Deliciously Obedient (22 page)

They
sounded like Niles and Frasier arguing over which one got the better
seat in an opera box.

Silence.

And
then: “You’re right. That was low.” Jeremy sounded sheepish.
“But to be fair, I use your apartment all the time, and there’s
only one bed, and those texts you sent were cryptic. I figured you’d
joined some Ashram in India and were learning to become a
Breatharian.”

“
A
what?”

“
To
live on air.”

A
snort. “Where do you come up with this shit?”

“
One
of the girls in India told me about it.”

One
of the girls
. Their conversation had descended into guarded
banter, and Jeremy’s words hovered in her ear like a gnat on a
humid day.
One of the girls
. Was that what she was to him,
too? Someday, would he describe her as “one of the girls in
Boston”? Her ass pulsed, cheeks red, and her lips felt parched.
What they’d just done together had been amazing. He wasn’t just
using her for cheap thrills, was he?

Take
care of her.

Guys
who wanted just a good fuck didn’t go to her parents’ campground
with her. Drive her and her mom to the hospital for her grandma’s
health crisis. Didn’t…

Didn’t
what?

How
well did she really know Jeremy?

“
I
told you I was closer than you think.”

Jeremy
made a sound she couldn’t interpret. “No shit. Get an eyeful?”

Whatever
Mike’s nonverbal response was, it made Jeremy’s next words come
out with a tension she felt in the base of her spine.

And
then mumbled words between the two of them that were so quiet she
wished she had hyperacusis.

Damn
normal hearing.

As
she shifted, one ass cheek peeled off the cold tile with a
snick
,
and she took a second to look down. Naked, sticky and with a case of
bed head, she wondered how soon her mom would text.

Shower.
She needed to look presentable for the hospital, even as the two men
who plagued her threesome dreams conversed about her just feet away.

And
then there was Mike. Standing, she leaned in to turn the shower on,
the cold jets spraying her bare breasts as she pulled the shower
doors back. What the hell? Looking up, she understood why.

Six
different jets in the tiled shower, all pointed toward the center.

Steam
drifted over the door as she slid it back, waiting for the water to
calibrate, and a glance in the mirror showed her that her concerns
about her appearance were valid. Dark circles under her eyes made her
look “rode hard and put back wet”, but it wasn’t
exhaustion—those circles were traced with worry and with the
feeling of being overwhelmed and well fucked. As her ass throbbed
with the memory of having Jeremy stroke her from the inside, riding
her with a gentle, persistent touch that made her break boundaries
left, right and upside down, she felt her heart stop in her throat.

Would
Mike have made love to her like that? She was absolutely exhausted
and yet…a part of her remained unsatisfied. This shower should have
been for two (
three?
), a chance to soak in the heat and to
enjoy the sudsy, wet warmth of washing with Jeremy (
and Mike?
).
Stepping into the shower, the hot needles of water made her tip her
head back and let her long hair graze against her ass, the hair soon
soaked, hands making quick work of shampooing and soaping up, then
rinsing.

Imagining
Jeremy’s hands on hers, a hot, steamy shower, more than enough room
in here for…three.

Her
fantasy. Her choice.

A
sick dread settled in the space between her navel and her hipbones, a
nauseating churning as she played through the last ten minutes in her
mind. Mike. This was Mike’s apartment. Jeremy had brought her here,
knowing it was Mike’s, yet he’d said nothing. Not one word.

Was
this a set-up? Had the men colluded to make this happen? No.
Impossible. Jeremy would never…

How
well do you really know Jeremy?

Part
of her felt so violated. Invaded. Exposed. Of all the times for Mike
to re-enter her life, did it have to be right now, literally minutes
after she’d chosen to expose herself to a man on a new level, to be
more intimate and nuanced?

Bzzzz
.

Of
all the times for her mom to text. Lydia clambered out of the shower
and opened her phone, dripping onto the floor and not caring.

Mom’s
rallying. Come back.

Joy
bloomed inside Lydia’s chest, replacing the questioning and
second-guessing about Jeremy. She texted back:

THANK
GOD! We’ll be there soon.

The
phone rang seconds after Lydia hit “Send,” startling her. Quick
reflexes saved it from taking a swim in the toilet.

“
Lydia?”

“
Mom,
that is awesome! What’s going on? Is Grandma awake?”

“
No,
but the doctors say she’s far more stable, and now they can do the
procedure they weren’t sure about.”

