Holy shit, maybe I don’t want to do this. Do I want this? Is it a mistake? It’s a mistake.
Red! It flashes through my mind. A stoplight, not the word. I should say it. I could. Red Red Red.
No. No, Iwantto do this. I’m doing this.
The knowledge lands hard between my legs and in my stomach. I feel sick and horny and lost out here in the woods.
I throw my hand out, smack a tree, go right, almost run into another tree, and slow down, hands out wide now. Another tree. Where is he? Where is he?
I change directions and move on. My wild inner animal pushes me deeper and deeper into the living, breathing, damp moss chaos of the woods. Insects hit my face, a vine grabs my foot and sends me flailing to the ground. I’m up fast, barely cringing at the way my shoulder aches. He’s close now. So close I want to look back.
My outstretched palm scrapes rough bark—a wide tree. I stop. Cling to it, like a lifeline. Will he see me back here? How small can I make myself? Pulling my limbs in tight, I shut my eyes, quiet my breath and listen.
Should I look? I need to look, the way I do in the fantasy, when I rub my clit and let my inner self fly.
Hardly moving at all, I peek out, just the barest bit.
Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit.
He’s right there.
I push forward again. Arms wrapped around my head for protection. I put on speed, thighs aching. My foot bumps something and I lurch, right myself, keep going. Oh, fuck, my toe. I shut out the pain.
I think about his silhouette. It was huge. Big enough to blot out more than his share of the night sky. I’m not small, but I am nothing compared to that mass.
There’s no stopping the whimpering coming from me. It’s the animal.
I’m prey. Just prey.
My leg knocks into something hard. I trip, sailing forward, hands braced to take the brunt of it.I told you so.Quick as lightning, I see the ER visit, a cast, no work, explanations. Pain, pain, pain. One hand hits the ground.
And then I just…stop.
3
Grace
All the airgets knocked out of me. Not from the fall. There’s an arm around my waist.
I grunt, hover above the ground for a millisecond, like someone out ofThe Matrix, and rise up, stunned when my back smacks into a wide, hard surface.
It’s his chest. His other arm wraps around me. Thick, warm muscles. Skin hot against mine.
He walks us forward a few steps, my feet dangling above the forest floor. We stop. He shoves me toward a tree, brusque, violent, but painless.
The arms let go and his whole big body moves in, traps me against deeply rutted bark.
I struggle. Wild, frantic, lost. All I can do is shake myself like a dog, limbs scrabbling, pushing back and back, then to the side. I need out. I need out. Anything. Anything to get away and—
One callused hand collars my throat. The other tightens in my hair. The threat’s so much more than I’d ever pictured from my safe, soft bed.
“Please don’t do this.”
A few silent seconds pass and awareness slips in. I don’t remember wrapping my hand against his wrist, but I’m holding him tightly. We’re pressed together, like we know each other. His palm cups my neck. My pulse races light and high and he must feel it. Can he?
Can he tell that I still want this?
My chest moves, expanding to press my breasts to the tree, then contracting. He must feel that. My back’s tight to his front and he’s hot. My God, his chest is pouring out heat like an oven. It should be uncomfortable in this hot summer night, but I like it. It feels…
