Backwoods

by Jill Sorenson

  Five seconds ticked by before he found her. He leaned his forearm against the top of the machine, seeming amused by her strange behavior.

  Well, fuck him. Her personality quirks weren’t fodder for his entertainment any more than her feelings were his playthings. She jumped to her feet and shoved past him, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  “It’s not what you think,” he said.

  The pool area was just ahead, surrounded by an iron fence. It was dark and empty at this late hour. She fumbled for her key card to open the gate. When she slipped inside and closed the gate behind her, she felt safer.

  He gripped the iron bars, looking in. “I didn’t sleep with Lydia.”

  “I saw you kiss her.”

  “It wasn’t like that. She needed a shoulder to cry on.”

  “That’s all she needed?”

  After a short hesitation, he nodded.

  “Don’t lie to me,” she said, reading the deception. He wasn’t smooth, like Ray. “Don’t ever lie to me.”

  “She wanted to get back at Ray for cheating,” he admitted.

  “By having sex with you?”

  “I didn’t touch her.”

  “Were you tempted?”

  A muscle in his jaw flexed. “Yes.”

  Bastard. “Why didn’t you do it?”

  “Why do you think?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Because I want you.”

  “You’ve already had her.”

  He squinted through the bars, seeming insulted by this statement. “Come on, Abby. That’s not why I said no.”

  Abby brushed the tears from her cheeks. “Do you know how I felt when I saw your ex-wife go into your hotel room?”

  “Tell me.”

  “Like I was dying.”

  His lips curved into a smile.

  “Why is that funny?”

  “It’s not,” he said, sobering.

  “You think I’m crazy.”

  “No.”

  “You’re laughing at me!”

  “I’m not laughing at you,” he said, his throat working with agitation. “I’m smiling because it feels good to know you care. I can’t believe how fucking lucky I am.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re brave and smart and hot as hell.”

  “I’m not brave,” she whispered. “I’m afraid of everything.”

  “You might be afraid, but it doesn’t stop you from taking risks or fighting back. Underneath that beauty is the heart of a lion.”

  She flushed at the compliment, unable to look away.

  “I love that you came to my room to be with me,” he continued, holding her gaze. “I love the way you speak your mind and put yourself out there. From the first moment we met, I thought there was something between us. Something special. Something real. But I didn’t know you felt the same way until now.”

  She closed her eyes, overwhelmed with emotion. It was too much. She was too invested. “You’re scaring me.”

  “I don’t want to scare you. I want to take you to bed.”

  The reminder of physical pleasure settled her nerves. She could handle sex. It was the reason she’d sought him out.

  Taking a deep breath, she opened the gate and joined him on the other side. He didn’t crowd her, but he didn’t give her a polite amount of space, either. She felt the tension in his muscles, the heat between them.

  “No more pretty words,” she said in his ear. “Just fuck me.”

  He didn’t smile at this command. Maybe he was done smiling for the night. She thought he might press her back against the metal gate and take her right there. He glanced around, as if to make sure they were still alone. Instead of ravaging her in the deserted pool area, he grasped her hand and guided her toward his room. That was probably for the best. She didn’t want to get interrupted again.

  As they passed the ice machine, he pulled her into her hiding place and pinned her against the wall. His mouth descended on hers, hot and demanding. She returned the kiss with fervor, wrapping her arms around his neck.

  He broke the contact, breathing hard.

  She gasped as he sank to his knees before her. His hands slid up her dress, gliding along the outsides of her thighs. Anyone who happened by could see her. Depending on the angle, they could see him. When his fingertips found her lace panties, he tugged gently, stripping the fabric down her hips.

  “What—what are you doing?” she asked, flattening her palms on the wall behind her.

  His answer was to push up her skirt. He touched his tongue to her, kissing the closed lips of her sex.

  Abby studied the empty hallway, her pulse racing. She didn’t think she could respond in such a high-pressure situation, but her body softened to his warm, wet licks. She moaned, widening her stance a little. He let go of her dress and took her panties all the way off, careful with her bruised ankle. Then he rose to his feet. His erection strained the fly of his jeans as he kissed her mouth again, sharing her taste.

  “I thought you wanted me in your bed,” she murmured.

  “I want you anywhere.”

  “How about...behind a closed door?”

  He tucked her panties into his pocket and took her straight to his room. As soon as they arrived, he pushed her back to the door. They kissed hungrily, hands groping, tongues entwined. He cupped her naked buttocks with a groan, grinding his erection against her cleft. She broke the kiss to help him get his shirt off. He pulled her dress over her head. While she fumbled with the clasp of her bra, he unbuttoned the fly of his jeans. Her breasts tumbled free. Moistening his lips, he reached into his pocket for a condom.

  She realized he’d taken her request seriously. He was going to fuck her right here against the door.

  It sounded hot, and she didn’t doubt she’d enjoy every second. But after his teasing licks by the ice machine, and the steamy encounter at the hot springs, she longed to explore his body. Falling to her knees, she snatched the condom from his palm and tossed it on the bed. Then she tugged his jeans down his hips and lowered the waistband of his boxers. His cock jutted forth, thick and rock-hard. She wanted it in her mouth.

