The thought of being held by Jake, of being restrained and at his mercy sends an unexpected thrill down my spine. Throwing caution to the wind and going out with someone like him only intensifies it.
Pushing all troubling thoughts aside in favor of letting go of it all for once, I smile and lean my head back against the headrest, closing my eyes. “Maybe today I want to be kidnapped.”
Even over the revving of the engine as Jake takes off down the road, I can hear the smile in his voice when he says, “I’ll see what I can do.”
EIGHT: Jake
I glance at Laney where she sits in the passenger seat. I’m sure this is her version of relaxed—hands folded demurely in her lap, spine ramrod straight, head tilted back, eyes closed. Something tells me that not only does she not kick back and really relax very often, but that today she needs it more than ever. She seems . . . troubled. A little more agreeable to leave care behind her. And I’m just the guy to drive her away from all her hang-ups. Whatever it is she’s running from, I can take her mind off it. I’ll give her something much more enjoyable to think about if she’ll let me.
And she will.
She’s already mine, whether she realizes it or not. We can be the perfect distraction for each other while we’re in town. Then we’ll go our separate ways. Her to the quiet, predictable life she’s no doubt always dreamed of, and me to the next rush. It’s the ideal arrangement—a short-term, no-strings romp with a girl that offers a little bit of a challenge. I’m all but licking my lips just thinking about it.
“So, you gonna tell me what it is that you’re trying to escape?”
In my peripheral vision, I see Laney’s eyes pop open, but she doesn’t raise her head. “What makes you thinking I’m trying to escape something?”
“Oh, come on. A girl like you—gorgeous, great job, bright future—comes back to this place to take a random assignment and move back in with her parents. That’s got ‘running’ written all over it.”
I hear her sigh as she turns her head on the rest to stare out the window.
“Just trying to figure out what to do with my life. That’s all.”
“Seems to me like you’ve got everything going for you. What’s there to figure out?”
“You’d be surprised,” she says softly.
I get the feeling there’s a lot she’s not saying and doesn’t want to talk about, which is fine. I’m not really the kind of guy that likes to get that involved, anyway. I’m more curious than anything. I’ve never met a woman quite like Laney. She intrigues me. But beyond that, I just want her. Plain and simple. Nothing more. Just her in my bed, warm and soft and moaning my name. Yep. That’s it.
And I’d prefer it sooner rather than later.
“Well, lucky for you, you’re in the company of the one man who can make you forget all your worries. Just leave it to me.”
* * *
The Blue Hole is actually a deep spot in the river that happened to coincide with a brief widening, so it’s like a private cove, surrounded by trees. There’s a beach area between two big boulders, one of which is flat at the very top, making it the perfect platform for diving. There’s also a tire swing that flings you right out into the deepest part of the hole. I mean what the hell kind of country hangout would it be without a tire swing? All in all, it’s a damn cool place to chill out with friends.
Or work your charms on a goody-goody preacher’s daughter.
It takes about an hour to get there. Neither of us has said much, and that’s fine with me. I’m not one of those people who feels the need to fill every silence with small talk. Quite the opposite, in fact. I’d rather people keep their mouth shut unless they have something to say. Don’t talk just for the sake of talking. That’s one thing that ninety-nine percent of the women I’ve been involved with (however briefly) have done to irritate the shit out of me—talk too much.
But not this one. Laney seems content to stare out the window and keep her thoughts to herself. I must admit it makes me wonder what she’s thinking about, though. Is it possible that she’s daydreaming about me pulling off the road and shutting off the engine? About me dragging her out of the Jeep and walking her into the woods? About me raising up her chaste little skirt and feeling her wet panties? About me tearing them off and putting my fingers inside her? About sliding her hot, tight little body down over my c**k until she loses her breath?
Damn, I hope that’s what she’s thinking about!
Just in time to save me from getting a raging hard-on, I see the line of cars that leads up to the turn off the main road. I bypass all of them in favor of exercising my fully equipped four-wheel drive and taking to the woods to park right up next to the edge of the cove. When I cut the engine, I can hear the music before I even open the door.
I glance over at Laney. “Ready to have some fun?”
She gives me a small, doubtful smile and nods once.
I walk around to open the passenger door and help Laney out. For one thing, my Jeep is pretty high and she’s pretty tiny, but more than that, my mother taught me better. Even though I was young when she died, there are some things that stuck. This is one of them.
I take her hand in mine and lead her through the trees to the waterfront. There is a total of about thirty people in attendance, I’d guess. Some are in the water playing chicken, some are lined up to try out their acrobatic skills on the tire swing that hangs from a tree, and some are lounging on beach towels in the dappled sun.
I see lots of tan skin revealed by lots of skimpy bikinis, which is just the way I like it. Makes me wish Laney had something else to put on.
I glance at the three guys sitting on a fallen log at one end of the beach. Two are playing guitar and one is thumping his leg in time with the music as he sings backup to the lead guitarist. He’s the drummer. Drum-less, of course.
Since they’re in the middle of a song, I steer Laney toward the table set up at the edge of the trees.
“You hungry?” I ask as we approach.
She nods.
“Somebody always brings a shitload of food to these things so everyone can help themselves.”
“Should we have brought something?”
“Nah. He who throws it feeds it,” I tell her as I walk up behind the “chef” and tap him on the shoulder. “Can I get two hot dogs, man?”
When he turns around, I see a face that looks vaguely familiar, but like most of my life here in Greenfield, I’ve tried (and have mostly succeeded in) blocking it out.