Chapter 13

After releasing all that pent-up need, blackness engulfed me the entire night. Since it was Sunday, I enjoyed a late morning. With a yawn, I stumbled from bed and stretched. While padding towards the bathroom, I bent and twirled. Achy, my joints creaked. At the doorway, I wavered, glancing at Bobby.

With his back to me, he was curled tight and fast asleep. Tears blurred the edge of my vision. He appeared so small, the man I loved. Loved but ... He still cared enough. He’d sent Pete to the pool. And been at the photo shoot. Not to mention the goofy little perv had started it all at the pool. With a heavy sigh, I slipped inside and eased the door shut behind me.

After washing and changing into a loose—very loose—top and shorts, I crept downstairs into the kitchen to start coffee and prepare breakfast. A smile slid across my lips; the smell of fresh brew and cooking bacon would rouse him. Since every coupon helped, and Sunday was the only day we received the newspaper, I stepped outside while the pans heated.

And froze.

That sports car was still in Pete’s driveway. All night? She’d survived with him that long? The poor thing. My jaw tensed.

“God, I want to be that poor thing,” left me as a hissing whisper.

Just as I lifted the plastic-wrapped paper, his front door opened. In a tight leopard print dress crumpled and covering only the top of her thighs, a woman staggered out on wobbly gold heels. Scattered and waving in the breeze, her long blonde hair was disheveled. With her face flushed, brows knitted, and hands flailing, she was talking with Pete. More like ranting at him since he wasn’t speaking.

Right then, the wind shifted; I couldn’t hear what she was saying. But with an arm around her waist, Pete led her along the walk. At each faltering step, she kept pushing into him. All the way to her car, the woman lunged to kiss and lick his neck while grinding against his marching frame.

It was only when he turned her towards the car that I got a better view of her. Regal-looking, she was older. When a thick shock of hair swirled across her face, she swatted it away while trying to spin towards him. As she spoke, her fists pounded his solid, immovable bulk. Though I still couldn’t make out words, her desperate tone came through. She was pleading to stay. But, with his face set, Pete held his unmoving hand planted on her chest, pinning her to the side of the vehicle.

Eyes watery, she turned. The wind blew blonde strands clear of her face.

My heart thumped. Then froze. I knew her.

“Oh my God,” I whispered. “Delores?”

Delores Minton. As in Mrs. Minton, our bank manager’s wife.

Air stuck in my throat when Pete, neck muscles pulsing, slapped her against the car, grasped her hair at the roots and lifted her wild-eyed face to his. For a split second, she quieted. Time slowed. Wind or not, I heard her hungry, winding moan when he pressed his lips onto hers. When he shoved her flat to the shiny red metal, every nerve inside me jangled.

I wanted to be her.

In his powerful grip.

Kissed in the open. Fuck it, he could ravage me in the front yard.

One of his arms was pumping. My breathing hitched; I knew where the hand was. The tingling within me ignited, spreading to all the right places. Or perhaps wrong ones. I glanced over my shoulder towards my open front door. Should I leave?

At her yelp, I flicked back to them just as Pete yanked the car door wide and pushed the still protesting woman inside. With a hard look on his face, several curt words shot from his lips. Eyes watering and chin trembling, she nodded and started the engine. As Pete stepped backwards towards his house, Delores backed along the drive. Tears flooded both cheeks. With a roar and chirp of its tires, the little red car vanished into the distance.

Once it had disappeared, I shifted my gaze and froze. With a widening grin on his face, Pete stood staring at me. At his brief wave, those flaming tingles exploded. One after another, forceful tremors shook my body. Long after he, and that smile, had withdrawn through his front door, I remained, knees shaking. At last, I pried my feet from the ground and stumbled inside.

Shudders were still meandering through me when Bobby swept into the kitchen. A large yawn escaped his mouth. When his nostrils flared, he flashed me a smile before moving to the coffeepot. While the shakes continued to swirl, I sat and read the same line in the newspaper for the twentieth time. Over and over, the desperation in Delores’ voice echoed within me.

“Don’t forget. I’m heading out tonight, dear.”

When I looked up, eyebrow raised, Bobby slid into his chair with a full plate and mug, a smile on his face. Not a smile like Pete’s. It was thinner. Simple happiness. Not the hungry one that said, “you’re next.” As quick as I could, I lifted my mug to cover an impending whimper.

I needn’t have worried. Bobby only yawned again and dug into his food. “This is great. Thanks, dear,” he said between bites.

“Um-hmm,” I mumbled.

My mind was far away. Well, not far. Only next door. Strapped atop that bench and getting fucked. So hard and for so very long that I was begging, like Delores, for him to keep me longer.

Except ... Pete was correct. Was I ready to do anything like that? No, I wasn’t. Nor was Bobby. As he ate, I watched the man I loved. My dear, sweet husband, who’d thought it was such a wonderful idea to tease Pete in the first place. Right then, I wasn’t sure I should confess to teasing Jake. Because I could read the confusion in Bobby. It had been a great fantasy. But in the basement photo shoot, he’d discovered something about himself. Okay, and about me.

“How long are you going again?” Hoping he hadn’t caught my muffled whimper, I licked my lips and gazed at my trembling fingers. Though I struggled to recall the details of his trip, tremors surged within me. Not ready. No. Not yet.

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