Deliciously Obedient (43 page)

“
I
can’t believe they knew,” he said, right behind Lydia.

“
Unbelievable,”
she called back in a fake whisper.

“
You
had no idea?”

“
None.
I feel like a complete idiot.” The nearly-f moon shone down on
her bare head, making the crown glow as moonbeams reflected off the
soft shine of her lustrous hair. He reached for her elbow and she
halted, turning.

“
You’re
no idiot.” Her coated arm was cold in his palm, but he could
practically feel her heat as their eyes locked.

“
And
you’re no Michael Bournham,” she answered, yanking her arm away
and jogging the final hundred yards to her cabin.

What
the fuck did that mean? He ran after her, but her knowledge of the
terrain trumped his, leaving him with sore ankles and a slightly
bruised ego as he reached her cabin door far behind her, Jeremy right
behind him.

“
You
pissed her off.” It wasn’t a question.

“
She
told me I’m no Michael Bournham after I told her—oh, fuck it. Not
explaining,” he barked, entering the one-room cabin with a rush.

The
three were ensconced in the tiny space as Jeremy shut the door. Lydia
fed a few small, well-dried pieces of oak into the impossibly-tiny
wood stove that gave the cabin some warmth.

“
This
isn’t the same cabin,” Jeremy said absent-mindedly, looking
around. His jaw tightened as Mike thought about that: Jeremy and
Lydia had days together here at the campground that he hadn’t
shared.

Because
he was busy being an idiot
and
Michael Bournham. In disguise.

He
couldn’t disguise his feelings, though, as Lydia marched over to
him, tore the coat off like it was burning her, and flung it on the
bed.

“
I
tell you how I feel and you negate it.”

“
What?”

“
When
I tell him how I feel,” she said, pointing to Jeremy, “he
validates me. When I tell you how I feel, you deny it. Or hide from
it. Or invalidate it. In my imaginary world, Michael Bournham doesn’t
do that. He’s smart and witty and debonair and treats me like an
equal. He doesn’t tell me I’m not an idiot.”

“
Uhhh,”
Jeremy stuttered.

“
Shut
up,” Mike snapped.

“
I
will not shut up!” Lydia retorted.

“
Not
you. Him.”

“
Why
should I shut up?” Jeremy was across the room and facing Mike, a
head taller and looking down, down on him, in one of those moments
when time suspends and you get whatever you take.

And
then Mike got it.

“
Because
Lydia’s just picking a fight with us to postpone the inevitable.”
Raking a hand through his hair, he looked up and gave Jeremy a half
roll of eyes that then zeroed in on Lydia.

“
She
did it again,” Jeremy groaned. Working together felt good.
Familiar. Not ganging up on Lydia, but not being rivals, either. The
whole point of coming here was to talk.

Talk.

Even
though he wanted action more than words, he needed the right words
more than a fight.

“
The
man has a point,” Jeremy said to Lydia, not breaking the look with
Mike.

“
Shut
up,” she said.

“
Why
is everyone telling me to shut up?” Jeremy protested.

Lydia
flopped down on her bed and pressed her back against the mattress,
face pressed into a wince. Mike wanted to smooth the lines from
around her eyes, to help relax her brow, to do whatever it took to
make her feel safe and wanted and adored.

“
Because
it’s too scary to listen and be listened to,” she said in a long,
drawn out breath, her words airy yet firm.

Mike
looked at Jeremy askance, both of their faces serious. She had a
point.

“
How
about we start one sentence at a time and take it from there?”
Jeremy asked.

Like
sex
, Mike thought. You start with a touch that turns into a
caress, steeped in meaning and longing. Then the gentlest of kisses,
where passion can make the difference between a whisper and a roar.

What
happens next, stroke by lick by thrust by confession, is up to you.
But it all starts with that moment when you make yourself vulnerable.
Take a chance. Reveal your desires.

And
be naked.

Listen!
she wanted to shout. Listen to me. Slow the world down and make my
heart stop screaming.

Clit,
too.

Here
they both were, four eyes on her, watching her every move, tracking
each breath she took, reading her sighs and glances and fidgets as if
she were a language they were decoding.

And
yet she felt so unheard.

Whose
fault was that?
The chiding voice cut through her looping
thoughts and made her go perfectly still. Maybe you’re just letting
yourself
feel
unlistened to.

Closing
her eyes, she sighed and said, “Here’s my first sentence: I want
you both.” Her eyes flew open and she forced herself to find the
courage to look up at them.

A
small smile stretched one side of Jeremy’s mouth as he leaned
against the tiny kitchen table, just feet away. It made her heart
expand.

“
That’s
good,” Mike said. Ever in control, his face was hard to read,
though he seemed pleased. Damn well better be.

“
That’s
great,” Jeremy jumped in.

