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against her, calves entangled between, their feet
jockeying for warmth. That smaller, shriveled member rose up as her
own heat infused his body, and she realized once again her power.
Snuggling under the covers, she wanted nothing more than this. He
kissed her neck, sat up and handed her a cup of coffee. “We both
need this and we should drink it before it’s too cold.”
    “ This
is nothing like the coffee in Iceland,” she said, suddenly wistful.
    “ I’ll
bet if you asked your parents to build you a garden-top lounging area
with a coffee shop underneath, they’d do it.” He snickered, and
the first sense of unease on this trip, other than the drive into the
campground, hit her.
    “ What
do you mean by that?” she said, trying to cover it, using a jocular
tone that was more fake than sincere.
    “ I
mean your dad adores you.” His voice went husky. “And your
mom…God, I got the third degree last night.” He rubbed his eyes
and took a sip of the coffee, staring straight ahead.
    Lydia
didn’t know what to make of it. Was this good? Was this bad? Was he
afraid? Was he going to run away? Everything was so new, and unlike
with Matt, this felt more like real life. Everything during her short
time with Matt—no, Mike —had been a wonderland, completely
divorced from who she really was and how she really lived. Having
Jeremy here in her bed, naked next to her, having just made coffee
and bringing it to her, making comments and asking questions along
with astute observations—it all struck home. Home. That was what
this was about. She was home.
    She’d
never been home with Mike, had she? Never had a chance to see how he
would operate with Pete or Sandy, or Miles, or any of them. There was
no awkward meshing of her past and her present. That she was
forging with Jeremy, wasn’t she? The unease, then, was the feeling
of letting a man in. Bringing him here was an enormous step, and one
that Sandy had acknowledged, and Krysta, and Miles, and Pete, and all
of them. Because Lydia didn’t do that.
    She
drank her coffee and stared straight ahead. The silence was
overwhelmed by the chatter of birds and squirrels, and other forest
critters. Leaves wisped against the cabin, falling softly to the dirt
ground outside. The shouts of small children running about, and the
occasional whir of a bike wheel flying past, were all she heard.
    Something
dull and checked out in Jeremy’s eyes faded as he turned and looked
down at her. Sitting up in bed, with the comforter pulled up to their
chins, one arm looped out for the coffee mug. She felt like a couple,
like a settled couple, and yet what was she supposed to do
with the dreams?
    It
was not as if Mike and she and Jeremy were going to live in some
happy, unconventional polyamorist vision of perfection, right?
Gulping her coffee, she damn near burned the back of her mouth,
Jeremy’s eyes questioning, but his mouth remaining firmly shut.

    “ Where
are you taking me?” Jeremy demanded, Lydia’s silence driving him
nuts. The campground was growing on him—especially the crisp autumn
air and making love under the thick down comforter in their cabin
last night. And this morning. And, hopefully, tonight…
    He
hardened at the memory of her soft moans and hips rising up to meet
his tongue, how her hands roamed his back and squeezed his ass while
he pumped into her, the way her eyes closed and lips parted in deep
concentration right before an orgasm…
    A
man could definitely get used to this.
    The
Lydia she’d become in one short day was remarkable. A blend of the
woman he’d met and who had unfolded before him in Iceland with
someone more textured, more centered, Lydia scampered ahead of him on
a trail that seemed abandoned, the skeletal echo of foot traffic
reflected only in a thin strip of bare ground, not quite the width of
his foot, that snaked between overgrown brush and tiny pine trees.
Whoever had traversed this path last had done so with light feet.
    “ You’ll
see in a