Page 11 of Sparks with the Firefighter

It is. It's about to come through my ribs.

I take her in for a second, up on one arm and my heart thuds in my chest. Her hair is spread out. The lamp turns her skin to gold. There's dog hair on the sleeve of the shirt I pulled off her and she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.

Everything about her is soft where I'm not. My hands are a mess of calluses and I'm careful with them. I hold her like a man who's been starving for something real and just got handed it. I press my length against her opening and hold us there for a beat until she’s squirming for more.

When I finally move into her, she takes all the air out of my lungs with her.

She's tight and warm. Her whole body goes taut as her walls stretch around me. Then I rock into her and she makes a sound against my shoulder that I'm going to hear in my head for the rest of my life.

"Thoran."

"I know." My voice is unrecognizable. "I know, sweetheart. I've got you."

We find a slow rhythm, and I hold it there as long as I can stand it. Long enough to watch her come apart in increments. Her chin lifts, her eyes go unfocused, and her hands slide from my shoulders to my back and dig in.

My hand skims down her waist and settles at her hip. She arches into me with a soft moan that seems to hang in the room. I take my time and worship every curve because this woman had nine years of a man who never did. I learn what makes her breath hitch, what makes her fingers curl into my shoulders and what makes her say my name like a prayer into the ceiling.

Then her hips start meeting mine and it stops being slow.

It builds into something with no restraint left in it at all. I’ve got a fistful of her hair. My arm's under her, holding her up into me. The bed is loud and neither of us cares and the room narrows down until there is nothing in this world but the two of us and the sound she's making.

I feel the tension in her wind tight. Everything in her drawing up and shaking. I drive into her, thrusting until the whole world disappears around us.

"Let go sweetheart," I say against her throat. "I've got you. Let go for me."

Then, she does.

Vivien breaks apart under me with my name on her mouth. Her whole body clenches and then goes molten, and she takes me with her over the edge. I let go with her hair over my face, holding her so tight I don’t think I’ll ever let go. She takes all of me, Vivien milks me to the last drop.

Afterward, we stay tangled up in each other into the early hours of the night. When she nods off, I run my fingertips up her spine and watch goosebumps chase them the whole way. I watch the way her breath comes in slow, soft pulls. I kiss her shoulder. Through it one thought echoes a thousand times.

There you are.

CHAPTER EIGHT ADLER OAKES

It's been a while since I've addressed the town, but it never feels any more natural.

The mic squeals once when I pull it off the stand. Somebody in the back hollers something helpful about that. I wait it out, and the arena settles. There are maybe four hundred faces looking up at me in the flat morning light including all my brothers and my sister Jules. So I figure now's as good a time as any to get started.

"I want to thank you all for coming out to our annual Lumberjack Days." My voice comes back at me off the far bleachers, a half beat behind. "It's an important one."

I let that sit.

"My father-in-law and mentor to so many of us, Carl Hunting, imagined what Lumberjack Lagoon could be. He stood about where I'm standing and told a room of maybe forty people that this town was going to be something." I have to clear my throat. "I don't think even he knew his vision would come this far. When I look around I’m damn proud. It's a legacy of love, community, and tradition. And the funds we raise over the next three days are going to make sure we stay safe in the town he built."

The crowd goes up. I take the moment and glance over at my wife. She’s already teary eyed. Down front there's a boy on his father's shoulders with a paper flag. Past him, the pit crew's already got smoke going. Off to the left, Jules has the donation buckets stacked and a folding table staffed and ready to collect.

"This is my chance to say thank you to the best damn people in this country," I say, and I get the laugh I wanted. "I see you. All of you. Some of the very best among us, our heroes, our volunteers, our lumberjacks." I raise a hand toward the judging platform. "And of course, this year’s Lumberjack Lovers Thoran and Vivien. If you see them, say hello. And not just because they're judging the contests."

Another laugh, bigger. My brother Asher wolf-whistles.

"With that," I say, "let the games begin."

And in an instant, the whole place lets go.

I glance over. Thoran's got his hand at the small of Vivien’s back. He isn't looking at me or the crowd or anything else in this arena. Her boy is squeezed in beside them with a program rolled up in his fist.

Whatever other talents Jules has come second, the woman can pick a couple.