I showed up in that mist-veiled wilderness with my maps and my mandates, steeling myself against the wild.
Enforcing the heir clause on his rugged acres was supposed to be clean. Professional. Mine to control.
Then he dragged me from the riverbank, mud caking our skin, his grip a promise of possession no law could override.
Damn this savage homesteader. I came to bind his land, not bare my throat to his hunger.
His growl vibrates through me first, low and unyielding, stripping my defenses like bark from a felled tree.
I snap back with sharp words, clinging to my skepticism, my career, the empire I'm clawing to secure.
But he sees the crack. Presses it. Pins me against the cabin's rough-hewn wall, breath hot on my neck.
Every denied stare twists into obsession, his body demanding what my civilized shell aches to yield: utter claiming, seed flooding deep to shatter my autonomy.
Sweat slicks us in the hearth's wild glow, frenzy overtaking reason as he takes me on the fur-strewn floor.
River rushes echo our desperate rut, mud and need smearing us into beasts.
Even the garden hangs heavy with it, fog cloaking the bloom of our illicit heat.
I fight the pull - independence forged in boardrooms, vows to ethics and legacy - terrified his feral salvation will ruin it all.
One yielding thrust, and my world fractures.
Surrender to his seed, or watch him burn my life to ash?
Mine to fight.
His to conquer.
A full-length breeding primal play claiming erotic romance featuring a skeptical surveyor denying her surrender and the savage homesteader who possesses her.
