Deliciously Obedient (32 page)

Brutal,
the imagery she’d shoved to the forefront of her mind, forcing
herself to face all the cruelties that his withdrawal of interest
could mean. The implications of being used and turned into a piece of
meat were quite easy to mull over, examine and dissect, analyze and
absorb.

But
being the object of his ongoing desire? Considering that was too
great a risk for her carefully constructed reality that protected her
from scenes exactly like this.

Too
raw.

Too
open.

Too
real.

Too
Lydia.

With
Jeremy she could slowly open the door to that self, one inch at a
time, entirely on her own terms and with the buy-in of his respect
for her
no
.

With
Mike?

She
didn’t have a
no
.

And
above all that he had done to her, the scars he’d left, the wounds
he reopened before her, those eyes hungry for so much more than her
sex, she suspected that he, too, was overwhelmed by the enormity of
what connected them to each other.

He
had to say it first.

She
couldn’t survive being shattered again.

The
ball was in his court, and so far, he hadn’t hit a serve she cared
to return.

The
server appeared with five small plates, each holding a different kind
of food. Appetite dashed, all she wanted was more alcohol and time to
sort through her feelings.

“
You
ordered?”

“
I
hope you like it.”

Not
giving an inch, was he? As the server described the dishes—more
chevre-stuffed figs, tiny samosas, enchiladas with a delightful
chipotle aioli—she found herself wondering how Caleb was doing at
Jeddy’s, and made a note to herself to compare the food and give
Caleb some tips.

Right
after she stopped thinking about Mike’s face between her thighs.

When
would that be?
she wondered as she stuffed an extraordinary
samosa in her mouth, flavor bursting all over her tongue and cheeks,
as if her taste buds weren’t enough to capture every savory bit.

Never.
It would be never.

Mike
took one, too, and the shared look of appreciation made her see him
in a new light. Nervous. He was more rattled than he was letting on.
That made him seem more human. Fallible. Ordinary and approachable.

All
she wanted was to understand him, and for him to know her, and
somehow—maybe—to forge a few shaky steps toward more knowing.

That
was all.

Might
as well ask for the moon.

“
Amazing,”
he said, reaching for an enchilada. Following his cue, she took one
and bit into it. Chicken and cheese and some kind of salsa verde
blended with the chipotle aioli.

“
My
grandmother would love this place.”

“
How
is she?”

The
normality of the conversation—a man and a woman admiring food,
talking about family—made each beat make more sense.

“
Recovering.
They did a surgical procedure to help with some blockages around her
heart, and pretty soon she and Ed will be back to their corsets and
chains.”

The
choke of surprise Mike emitted made her giggle. “Excuse me?”

That’s
right. Mike had no idea about Madge’s…proclivities. And her
openness about it. Jeremy knew, though. Hours of conversation and
jokes and the slow reveal—already interrupted—gave him a better
panoramic view of her.

Mike
only had the telescopic lens.

And
the video camera, of course.

Leaning
on the table, chin in palm, she smiled sweetly at him and said, “My
grandma knows herself very well, and that self is a fiery sexpot
octogenarian.”

He
nodded, wiping his mouth and taking a big swig of the double shot the
server had silently replaced. “Good genes. Hope you inherited
them.”

Her
turn to laugh. “I can only hope to be half the woman my grandmother
is.”

“
You’re
already more than enough.” His hand covered the back of hers. The
room suddenly grew warm and still, everything in balance, her skin
absorbing his heat with a pleasure she couldn’t deny. Mike—the
very real Mike—was holding her hand at a table at a tapas bar in
Waltham, and his eyes were kind and wanting, contemplative and
pensive, but entirely on her.

“
Enough
for two?” she joked. Wincing, she let herself slowly lower her
defenses. Might as well, right? If there’s ever a time to be open
and honest, it should be when you’re sitting across from the guy
who indirectly made sure a billion people saw your gyrating ass and
heard your sex voice, after just being encouraged by your boyfriend
to fuck him.

Or
something like that.

Her
head hurt from the confusion. The drink? She needed another, reaching
with her uncovered hand to pour a full glass, sipping it slowly while
stealing looks at a very steady, very intense Mike, who stared right
back.

With
a smile.

Transformative.
No other word applied, and no other word should apply. Truly—how
could the man change so easily, and yet still retain the steel core
inside him? He was a rock. Staying calm through all of this. Only now
did it occur to her how much he had dealt with these past months.
Really hit her—the emotional hit he’d taken had been equal to
hers.