So
far, so good. The world hasn’t ended. She sat there, blinking hard,
wondering what to say next as her body roared with desire, racing
with want. Feeling uncomfortably disconnected from them both, yet so
full of promise, their proximity driving her mad. She wanted to take
Jeremy’s hand, for Mike to undress her, for the three to get under
the covers of the very bed she rested on and make love all night,
however that took form. The thready pulse and flush she felt on her
cheeks and chest were a testimony to how much her body tried to
override her own head games.

And
did Mike’s ass have to be so damn fine? Or Jeremy’s body,
stretched out next to her, those long legs strong and possessive in
bed, make her drool? Her body took her mind to erotic places even as
her heart needed to untangle so many emotions, a process that needed
more words. Or did it?

Was
she just inventing obstacles? This was getting out of hand, but
before she could make the leap, they had unfinished business to
manage.

“
Your
turn,” she said, chickening out. If she’d opened her mouth and
admitted all those thoughts that had just streamed through her mind,
she would have done better. But she wasn’t thinking linearly right
now. Hormonally, yes. Emotionally—definitely. Rationally? Hell no.

One
sentence at a time, right?
They
could have some of the
sentences.

“
Lydia,”
Mike said, sitting next to her on the bed, the pressure of his body
making her roll slightly toward him, her thighs rubbing together and
making the ache for intimacy turn into a searing pain.

“
Lydia,
I hear you.” He brushed the hair off her forehead and she closed
her eyes, willing herself to be present and aware and to just
experience his touch and words. “I hear every word. I’ve wanted
you for years. Needed you for months. Lusted after you, imagined a
future with you, torn myself apart fighting what I know is true.”

Her
eyelids opened and she saw Jeremy walk over and sit on her other
side, his hand resting on her knee. Ah, the heat of both of them was
so relaxing, even as she surged with lust.

“
We
both feel it,” Jeremy added, looking to Mike for confirmation.
Watching them communicate with some secret code should have put her
on edge but, instead, it made her feel like she was part of their
club. Invited and accepted, and now...

The
initiation would be so divine.

“
Why
fight anything?” she asked, her eyes grave and bold, meeting
Mike’s. Respect glittered back in his hard look, a dark wanting
making his eyes turn to blue steel.

“
I’m
accustomed to fighting for something—not against it.” His answer
made her shiver, because that was the most cogent explanation of her
struggle she’d felt yet.

“
And
I don’t fight at all,” Jeremy murmured, now laying back on the
bed with her, staring up at the beams. His hand found hers,
interlacing their fingers, his thumb stroking the soft flesh between
her thumb and index finger. It made a moan build in the back of her
throat.

“
But,”
he added, “for you, I’ll stop fleeing.”

“
Fleeing?”

A
shift on the bed and he was on his side, head propped on one elbow as
he took her in with those deep brown eyes. “I’ve spent more than
ten years drifting from place to place, searching for some life that
would make me feel whole. Thailand, Russia, Costa Rica, South
Africa—you name it, I tried it, thinking I’d find the real Jeremy
somewhere else. It turns out the secret place isn’t a place.”

His
finger touched the tip of her nose. “It’s a person.” Then his
eyes drifted up to Mike. “Persons.”

And
with that, Lydia made the first move, courage and hope pushing her
forward to kiss Jeremy, the touch of her lips on his the taste of
freedom

Mike’s
hands were on her shoulders, caressing as her tongue slipped between
Jeremy’s lips, his arm sliding up her torso to find the heat of her
breasts, the flush unimaginable, his palm like fire against her skin.
So many hands...

Crossing
over made her body melt, knowing that what had been chosen could not
be unchosen, and she wouldn’t anyway—this felt so right, as
Mike’s muscled chest warmed her from behind, Jeremy cupping her
breast and her own arms wrapping around him to deepen the kiss.

Breaking
away, she smiled at him as he touched her cheek, then turned away,
his arms still under her shirt, to kiss Mike, the taste and feel of
his mouth so different yet so welcome. Jeremy’s casual,
anything-goes openness contrasted with Mike’s white-hot intensity,
the two in perfect balance as their bodies moved in triplicate,
trying to find how to calibrate to this new norm.

Norm.
Would this ever be normal? And how was it that already it felt more
“normal” than her regular life, Mike’s hands on either side of
her face, fingers buried in her hair, his lips sucking on her lower
lip, tongue grazing her teeth, body taut with long-restrained desire.
Even their night last week had clearly not been enough. The man was
so wound with pure lust aimed at her.

Jeremy’s
hand stayed under her shirt and joined the other to release her bra
clip, a tiny sigh turning into an aching sound of arousal as his
thumbs found her nipples, quick strokes making her hard and hot. His
hands on her, Mike’s fingers lolling at the base of her neck, his
tongue taking and giving...she lost her mind.