  Looking up at him, she stroked his heated flesh in her hand. He was bigger than average. She didn’t know how much of him she could swallow. Directing him toward her lips, she swirled her tongue around the tip, using her saliva to get him really wet. Then she stretched her mouth around him and sucked.

  He didn’t try to gag her or guide her head, the way some men did, but he wasn’t shy about penetrating her mouth. Bracing his hands on the door, he watched her parted lips slide up and down on him. When she demonstrated the depth she was comfortable with, he thrust inside to that point, maybe a half inch beyond it. She moaned, digging her fingernails into his taut buttocks as he filled her mouth. The nubby carpet dug into her knees. She found herself taking him deeper, enjoying the minor discomfort and submissive pose.

  “Fuck,” he said, pulling away from her.

  “You don’t have to stop.”

  “I want to be inside you.”

  She wasn’t going to argue. The performance and sensations had turned her on. When she straightened, he took her in his arms again, urging her toward the bed. They fell across the mattress together, his erection sliding along the cleft of her sex.

  “I thought of you this morning,” he said, rubbing his thumb across her cheek. “Your sweet mouth...”

  “Please,” she murmured.

  “I like this,” he said, moving his hand between her legs. She was wet and slippery. His blunt fingertip plunged in and out, making slick sounds. Writhing with arousal, she spread her thighs wider.

  “Oh God,” she said.

  “Are you ready?”

  As if he didn’t know
. He toyed with her stiff nipples, pinching and sucking them for so long she wanted to scream. Then he kissed his way down her body, pressing his lips to her quivering belly. He removed her sandals, very gently, before settling his mouth between her legs. Once there, he teased her with soft nibbles and light flicks of his tongue.

  Desperate for release, she shoved him off her and crawled across the bed, searching for the condom. When she found it, she tore the package open and rolled the latex on him. Then she pushed him down on the mattress and climbed astride.

  “Easy,” he said, gripping her hips to steady her. Even as wet as she was, she struggled to accommodate his thickness. She leaned forward to adjust the angle. He gritted his teeth as she enveloped him inch by inch.

  “Ooh,” she said when he was all the way in. She closed her eyes, relishing the sensation. For several seconds, they stayed like that, connected and motionless. When she started to move, he helped lift her up and down. Back and forth. His shaft grew slick with her moisture and her breasts jiggled with each thrust.

  “I can’t last much longer,” he groaned.

  She braced her hands on his chest and covered his mouth with hers, biting his lower lip. “Touch me.”

  When she straightened, he looked down at where their bodies were joined. He licked the pad of his thumb and placed it over her clit. Her breath hitched as he moved in slow circles. She arched her spine, lost in sensation. When the orgasm broke over her, she threw her head back and sobbed his name, bucking like a wild woman.

  She was still shivering with ecstasy when he rolled on top of her. Wrapping his fists in her hair, he slammed his body into hers, pounding her against the mattress. Once, twice, three times. His last thrust penetrated to the hilt. He came with a hoarse shout, his shoulders quaking from the power of his release.

  When it was over, she clung to his neck, in no hurry to push him away. His penis pulsed inside her. He was hot and sweaty, his chest hair rough against her breasts. His heart thumped in time with hers. Finally he withdrew from her and rose to dispose of the condom. Then he joined her in bed again, pulling her close.

  It wasn’t just sex. If she didn’t need more, she would get up and leave. Staying with him, sleeping beside him...that was relationship stuff.

  “I forgot how much I used to hate Lydia,” she said, stroking his hair.

  “You hated her?”

  “I hated them both.”

  She still hated Ray sometimes for hurting Brooke. The plane ticket stunt had been typical. Ray wasn’t always a terrible father, and he sincerely loved Brooke. He just didn’t seem capable of giving her his complete attention. Expensive gifts and infrequent visits were the extent of his parenting commitment. He’d become more driven each year, more selfish.

  “What changed?” Nathan asked.

  “Remember how I said I felt out of place at my dad’s house?”

  “Yes.”

  “My stepmom treated me like a guest. But Lydia treated Brooke like her own daughter. That meant a lot to me.”

  “She had a miscarriage.”

  “When?”

  “Years ago.”

  “I didn’t know,” Abby said.

  “She always wanted a girl.”

  “Do you think that’s why she’s been so good to Brooke?”

  “Maybe. Brooke is easy to get along with, too.”

  Abby contemplated that for a moment. In many ways, Lydia had been a better parent to Brooke than Ray. It was one of the positive outcomes of their divorce. “I can’t hate someone who loves my child.”

  He lifted his head to study her. “I know what you mean.”

  “Do you hate Ray?”

  “I’ll never like him.”

  Abby turned off the lights and pulled a sheet over their naked bodies. Then she curled up next to him, savoring his warmth. What a strange turn of events. She would never have imagined having an affair with Nathan Strom, or feeling sorry for Ray and Lydia.

