Page 41 of Liberated By the Logger

Brose owns me: mind, body, and soul.

With each hard thrust, Brose groans against my temple, setting my insides on fire with the urge to climax. As rough as he’s fucking me, there is tenderness in the way he grasps my neck. It’s enough to hold me in place, but not hurt me or choke me out. His arm wrapped around me like a boa is more of a tight embrace than a restraint. His muscled chest is flat to my skin, like he needs to touch as much surface area on me as possible to feel the closest to me, connected.

His actions are sweet and forceful—it’s everything. Brose is everything.

When my insides tremble with my building release, Brose yanks us to our knees. I cling to his arm around my waist, as he drags me down on his shaft and the back of my thighs are straddling his. Fully seated, he lifts me back off before pulling me back down, repeating the process. I feel like a rag doll getting stuffed with his thick cock spearing me again and again…

The wetness he’s creating between my legs echoes around the room obscenely, adding to the melody of the squeaking bed frame and our ragged moans.

My legs burn and my throat aches, but the rush of sensation in my core has me peaking quickly.

“Brose!” I cry, my release gushing from me and all over his thighs.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” he says, his hips jerking.

Burying himself as deep as he can get, Brose comes inside of me with a roar, flooding me with his warmth.

Exhausted, I go slack against him like a wet noodle while he pants into the crook of my sweat slick neck.

“Stay,” he whispers softly, almost too quiet for me to hear over the pounding of my pulse in my ears.

“Like I could move if I wanted to,” I reply with a tired laugh. “You drained me. Literally.”

Slipping out of me, Brose turns me to face him. He palms my face, capturing my attention as he says, “No, I mean stay here with me.”

Shocked, my mouth falls open. “Are you asking me to move in with you?”

“I want you with me,” Brose says vehemently. “I want to wake to you beside me each morning, wrapped around me. After we’ve put in long hours in the forest, each of us doing our jobs, I want to cook and share a meal together while we complain about work. Like a proper couple, I want to play house with you and do all the errands and duties together. When it’s been a shit day, I want to snuggle with you by the fire before bed or relax in the tub with you seated in front of me. And I want to make love to you as often as you’ll let me.”

Whoa! Here I thought dating was on the table, but living together? So soon?

“Brose, this relationship is already moving quickly. Dating is reasonable after what we’ve shared, but moving in after one night is going from fast to turbo.”

“If this was happening to anyone else, I would agree with you, but I know deep in my fibers this is right.” He leans in, kissing my forehead before breathing me in. “If you need time to think about it, I understand. And if your answer’s no, I’ll begrudgingly accept it—for now. But if you think for one second this time we’ve shared is a one off, you’re wrong. From here on out, you’re my woman. And I’m your man. Denying moving in with me is only prolonging the inevitable and it’ll only hurt us both to wait longer than necessary to make it happen.”

With each point to his argument, my stomach dips—nervous and excited all at once. I agree with everything he’s saying. Hell, even the sensible part of my brain is screaming at me to go for it.

Brose gently tilts my face to his with his fingertips, kissing me like he’s pouring all of his love into me. It’s drugging, maddening, and impossible to resist.

He breaks the kiss, leaving me panting and ready to launch myself at him.

“Please,” he begs, breathing against my lips. “Stay.”

My switch has been flipped. I don’t need time to consider my next steps. I know what I want.

It’s time to do something for myself for once and say goodbye to my sheltered bubble.

I look up into Brose’s light gray eyes, ready to change everything. “Take me home, Brose.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

AMBROSE

As I drive Aspen back to her apartment near CSU, I try not to sulk. My woman hasn’t said no to moving in with me, but she hasn’t said yes either. She asked me to drive her back to her apartment—I assume to have space to think over my proposition. I want her to decide, preferably sooner rather than later, so I’m driving her back to her place to speed this along.

The stubborn part of me refuses to say her apartment is her home. I would sooner wipe my ass with sandpaper before calling her college efficiency apartment her home.

No. Her home is with me, back on the mountain in our cabin.