9. Knox
KNOX
D awn creeps slow over Eagle’s Crown, turning the sky from indigo to pale gold. The fire’s burned down to embers, but the weight across my chest is warm, steady.
Lily.
She’s sprawled out on top of me, limbs tangled, cheek pressed over my heart like she belongs there. It’s been almost a week since she found my things, since she held my belt, cradled it like it was something worthy, since she whispered my name like she’d stolen it.
And true to her word, she hasn’t said it again. To her, I’m Bear.
That puzzles me more than I’ll admit.
Every woman I knew in the past, back when the lights were blinding and the crowd screamed for The Grizzly , would’ve used it to their advantage. Either buttered me up so I gave them what they wanted or held it like a weapon, demanded more even while they basked in the shine of it.
But not my petal.
Sure, she looks at me with those big green eyes, pink mouth parted, and I know she’s thinking of only one thing—how to give me pleasure. It’s unsettling as hell, but fuck if it’s not addictive.
Yeah... addictive .
Fuck, I’m way past addicted to Lily. To the way she looks at me, the way her breath hitches when I touch her. Jesus, even those last vital inches she tries so valiantly but has still not been able to take... I’m addicted to watching her try.
And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like the sting of her jealousy that day, the sharpness in her voice when she accused me of judging her against other women. It burned, but it also branded me. She wanted me enough to get mad. Enough to slap and scratch me.
And holy fucking hell, I liked that too.
I wear her puny little marks with fucking pride. Wish she’d give me more of them.
But I’d gone too far, comparing her to the women who tried to tame me before. I saw the hurt in her face, the way she pulled back like I’d gutted her. I don’t want to see that again.
So I’ve been careful. So careful with my petal.
I tighten my arm around her waist, stare up at the beams overhead, and think about the other reason I’ve been pacing myself.
She was sore. Too sore.
The first time I found her icing herself in the bathroom, I’d just come in from chopping wood. Axe still in hand, sweat dripping down my back, ready to haul her into the bedroom.
Instead, I found her perched on the edge of the tub, wincing as she pressed a towel of ice between her thighs.
The sight damn near destroyed me.
Made me feel like I was breaking my beautiful toy.
And that—fuck—that tore me up.
Because I don’t want to break her. I want to keep her and keep her begging. Keep her sweet little body hungry for me so there’s no room for thoughts of others.
So now it’s every other day. Even when she whines and begs for my monster dick. And Christ, I love when she begs.
Sometimes I make her say it twice, three times, until she’s panting, hands clawing at my chest. Sometimes I goad her into slapping me first, pulling my hair, just to see that fire spark in her eyes, that feral hunger, before I take her over the edge.
She doesn’t even realize she’s giving me both halves of what I crave—obedience and rebellion, sweetness and sting.
And me? I’m sinking faster than I thought possible.
I press a kiss to her hair and ease her off me, sliding out from under her warmth. She murmurs something in her sleep but doesn’t stir.
The cabin creaks in the morning chill.
I stoke the fire, pull on my boots, and step outside. The air is sharp, full of pine, the kind that fills your lungs until it hurts so good.
Then I force myself to think of what woke me up this early when I should be slumbering next to Lily.
Today’s logging day.
Once a month, I cut what’s needed, haul it down to the contracted buyers who need it. I don’t do it because I need the money. Between solid investments and smart choices, I could disappear on this mountain for good and never starve.
But I like the work. Like replenishing what I take, keeping the cycle clean while watching my mountain bud with new life.
And part of me likes watching the buyers—the men who come with their trucks and their small talk—look at me like I’m a relic. A ghost.
They don’t know I’m still sharper, stronger, meaner than any of them.
For a split second, I imagine bringing Lily with me.
Perched on the truck seat, bare legs in my T-shirt, eyes shining at the view as we roll down the slope.
And then the picture twists to those men seeing her. Looking at her a few beats too long. Talking to her. Coveting what I have.
Then what? Would they try to take her away from me?
My jaw tightens. Fists harder than my jaw.
Fuck no is that happening.
She’s mine. My found treasure.
And I’ll be damned if another man lays eyes on her.
Lily
I wake to heat. To pressure. To his magic, pleasuring tongue.
My eyes fly open and I suck in a ragged breath.
Bear is between my thighs, shoulders wedged under me, dragging me open like he’ll tear me apart if I try to close up.
His growl vibrates through me, through the whole bed, and my hands fly to his hair.
He’s ravenous. Desperately so.