  A week ago, she hadn’t believed she could fall in love again.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  BROOKE WASN’T PAYING attention to Teen Wolf.

  Her mind kept straying to Wyatt and his father. She knew the police had found a body in the woods. She wasn’t looking forward to seeing it up close. Her skin crawled whenever she pictured that poor boy in the cold, dark morgue. What kind of father killed his own son? Her dad was no prize, but at least he wasn’t a homicidal maniac.

  Although she relished Leo’s company, she felt restless. Now that they were in a safe place, she had time to second-guess her behavior over the past few days.

  They’d sort of hooked up at Mavericks this winter. She’d twined her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his. After a short hesitation, he’d responded. He’d kissed her like a boyfriend, putting his hands on her body and his tongue in her mouth. Then he’d stopped and pushed her away, as if remembering who she was. Instead of talking to her about it, he’d turned on the engine and driven out of the parking lot. He’d gone straight to her dorm at Berkeley, getting rid of her as soon as possible.

  Since then, they’d only seen each other a few times. They still hung out and cuddled. Her playful attempts to instigate another make-out session had failed. He’d made it clear that he wasn’t going to kiss her again, let alone have sex with her. He’d told her to get herself off, as if that would lessen her desire for him.

  Maybe she’d pursued Leo because she felt more comfortable with him than with anyone else. She didn’t trust other boys as much. Alex had claimed she wasn’t feminine or relaxed enough to come. Leo had said that wasn’t true, but he’d also seemed annoyed with her for touching him. It was confusing. Nice girls weren’t supposed to get horny or be aggressive. They were demure and undemanding, frolicking in meadows with butterflies.

  It troubled her to think that she’d done something to draw Gary Nash’s attention. That he’d targeted her because she’d been too friendly to him on the trail. Her bikini was too small, her shorts too short. Her manner was too provocative. She was too desperate, too needy. Too energetic in her affections. Even her mother thought so.

  She studied Leo from beneath lowered lashes. He was sitting beside her on the bed, his injured leg propped up on pillows. His jet-black hair was casually disheveled. If she leaned in to smell him, he’d smell good. He was smooth and clean and handsome. When she thought of Wyatt’s less-attractive features, slack with death, her heart twisted in her chest. She and Leo were lucky in so many ways.

  Leo muted the TV. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You’re acting weird.”

  “How?”

  He gestured to the distance between them. That was unusual. Nine times out of ten, she was plastered against him.

  “My mom told me to stop hanging all over you.”

  “She did?”

  Brooke hugged a pillow to her chest, shrugging.

  He looked hurt. “I thought she liked me.”

  She smiled at the misunderstanding. “She does like you. She thinks I’m bothering you. Throwing myself at you.”

  “You’re not bothering me.”

  To her dismay, tears filled her eyes.

  “Why are you crying?”

  She brushed the tears away, embarrassed. “You told me to find someone else to...”

  “Fuck?”

  For the first time in years, she couldn’t bring herself to repeat a vulgar term.

  “Forget what I said. I was being an asshole.”

  “You meant it.”

  “Actually, I didn’t.”

  She wasn’t sure she believed him. “I know you get mad when I touch you. When I try to make you want me.”

  “You don’t have to try.”

  “I don’t?”

  “I’d want
you even if you didn’t touch me. And I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at the situation. I’m mad because I can’t have you.”

  Brooke studied him for a moment, her heart racing. “Why not?”

  He glanced away, as if reluctant to elaborate.

  “Because of my dad?”

  “Because of a lot of things.”

  “Like what?”

  He didn’t answer.

  She shoved the pillow aside and rose from the bed. All of the hurt and frustration and fear she’d experienced over the past few days seemed to well up inside her. “If you’re not interested, just say so. I can handle it. I’d rather get rejected than strung along because you don’t have the balls to tell me the truth.”

  His mouth thinned with anger. “You want the truth?”

  “Yes.”

  “You remember that photo of us at the pool party?”

  She flushed at the memory, nodding. It was right after graduation. She’d had her first taste of alcohol, gotten tipsy and fallen into the pool in a yellow sundress. When she came out of the water, the fabric clung to every curve. One of her friends had taken a photo of Leo carrying her into the house. She’d been trying to kiss him. He’d been trying to keep her decently covered, without success. That image had been uploaded to Facebook, but removed at Brooke’s request. “You saw it?”

  “Not only did I see it, your dad saw it.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “No.”

  “How?”

  “He was snooping around my room, and I had it saved on my computer. With other assorted images.”

  It took her a few seconds to understand his meaning. The photo had showed a lot of skin, including half her ass. He’d been wearing low-slung board shorts. They’d both been dripping wet. “You were looking at it for...”

  “Yes,” he said, not meeting her gaze.

  She couldn’t believe he’d used that picture for sexual gratification when there was explicit porn all over the internet. The idea gave her hot flashes. “Did my dad ask why it was on your computer?”

  “He’s a guy. He didn’t have to ask.”