Deliciously Obedient (12 page)

No
one else’s.

Writing
a song for Lydia, performing it on stage, taking ownership of what
he’d done and how he felt about her was a bold—and probably
stupid—move. But he only needed to hide for another day and a half.

After
that it was all out in the open. Everything would be revealed.

Sitting
at his fire pit, the cold night a form of penance, his thin coat
aided by four layers of shirts underneath, he let the small fire die
down, the coals barely casting enough light for his fingers to find
their places on the blonde-wood guitar. The first few notes of old
classic rock tunes and country rock floated from his fingers. How
easily what he enjoyed came to him.

Why
had he spent so many years driving himself to do what didn’t?

“
Mike?”
Pete appeared, flashlight in hand, a friendly smile on his face.

“
Too
loud? Is it quiet hours?” His voice rumbled in his throat, so
rarely used these days. The solitude made talking gratuitous.

“
No,
actually, it’s beautiful. You’re good.”

“
You’re
being far too kind. I suck.”

“
Better
than me. Can’t play guitar to save my life. Or any instrument, for
that matter. The musician of the family was Luke…” Pete smiled
sadly. Mike knew the backstory on Luke now—the oldest, gone to
Iraq, now dead—but never asked details. Prying wasn’t his style.

He
certainly didn’t want too many questions thrown his way, so…

“
Did
he play guitar?”

Pete
nodded. “And piano, drums—you name it. He loved it. So did
Claire.”

“
Claire?”

“
Our
daughter-in-law.” That was the first Mike had heard of a wife for
Luke. Hadn’t met her. Wondered what the backstory was, but
again…didn’t want to pry.

Pete
sat down on a small log, knees cracking with effort. “Snap,
crackle, pop,” he joked.

“
We
all get old.”

“
If
we’re lucky.”

Mike
winced. “Sorry. Wasn’t thinking.”

Pete
blew out a long breath. “No offense taken. Just being
philosophical.”

Mike
strummed a few chords of a Led Zeppelin song. Pete began to hum
along. “You playing that in the show?”

Mike
shook his head. “No. Something new I composed.”

“
I’d
love to hear it.”

Something
hard in Mike tightened further. “You will. At the show.”

Pete’s
phone buzzed. He stood to dig it out of his pocket and looked at the
screen, then thumbed toward the shed. “Gotta run. Look forward to
hearing it!”

“
Got
to finish, but you’ll hear it.”

Pete
whipped through the dark woods faster than Mike would have expected.
He must know this place so well. Intimacy could be developed between
two people, but it hadn’t occurred to Mike that you could have
intimate knowledge of land. Of buildings. Of a shoreline or a
landscape, roots so deep they kept you in place.

Lydia
had left all this behind to work in corporate droneland.

To
work for him.

Why?
The campground was so idyllic that it unsettled him to think that she
needed to escape it. What kept her from coming back, and what drove
her here this time?

Why
here? Why now? Jeremy’s presence had something to do with it, but
he would have to live with so many unanswered questions.

A
blast of wind sent a small spark flying, landing on the front of his
guitar. A good, solid poke of the fire with his marshmallow stick
confirmed it was mostly out. Mike got up and headed into the cabin.
It was time to hit the sack.

Flashes
of light, like lightsabers, blipped through the window. Kids roamed
the woods late at night all the time. Ignoring it was the best
approach, but this time the beams had voices.

“
Here?
Really?”

He
froze in place, about to turn on the small lamp—the only light
source—in the cabin.

Lydia.

“
Why
not?” A man’s voice, persuasive and cocky.

Jeremy.

Jesus
Christ. What were they doing right here? Timing was everything, and
if he hadn’t come inside…

“
It’s
buttfucking cold!” he heard her exclaim, followed by Jeremy’s
mumbles, then hysterical laughter from a loopy Lydia.

Had
she been drinking? That made her more pliant, if memory served
correctly. As Matt he’d been so decent, so good the night he’d
taken her home and tucked her into bed. What he wouldn’t give to go
back in time and relish every inch of her skin, watch her face bloom
from desire to release, take in handfuls of that ass as he thrust
into her, making her—

“
It’s
even colder than the other day!” she protested, though the sound of
her voice was muffled by a sudden silence that probably meant Jeremy
was kissing her.

The
absence of sound went on. And on. Each second stretched out before
the next in agony.

Trapped.
He was utterly trapped in this tiny little cabin with Lydia and
Jeremy about to make love right under his nose.

