didn’t look good.
I gave them my best charming smile and rolled my eyes.
“She’s never been good at long journeys, she was out like a light after the first hour!” I joked.
The old man looked like he knew exactly what I was talking about. They both laughed and as I walked away, I heard the old lady speak to her husband.
“Why don’t you ever carry me in?”
I snickered.
Lying her on the bed in our room, I let out a breath I hadn’t realised I was holding. She looked so peaceful, almost serene, and I bit my lip. She probably hadn’t looked like that much in the last six years.
I stripped off her jumper, but left her tank top and jeans on – I was pretty sure that she wouldn’t want me undressing her.
For a girl, almost woman, who had clearly had a tough life, it didn’t show.
She wasn’t scrawny or worn down and she clearly took good care of herself. Everything about her was clean and beautiful - from her shiny blonde hair right down to her painted toe-nails. Her full, pouty lips moved with every breath she took. Her dad was Italian, so she had that gorgeous olive skin that was totally flawless.
I really couldn’t believe that the little girl I’d known years ago, had grown up to be such a stunner. Part of me wished she hadn’t, because this little rescue mission was going to be harder than I thought...literally.
Damn.
Laying down next to her, I linked our fingers and held on tight, she was mine now and I’d protect her.
No matter what.
Chapter Seven
Lydia
It hurt to breathe. It hurt to blink.
I was too scared to open my eyes in case Freddy was waiting for me to wake up.
I shifted my hips and sucked in a breath; that really, really did not feel good.
I started to test my body, hips were good, so were my legs, feet, toes. My whole torso was throbbing – probably not a good sign. I wiggled my fingers, or I tried to, something had my hand held in a vice grip and my eyes shot open.
Why would Freddy be holding my hand?
I looked at the face of the person lying next to me.
“Am I dreaming? Am I dead?” I asked out loud.
He stirred, but didn’t wake.
I sighed. “I like this dream.”
Ruben Brent - or what I imagined an adult Ruben would look like. It surprised me actually, that this dream vision of him seemed to be a hundred times better than any I’d had before.
Damn, I hadn’t seen him in years. That dusty part of my heart that I had ignored for years, started beating again.
Oh, he wasn’t the same scrawny little boy I knew, that was for sure.
He had filled out nicely, his black t-shirt was stretched taut over his chest and the muscles in arms bulged, even in his sleep. His hair was slightly longer, long enough for me to be able to run my fingers through it but still dirty blonde and beautiful. A lock had fallen across his forehead, I wanted to stroke it away from his face.
My fingers twitched.
I was itching to reach out and touch him. Then I realised that it was my dream, I could do whatever I wanted.
I tried to pull my hand from his, but he wouldn’t let go. I pulled harder and his grip finally loosened.
Running one finger across his temple, I moved the hair from his forehead and carried on down his face to line his jaw. His high cheekbones and flawless complexion made him model-beautiful. I touched his full bottom lip, wondering what it would feel like to kiss it.
He was just so handsome. He’d be twenty, I thought. Stuck somewhere between male adolescence and real adulthood, but even in his sleep he had a face that dared you to call him a child. There was nothing childlike about him, no, this guy was all man.
I let my fingers trail down his chest and almost giggled out loud when his nipples rose under my touch. I really, really liked this dream. I spread out my fingers and ran my whole hand across the plains of his abdominal muscles, biting my bottom lip when I felt the ridges and how defined he was. He shifted and groaned so I froze, his muscles tensed under
I gave them my best charming smile and rolled my eyes.
“She’s never been good at long journeys, she was out like a light after the first hour!” I joked.
The old man looked like he knew exactly what I was talking about. They both laughed and as I walked away, I heard the old lady speak to her husband.
“Why don’t you ever carry me in?”
I snickered.
Lying her on the bed in our room, I let out a breath I hadn’t realised I was holding. She looked so peaceful, almost serene, and I bit my lip. She probably hadn’t looked like that much in the last six years.
I stripped off her jumper, but left her tank top and jeans on – I was pretty sure that she wouldn’t want me undressing her.
For a girl, almost woman, who had clearly had a tough life, it didn’t show.
She wasn’t scrawny or worn down and she clearly took good care of herself. Everything about her was clean and beautiful - from her shiny blonde hair right down to her painted toe-nails. Her full, pouty lips moved with every breath she took. Her dad was Italian, so she had that gorgeous olive skin that was totally flawless.
I really couldn’t believe that the little girl I’d known years ago, had grown up to be such a stunner. Part of me wished she hadn’t, because this little rescue mission was going to be harder than I thought...literally.
Damn.
Laying down next to her, I linked our fingers and held on tight, she was mine now and I’d protect her.
No matter what.
Chapter Seven
Lydia
It hurt to breathe. It hurt to blink.
I was too scared to open my eyes in case Freddy was waiting for me to wake up.
I shifted my hips and sucked in a breath; that really, really did not feel good.
I started to test my body, hips were good, so were my legs, feet, toes. My whole torso was throbbing – probably not a good sign. I wiggled my fingers, or I tried to, something had my hand held in a vice grip and my eyes shot open.
Why would Freddy be holding my hand?
I looked at the face of the person lying next to me.
“Am I dreaming? Am I dead?” I asked out loud.
He stirred, but didn’t wake.
I sighed. “I like this dream.”
Ruben Brent - or what I imagined an adult Ruben would look like. It surprised me actually, that this dream vision of him seemed to be a hundred times better than any I’d had before.
Damn, I hadn’t seen him in years. That dusty part of my heart that I had ignored for years, started beating again.
Oh, he wasn’t the same scrawny little boy I knew, that was for sure.
He had filled out nicely, his black t-shirt was stretched taut over his chest and the muscles in arms bulged, even in his sleep. His hair was slightly longer, long enough for me to be able to run my fingers through it but still dirty blonde and beautiful. A lock had fallen across his forehead, I wanted to stroke it away from his face.
My fingers twitched.
I was itching to reach out and touch him. Then I realised that it was my dream, I could do whatever I wanted.
I tried to pull my hand from his, but he wouldn’t let go. I pulled harder and his grip finally loosened.
Running one finger across his temple, I moved the hair from his forehead and carried on down his face to line his jaw. His high cheekbones and flawless complexion made him model-beautiful. I touched his full bottom lip, wondering what it would feel like to kiss it.
He was just so handsome. He’d be twenty, I thought. Stuck somewhere between male adolescence and real adulthood, but even in his sleep he had a face that dared you to call him a child. There was nothing childlike about him, no, this guy was all man.
I let my fingers trail down his chest and almost giggled out loud when his nipples rose under my touch. I really, really liked this dream. I spread out my fingers and ran my whole hand across the plains of his abdominal muscles, biting my bottom lip when I felt the ridges and how defined he was. He shifted and groaned so I froze, his muscles tensed under
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