I’d never felt so insignificant. I was a tiny, anonymous cog, to be moved however the company saw fit.
I watched the city flash past the window for the first few miles, sipping from a bottle of water the limo driver had given me. I could feel myself slumping. My shift had started at eight that morning and I’d done four hours of it before everything had gone crazy. My head nodded and the leather seat became marshmallow-soft beneath me, taking me down to a warm, dark place. Before we’d even reached the city limits, I was asleep.
And I dreamed.
4
Bethany
I FELT HIM FIRST, each heavy footstep shaking the ground. Then the outdoor scent of him: the smell of trees lush and thick around you, the sharp hit of freshly-split wood and just a subtle curl of woodsmoke. I filled my lungs, getting drunk on it: I wanted to breathe nothing but his smell. Finally, I heard him, his breathing getting closer and closer until I knew he was right in front of me, his pecs just shy of brushing my breasts as he inhaled.
I opened my eyes.
A rich golden sun was beating down on us from an unbroken blue sky, the heat soaking into my bones and making my skin tingle and come alive after so long indoors. I blinked up at his silhouette for a second and then my eyes adjusted. That gorgeous, brooding face came closer as he leaned down towards me. I stared into cornflower-blue eyes as his hands found my shoulders, palms smoothing over the bare skin and the thin straps of my sundress. Then down over my arms, down to my hands, his big fingers lacing with my slender ones and gently squeezing. Then his hands moved around behind me and—
I yelped as he grabbed my ass in both hands and hoisted me into the air. My legs swung up and suddenly I was against him, breathless, the hard ridges of his abs stroking against my groin, my thighs spread either side of his torso. My legs kicked for a second and then I got them hooked around him, my bare heels pressed up against the sun-warmed denim that covered his ass. I grabbed onto his shoulders and went a little heady at the sheer size of him, walking my fingers out along the solid muscle, wanting to feel all of him.
I’m not delicate or fragile or small...but in his arms, I felt all those things.
He held me there as if I weighed nothing and just gazed at me like he’d never get tired of looking. Those blue eyes narrowed and heated, and his hands squeezed my ass.
I melted.
He leaned down. I took a shuddering breath, my heartbeat racing. A lock of his golden hair fell forward, stroking my dark curls. I closed my eyes.
The rough scrape of his beard. Then the first warm brush of his full lower lip against my own—
I opened my eyes, confused because surely they were already open. And instead of getting lighter, it got darker. I was in a dark, moving room and there was soft leather beneath me. What?!
For several seconds, I sat there confused and frustrated, my heart still pounding. Then my cheeks went hot with embarrassment. The car. I was in the car. I looked at the back of the limo driver’s head. Please don’t let me have moaned in my sleep.
We were still moving but the sky was black outside. How long was I asleep for?! We must be nearly in San Francisco. But when I looked out of the window, it was just a featureless highway. A streetlight flashed past and I winced at the sudden brightness, my head throbbing. I felt like I had a hangover.
Then I looked out of the windshield and froze. We were turning off the highway and ahead of us, the world just...stopped. The lights that marked houses and roads went from long strings to isolated little clusters and then to nothing at all. Just infinite, cold blackness. The sea. That must be the sea. But wouldn’t there at least be a boat with its lights on, out there in the blackness? “What is that?” I mumbled to the driver.
“The woods.” he said.
The woods? But it stretched all the way to the horizon. There weren’t areas of wilderness that big anymore, were there? At least not anywhere close to San Francisco. “Where are we?” I asked.
I waited, but he didn’t answer. Maybe he didn’t hear. A moment later, we turned again, skirting the edge of the blackness. I waited politely until he’d made the turn and then spoke up again, louder, this time. “Where are we, please?”
His shoulders rose just a little. He’d heard, but he still didn’t answer. I went cold inside.
Tall metal gates opened silently in front of us. A long, winding driveway. Manicured hedges and, just visible behind them, fences topped with razor wire. There were security guards, too, serious-looking guys all dressed in black. I leaned forward between the seats. “Where the hell are we?” I demanded, my voice ragged.