Every flick of his tongue, every suck of his mouth is harsher, hungrier than usual. Last night he barely said three words to me, only barked orders— rougher, harder, dig in, petal .
I gave him what he wanted, clawed and slapped and raked my nails across his back until he bled. And now he seems hell-bent on wringing me dry, on making me scream louder than ever.
I do, right to the rafters.
By the time it’s over I’m wrecked, limp, gasping into the pillow as he licks me through the aftershocks. My body trembles and my throat’s raw from crying his name.
“That was... more intense than usual,” I whisper once I can breathe again.
He lifts his head, beard slick, eyes dark. “Are you complaining?”
I frown. “Only if there’s something wrong.”
His jaw tightens. He hesitates.
“What’s wrong, Bear?”
He shudders when I say it, like the name cuts straight through him.
Then he sits back on his heels, massive chest heaving. “Need to go out. You’re staying behind.”
My spine snaps straight. “No, I’m not.”
“You are, petal.” His voice brooks no argument as he rises off the bed, gloriously naked and mouthwateringly gigantic.
God, he’s big everywhere. I can’t get enough of looking at him.
Focus, Lily! “Where are you going?”
“Logging day.” His gaze flicks to the window, where the sky is just turning golden. “Men’ll be meeting me near the base. I’ll only be gone three... maybe four hours. You’ll be safe in the cabin.”
I scowl. I’ll go stir-crazy being here all by myself.
I’ve discovered the only form of entertainment Knox tolerates is technical logging books and boring biographies of dead athletes. If he owns a phone or a tablet, I’ve yet to see it. “But I want to see what you do.”
“Petal... no.”
His chest is hot under my palms when I lean forward, petting him. His nostrils flare, his eyes closing for half a second like he’s wavering.
And then I slide down to the end of the bed. Sit. Pull him closer and wrap my hand around his intimidating girth.
He’s harder than steel. But then isn’t he always?
I watch his face as I stroke him, see the spasms of pleasure chase across his features as he holds still. Watches me with ferocious intensity.
“Let’s make a deal. If I make you roar in three minutes,” I say, voice steady even though my insides quake, “I’m coming with you.”
His brow furrows, even as he shudders when I stroke him from root to tip. “Lily?—”
But I don’t let him finish. A quick glance at the clock, then I take his cock in my mouth.
His broad purple head fills me instantly, thick and hot, and I hollow my cheeks, working him with everything I have. My hands wrap around the trunk and base, stroking in time, tongue circling, pressing, teasing salty liquid from his slit.
He groans, fists tangling in my hair.
I go harder. Faster. Take him deep until my eyes water, until his thighs tremble. Then I look up at him, showing him how pleasing him pleasures me.
“Jesus, petal, that mouth... so good, fuck!”
I hum around him, pumping him as I lick the surging veins around his shaft, then suck harder on his head.
When his giant hand cradles my skull, I stretch my mouth wider, determined to stuff more of him into my mouth. He hits the back of my throat and I gag.
The sound seems to please him, and he spurts pre-cum onto my tongue. And his taste... oh heavens. I hated the taste of Brandon before. But not my giant. Not Bear. He’s addictive. I swallow it down, then flick my tongue over him, hunting for more.
“Oh fuck... that’s so fucking good. That’s it, petal, give me some teeth.”
I draw him deep, deep until he strokes the back of my throat again.
Then I sink my teeth gently into him.
And then it happens. He goes wild.
With a roar that rattles the rafters, he explodes down my throat.
I swallow every drop I can, catch the drips that fall down my chin. All while he watches me with a feral look laced with... awe.
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and glance at the clock.
Two minutes and forty-four seconds.
I smirk.
He collapses back on the bed, panting. When he finally opens his eyes, I grin up at him, victorious. “Guess I’m coming with you.”
We shower together and he’s grumpy the whole time, muttering about how he doesn’t like the idea of other men seeing me, but I scrub him anyway, kiss him anyway.
He lifts me up so I can reach up to shampoo his hair and growls into my hair like he’s barely tolerating it, but his arms tighten around me just the same.
By the time we’re dressed, he’s still scowling. Clearly unhappy. But he doesn’t say no.
He pulls one of his T-shirts over my head, then double-layers socks on my feet. When I glance in the mirror, I look ridiculous—like a kid playing dress-up—but he ties the arms of a flannel shirt around my waist, making it hang like a half-skirt. His jaw softens, almost proud of his handiwork.
“You’ll do,” he mutters.