Wild and Free(15)

Stopping several feet away, she whirled to stare at him.

Her dream man.

Now up on a forearm watching her closely from a bed in her parents’ cabin.

“This isn’t a dream,” she whispered.

But…

It had to be. This wasn’t possible.

“Come here, baby doll,” he murmured gently.

He called her “baby doll”.

She closed her eyes. Then she opened them.

“This isn’t a dream,” she repeated wanting him to tell her it was.

But he didn’t. He moved and her arm darted up, palm out but the rest of her body grew paralyzed with fear.

At this reaction, he stopped but her head jerked around.

This was her parents’ cabin. She knew it.

But it was different.

The kitchen was newer, grander. It had a huge KitchenAid refrigerator and range. The countertops were nicer. The cabinets were better.

Her head jerked the other way.

There was still a big, inviting, deep-seated couch in front of a coffee table which sat in front of a roaring fire. The couch was still flanked by comfortable club chairs. There was a large sheepskin hide tossed casually over the corner of the couch. The rug all the furniture sat on was vast, thick, inviting you to bed down on it with a pillow, a book and a nice, comfy blanket.

But the furniture was different, newer, fluffier, sturdier, more rustic. They veritably screamed, “Take a load off and stay awhile.”

Her head swung forward and she saw the enormous, sleigh bed. Bigger, wider, longer, covered in a downy comforter, at the foot was a mohair throw.

Regardless of the changes, it was her parents’ cabin.

How could this be?

Her handsome wolf.

Her cabin?

She looked back at him.

“This can’t be,” she whispered. “Gregor told me the cabin burned down years ago.”

His face changed the second she uttered Gregor’s name but Sonia was too busy registering the fact that she’d clearly gone insane to let the frightening look that crossed his face penetrate.

“It didn’t burn down, little one,” he said softly, recapturing her complete attention as he moved from the bed. The instant he did she backed up two steps.

He stopped, standing at its side.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

He replied immediately, “Callum.”

Callum.

Vaguely, she thought that was an interesting name. Equally distractedly, she thought it suited him.

She looked down and saw she had on the same cotton nightdress she’d donned the night before.

The memories hit her again, ugly memories, terrifying ones and she took another step back as her head snapped up.

“They were going to hurt me,” she told him.

He started walking toward her as he assured, “They won’t hurt you.”

She continued to retreat but he didn’t stop this time.

Her hand, with its palm still facing him, had started trembling.

“They were going to hurt me,” she repeated.

“They won’t hurt you,” he also repeated, but his voice was less gentle. In fact, it was not gentle at all. It was reassuringly firm.

His legs were longer (far longer) and he got close quickly.

She felt the logs of the cabin wall against her shoulders and stopped because she had nowhere else to go.

Then she felt his hard chest hit her hand and her hand slid up as he got even closer until he stopped, not an inch away.

She tilted her head far back and looked up at him. She felt her lips tremble and it mortified her.

She tried to stop their movement and couldn’t so through them she whispered, “Did you rescue me?”

His hands came up and she tensed but he placed them on the logs on either side of her head. He leaned down so they were face-to-face, so close, she could feel his breath on her skin.

“Sonia, no one will ever hurt you. Not when you’re with me.”

She felt a different kind of tremble slide through her body.

Because his voice wasn’t firm when he said that.

His deep, rich voice was rock-solid. Like those words weren’t just words, they were a sacred vow.

“I don’t understand what’s going on,” she whispered and her tense body grew tight as his head got closer then veered to the side.

Then he did something bizarre.

And, she had to admit, it was strikingly beautiful in its tenderness.

With his temple, he nuzzled her own then down her cheek, to her jaw, up again and into her hair.

He stopped nuzzling her with his temple but, lips to her ear, he said gently, “Get showered and dressed, baby doll. I’ll finish with the wood. We’ll have breakfast. Then I’ll explain everything.”

Sonia stood, shoulder blades against the logs of her family’s long thought lost but always beloved cabin, her used-to-be most favorite place in the world, with the heat of her dream man’s body hitting her own, her fingers curled on the solid, very real, muscle of his shoulder, his stubbled cheek against hers, his lips at her ear, his glorious voice calling her his “baby doll” and she could do nothing but nod.