If
only…

“
It
is buttfucking cold!” she protested.

“
Then
tonight’s my lucky night!” Jeremy replied.

“
Is
that something you’d like?” she whispered. Mike inhaled, slow and
deep. Easy boy. Stay in control. Ears perked, he listened for more.

“
You’d
consider it?” Jeremy sounded like a man who’d just learned he won
the lottery. Which, sexually speaking, he had.

“
Sure.
We just need a strap-on.”

“
A
strap-on for—wait! No! Not
that
kind!”

Mike
snorted, then froze.

“
We
have a warm cabin of our own!” she hissed. “Let’s go back
there!”

“
Chicken.”

“
If
it makes me a warm chicken, then duly noted!”

The
sound of leaves and branches rustling, as if she were running, faded
out into the distance, off toward the nicer cabins.

He’d
been holding his breath, and let it out with one big whoosh.

This
was stupid.

Michael
Bournham would have gone out there, declared his presence, and
claimed the woman he wanted—with or without Jeremy.

Michael
Bournham, though, would never have come here a month ago.

Whoever
he was, whatever the chaos of the past month had taught him, a
clarity was emerging, and this much was true:

This
year’s talent show shouldn’t be missed.

Four
wine coolers seemed like the perfect amount as Jeremy had fed them to
her, one by one, back in the nice, warm rec hall. Wandering back to
their cabin, holding Jeremy’s hand, she’d lost her way in the
woods, accidentally taking them over by the tiny, uninsulated cabins
that were what she called “the new wing.” Built six years ago,
they weren’t really on her radar, because they had been put in
while she was away at college. While she knew the woods well, this
area was tough in the dead of night, flashlights not very helpful
when she had alcohol and lust pumping through her veins at breakneck
speed.

She
wanted Jeremy.

Now.

His
pass at her, and the offer to fuck right here in the woods, was
tempting.

“
It
is buttfucking cold!” she protested.

“
Then
tonight’s my lucky night!” he’d hissed, hands like tentacles.
Everywhere. Everyfuckingwhere.

She
couldn’t stop laughing. They hadn’t gone there—yet. The thought
thrilled her, though. What if? No one she’d dated had truly
suggested anal sex, though plenty of guys joked about it. Joked as if
they weren’t really into it—and yet the joke meant something,
right?

This
was Jeremy. She could just ask.

“
Is
that something you’d like?” she whispered, running her hand up
his thigh.

He
froze. “You’d consider it?”

“
Sure.
We just need a strap-on.”

“
A
strap-on for—wait! No! Not
that
kind!” he said, sounding
thoroughly confounded, though it didn’t stop him from sliding a
hand under her breast, teasing the nipple to pebble.

“
We
have a warm cabin of our own!” she hissed. “Let’s go back
there!”

“
Chicken.”

“
If
it makes me a warm chicken, then duly noted!”

Dizzy with
anticipation, she took off, Jeremy chasing her as she sprinted
through the woods, loose and on track. Getting her bearings, she
found the right trail. Blood and lust and the thrill of the unknown
being a possibility in bed made her want to get naked, under the
sheets, and wet and wild.

Why
delay? She took the cabin’s stairs in twos, ripped the door open,
slammed it shut and was nude from the waist down when Jeremy barged
in, breathing hard, eyes popping when he caught sight of her breasts
as she pulled her shirt up over her head.

“
You
are so wonderful,” she said as he stripped down, chest heaving with
gasps, the broad shoulders and lean swimmer’s build making her want
him even more, hands twitching to touch and touch and touch until she
could quell her need.

“
And
you’re goddamn hot,” he said, suddenly picking her up, one arm
under her naked breast, the other catching the back of her knees as
Jeremy unceremoniously picked her up and tossed her on the
featherbed-covered mattress, his body on hers in seconds.

“
We’ll
freeze!”

“
Not
if we make enough heat,” he growled, but relented as she pulled the
down comforter down to the end of the bed and wiggled under it. The
heat of their bodies made a warm cocoon quickly, and as both
discarded their remaining clothes she found herself awash in his
skin, his mouth taking hers and then suckling one nipple, making her
wet and swollen.

“
How
do you know exactly what to do to me, Jeremy?” she moaned, her
hands fast and eager, finding him hard and ready.

“
Un-uh.
Not yet,” he said, pulling her hand off him. “Plenty of time for
that. What I want is time to focus on you.”