“No, it’s... I just...” She fumbled for her phone, stopping the music, her cheeks flushing pink. That blush spread down her neck, disappearing beneath her collar, and I wanted to follow it with my tongue. “I didn’t think anyone would be here this early.”
“I could leave. Come back later,” I said instead.
“No!” The word came out too quick, too emphatic, and her blush deepened. “I mean... you’re fine. I was just... finishing up the morning check.”
We stood there, the silence stretching between us, and I couldn’t help but notice how the early morning light caught in her hair. How her lips were slightly parted, still catching her breath from dancing. I wanted them wrapped around my cock. Her eyes kept darting to me and then away, like she wasn’t sure where to look.
Had she thought about me last night? Had she touched herself, imagining my hands on her body.
“You’re early,” she finally said.
“So are you.”
A small smile tugged at her lips. “I’m always early. Habit.”
“Me too.” Military training. And insomnia. And dreams about you that I can’t shake.
Another beat of silence, charged with everything neither of us was saying. I knew I should move. Should walk away, find something to do, maintain some distance.
Instead, I found myself asking, “What were you listening to?”
Her blush deepened. “Just... some Christmas music. It’s that time of year, you know. Dad would start playing it right after Thanksgiving. Drove the crew crazy, but he knew I loved Christmas.”
“You grew up here. In the sawmill.”
It wasn’t a question, but she nodded anyway. “Every day after school. Weekends. Summers. I learned to run every piece of equipment in this place before I graduated high school.” Pride crept into her voice. “Dad used to say I had sawdust in my veins.”
“And now you run it.”
Something flickered in her expression—old hurt, maybe, or disappointment. “He wanted Stone to take over. My older brother. But Stone...” She shrugged. “Stone had other plans. Football. The NFL. And I just... stepped up.”
She said it matter-of-factly, but I heard the weight behind the words. The years of proving herself.
I knew that feeling. Knew what it was like to carry weight that wasn’t supposed to be yours. To step up when others stepped away.
“That’s a lot for a kid to take on,” I said quietly.
Her eyes met mine, and I saw surprise there, as if she hadn’t expected understanding. Most people praised her competence without acknowledging what it had cost. “I managed.”
“More than managed. You built something. The specialty division, the expansion—that was you.”
“How did you—”
“Dale talks. And I pay attention.” I took a step closer, drawn by something I couldn’t name. Drawn by her. “You’re good at this, Charlotte. Really good.”
Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. That pink tongue. Damn, I wanted it on me. Wanted to feel it tracing the scars on my chest, wanted to watch her taste me, wanted—
I wanted to back her against the wall and kiss her until we both forgot every reason becoming involved was a bad idea.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “That... means a lot.”
We were close now. I could see the freckles scattered across her nose, the darker ring around her irises. If I leaned down just a little, I could find out if her lips were as soft as they looked. My hands fisted at my sides as I fought every instinct screaming at me to close the distance and slide one hand into her hair and angle her head back and cover her mouth with mine. To press my body against hers and let her feel exactly what she did to me, how hard I was just from standing this close.
Her gaze flickered to my mouth, and I watched confusion and want war in her expression.
She felt it too. This pull between us. This need. This raw, aching hunger.
The main door opened with a bang, and Dale’s voice rang out. “Morning, boss! Ready for another day of—oh. Hey, Crew. Didn’t know you’d be here this early.”
