Page 5 of Secrets Within Us

Chapter 3 - Hadley

Stranger

Where was I?

The giant lumberjack sitting next to me on the bed didn’t answer or move an inch at my question. Well, all but one part of him stayed still. I saw movement in his lap and peeked to see his erection under his shorts twitch at my voice. It was then I realized his hand was heavy on my thigh.

What the hell happened before I woke up?

Feeling the alarms ringing through my system, I instinctively closed my legs slightly, causing him to jolt and release his grip on my thigh as if snapping out of a trance.

He cleared his throat before he pulled the heavy blanket up to cover me. When I attempted to free my arms from under the blankets, a sudden jolt of pain ran through my hand and up my wrist, causing me to let out a hiss.

He quickly folded the blanket back and cradled my hand in his as he pulled it out to sit on top of my stomach.

The trap. I remembered giving up hope of getting the trap off. Did he get it off?

“Shh, easy. I can get you something for the pain now that you’re awake, but it’ll put you back to sleep.” The powerful vibrations of his deep voice surrounded me, which filled me with a pleasant, tingling warmth. He seemed so incredibly large, filling up every inch of air around me, but for some reason, I didn’t fear him. Which was so fucked up, in reality. I didn’t think a man his size had it in him to be gentle at all. But there he was, nurturing and being gentle and kind.

“Where am I?” I asked again and watched as his entire demeanor changed again, morphing into something guarded.

“My house.” He answered with his back to me as he simply walked from the room without a parting word.

“But where is that?” I yelled out after him as he descended the stairs quickly. I could hear him walking around downstairs, the railing along the room at the end of the bed led me to believe it was a loft with living space below. The combination of pine walls, ceiling, and steel furniture created a rugged and masculine atmosphere.

The bed I was in smelled masculine as well. Not in a cologne way but in a fresh air and woods way. Exactly how he smelled when I got a whiff of him as he leaned over me to stand up.

I was in his bed.

His.

The lumberjack.

He was tall, I noticed when he left the room. Probably six feet and a couple of inches. His body was ripped with muscles from his jaw to his feet. He wore basketball shorts and a flannel shirt, but didn’t have any socks on. He had striking dark features, with his dark hair, a rugged looking almost black beard, and piercing dark brown eyes.

Brooding like.

Which meant I wasn’t doing myself any favors by laying in his bed completely defenseless, waiting for him to return, so I got up, at least if I was on my feet, I’d be more alert.

When I tugged the blankets off, I discovered all I had on was a baggy, long-sleeved shirt that didn’t fit me properly. Perhaps his?

It didn’t matter though, because when I saw the bruises marring my bare legs, all the memories of the last few days flooded back at once like a dam let loose.

Every slap.

Every punch.

Every kick.

Every sadistic word grunted into my ear while he was on top of me.

Every moment spent in the freezing cold.

My body looked like it went through war and back in one day flat. And that was exactly how I felt laying there. Moving was necessary. I had to keep moving.

Pulling myself up by the blanket to sit with my feet dangling off the tall bed, I tried to force the world to stop spinning. Finally, when it did, I slid down to the plush carpet, enjoying the sensation of my toes sliding through it.

I looked around the room for my clothes, but they were nowhere to be found. The shirt I was wearing went down to my knees, meaning it would have to be enough because I needed to get out of the bedroom.

---