A
huge sigh of relief. “Oh, Mom.” Choking up, Lydia couldn’t
complete the sentence.

“
Is
that water I hear? Where are you? It’s not raining. Meribeth and I
just got back and the skies are clear,” Sandy said, her voice
curious.

“
I’m
just taking a shower,” she blurted before she realized the
implications of that.

“
A
shower?”

“
Jeremy
has a friend with an apartment nearby, and…uh…” Caught! Lydia
had a million words she wanted to say in her defense, but settled on
keeping her mouth shut before it got her into any more trouble.

Sandy
made a sound that was half laugh, half disbelief.

“
Mom,
I…I’m sorry,” was all Lydia could manage.

“
Oh,
honey, I understand.” If the next words out of her mouth were
“young love,” Lydia would eat the bar of soap staring at her.

Sandy
continued. “Death makes people reach for whatever makes them feel
most alive.”

“
Yes!”
Relief washed over her. Being caught by Mike was bad enough. Being
found out by her mom…

“
If
your father were here we’d be fucking like bunnies right now.”

“
No!”
Horror swept over her, the word a scream that poured out of her
unexpectedly. “I did not need to hear that! Mooooom!”

Hysterical
laughter was her response.

“
It
makes you feel alive. You know, we conceived you after my Uncle
Howard died—”

“
Ew!
Don’t need to hear this! Grandma’s not dying!”

“
There
was this dark coat room at the funeral home—”

“
Stick
to texting from now on, Mom, and I love you.”

Click
.

Bang
bang bang
.

“
You
okay?” both men shouted in unison.

“
You
screamed,” Mike added.

Lydia
held her face in her hands, wet hair looping over her neck, trying to
brain-bleach images of Mom and Dad going at it like…

Her
and Jeremy. Or her and Mike.

Or
her and Jeremy
and
Mike…

“
Fine!
I’m fine!” she screeched back, climbing back into the shower. A
three-minute quickie rinse and she was back out, towel drying her
hair, realizing she had no clothes.

“
Can
someone get my clothes?”

Mumbles
and a few sighs, then shuffling sounds. Jeremy opened the door and
stepped in, closing it behind him.

“
You
okay?” Concern creased his brow, and he looked back behind him at
the closed door, nervous and a bit shaken.

“
Never
let me go into the coat room at a funeral home.”

“
A
funeral home?” Jeremy could feel his voice go up half an octave.
“Oh, God, did Madge just
die
?” Here he was worried about
what Mike would think and—deep in the bowels of his worthless
heart—that Lydia was about to ditch him and go off into the sunset
with perfect Mike, and in the midst of everything her grandmother had
just kicked the bucket.

Shallow
Jeremy. Nothing new to see here.

“
She
what?” Horror covered Lydia’s face as she dropped her panties,
leg in midair over the elastic hole.

“
You
said funeral home…”

Lydia
slapped a hand over her heart, her breast red with flushing. “That
was a joke!”
Smack
. Her open palm hit his chest hard, enough
to leave a red mark.

“
Why
would you joke about funerals at a time like this?”

“
Blame
my mother.”

“
Why
would Sandy joke about funerals at a time like—”

Smack
.
She batted him on the shoulder again, and he yelped, reaching up to
touch the spot. It didn’t hurt, but it surprised the hell out of
him.

Angry
tears filled her eyes. “Would you stop with the judgment?”

Judgment?
“What?” He looked around the room helplessly, as if someone could
save him, but it was for naught. Trapped by an unreasonable woman,
all he could think to do was to offer chocolate and wine.

Neither
of which he had.

“
Lydia,
honey, I don’t know what I did wrong here.” Admitting defeat was
all he could do short of a box of Godivas and a bottle of Pinot
Grigio.

“
I
can’t—I can’t—” She sobbed, curling into herself, her face
tight with tears, crumpled in emotional pain so strong it had to come
out through her skin. Helpless, he stood and watched her, marveling
at her beauty and her vulnerability. So few people were willing—or
even able—to show their raw, true self when emotions surfaced that
he was drawn just to watch her, observing something rare in the woman
he was falling in love with.

Where
did that thought come from?

He
wrapped her into his arms, and she sobbed against his chest, her wet
hair staining his sweatshirt. He didn’t care. Was beyond caring,
given the way the last twenty-four hours had gone. This time
yesterday they’d been playing at the campground. Now they were
hiding in Mike’s bathroom after experiencing the most mind-blowing
sexual experience of his life.