Greater,
in some respects.

“
How
are you?” she said quietly, making his grin broaden, his cheeks
rugged and full, the effect her words had on him evident in sparkling
eyes that seemed to say,
Thank you for showing up. Finally.

“
Never
been better,” he said slowly, not at all intoning the familiar
pabulum most of us exchange in daily life as we pretend to care.
“I’ve truly never,” he added, squeezing her hand, sending a
tingling through her, “been better.”

“
What
have you been doing this whole time?”

He
looked away and released her hand. She grabbed his, making him tilt
his head and smile again, this time without teeth, just a warm look
of compassion that made her think that there was so much more to him.

To
them.

In
whatever form that took.

Jeremy
.
He should have been the elephant in the room, and yet she’d barely
thought of him for the past few minutes, and Mike clearly had
thoughts only for her. The build of something greater than both of
them—all three of them—began inside her, a foundation she would
need to use as a surface that would support the weight of
nonconformity.

It
better be strong enough.

Because
she wasn’t quite sure she was.

And
then—

“
I’ve
spent the last month renting a lovely cabin at this really beautiful
little wonderland,” he said, his thumb slowly caressing the soft
web of her hand, hypnotic and enticing.

“
Really?
Where?” Before the words were out she knew.

Knew.

And
he knew she knew.

“
Oh,
God,” she gasped, snatching her hand away and using it to cover her
horror. Or to hold in the pain. She wasn’t sure which was more
true.

Probably
both.

“
You
infiltrated Camp Charles?” He started to smile, but buddy, she
wasn’t joking around. “Camp Charles” was what they’d called
their home in the off season, when it was just the eight of them and
specially invited guests, relatives coming for holidays and weekends,
when Mom and Dad could just be themselves and not spend their days
like a spider monkey with an espresso pot, helping campers with
anything and everything.

“
I
guess I did.”

“
Either
you did or you didn’t.”

“‘
Infiltrated’
is rather harsh.”

“
So
is stalking me like a crazy motherfucker after getting me out of the
country.”

“
Not
one part of that sentence makes sense.”

“
Neither
do you!”

“
Fair
enough.”

“
Don’t
patronize me!”

“
I’m
agreeing with you.”

“
I
can’t tell the difference with you.”

“
That’s
not my fault.”

“
It
sure as hell isn’t mine!”
Breathe, Lydia, breathe.
The
words flowed through her like an in breath, then an out breath,
pushing her pain out, her sense in.

Nope.
Didn’t work.

Were
they talking in circles, or was that the wine? Lydia couldn’t tell
anymore, though she suspected she was deluding herself by trying to
attribute even one sentence of this conversation to the alcohol.
Coherent, strong and clear, Mike’s words were exactly what they
seemed to be, on the surface or underneath.

There
were no layers now. It was all right here. He wanted her. Jeremy
wanted her.

They
wanted her.

First
things first.

“
Make
the argument for lying about your identity, renting a cabin and
living like some kind of spy among my people.”

“
You
make it sound so anthropological.”

An
arched eyebrow was all she could muster. And then she muttered,
“Anthropological assholes abound.”

“
Good
point. Miles is a bit like something out of
Gorillas in the Mist
.”

“
That’s
not
what I meant.”

A
self-satisfied chuckle from him made her heart rate soar, and not out
of passion. Insufferable. Full of himself, so, so, so—

God
damned hot.

“
I’ll
talk, but you have to listen. And none of that.” One finger pointed
to her face.

“
None
of what?”

“
Those
looks you give me.”

“
What
looks?”

“
Just
like that. You’re doing it now.”

“
Doing
what?”

“
Judging
me.”

Leaning
back in her chair, she rolled her neck and gave him a cocky
half-smile. “Look, buddy, you can make plenty of requests of me.
You can even issue orders—”

That
made him raise
his
eyebrow.

“—
but
you cannot dictate how I react to something you say. None of this
works like that. I get to feel what I feel and I get to express that
however I want. And I’m wearing my big-girl panties tonight, which
means I can handle the consequences of that.”

“
I’m
sad you’re wearing any panties at all.”

Whatever
words were on the tip of her tongue, ready to joust with, came to a
sharp halt at
that
.

“
I—”