for you." He leans down, his lipsbrushing the shell of my ear. "And even if they did, I’d kill them before I let them take you out of this cabin."
The threat is real. I know it is. And it shakes me to my core, making my knees buckle.
"Take me to bed, Logan," I breathe.
He doesn't hesitate. One arm sweeps behind my knees, the other wraps around my back, and I’m airborne. I gasp, clutching his shoulders, my fingers digging into the damp, cold skin.
He carries me like I weigh nothing, my bare tits crushed against the hard muscle of his chest as he strides into the bedroom. He doesn't just lay me down; he claims the space, dropping me onto the massive log bed so I can feel the scale of his territory.
The sheets are cool, but I’m burning, my pussy slick and aching for the weight of him.
Logan stands at the edge of the bed, his hands already at his fly. His eyes rake over my naked body, lingering on my heavy breasts and the wetness glistening between my thighs. He looks at me like a starving predator finally finding his prize.
I feel exposed, vulnerable in a way I never have before. My arms instinctively cross over my stomach, trying to shield the softness from his gaze, hiding the curves I’ve spent years draping in layers.
But Logan looks at me like a starving man looking at a feast. He reaches down, pulling my arms away to pin them at my sides.
"Beautiful," he murmurs. "So fucking soft."
He works the button of his jeans. My breath hitches. I watch, mesmerized, as he shoves the denim down his hips, kicking offhis boots and pants in a few efficient movements. When he straightens, I physically recoil, pressing myself back into the pillows.
He is... massive.
It’s not just his height or the width of his shoulders. He is thick, heavy, and visibly aroused. The erection springing from the dark thatch of hair is intimidating, a thick vein winding around the shaft like a vine on a tree trunk. The head is broad and angry-looking, glistening with a single drop of clear fluid.
"Logan," I choke out. "I don’t... I don’t think that’s going to fit."
A dark, feral grin splits his face. He crawls onto the bed, the mattress dipping significantly under his weight. He moves over me on hands and knees, caging me in.
The sheer breadth of him is staggering. As he looms above, I feel completely swallowed by his shadow, enveloped by the weight of his presence before he even touches me. It’s a dizzying, addictive realization of just how small I am compared to the mountain of a man claiming me.
"It’ll fit, Little Bear. You were made for me. Your body knows it even if your head is still catching up."
