Page 18 of Obedience

Dylan:

‘Completely’

The moment of weakness had got the better of them both. Dylan bounded upstairs and jumped in the shower. She dressed in fresh white boxers, a white vest, and grey sweatpants. Her wet hair made her curls tight and short, but Greta would have to take her as she found her. With her foot bouncing restlessly on tiptoes beneath the kitchen table, Dylan sat, nibbling at her thumbnail as the excitement of the texts slowly faded. She still wasn't sure what she wanted or if their dynamic would even work.

Too late.

The doorbell rang, yanking her back to reality. Sucking in a steadying breath, she made her way up the hall, closing her mum’s bedroom door on the way.

Pulling back the front door, Dylan managed to suppress a whimper as Greta stood before her in a black trench coat belted at the waist, the hem stopping just above her knees. With bare legs, and vertigo-inducingly high heels. The noise of Dylan’s gulp seemed amplified in the narrow space. A surge of heat flared low in her belly, settling between her thighs until she throbbed at the mere sight of Greta.

‘Doctor Vincent,’ she said with feigned confidence, pushing the door fully open with her arm outstretched.

With her eyes trained on Greta, Dylan retreated into the hall, a smirk tugging at her lips as Greta hooked a leg back and slammed the door shut, paying no attention to the harsh clatter of the glass panel. Her thick brown waves were down, the layers brushing her collarbones. Even with subtle make-up—winged eyes and lips shimmering with tinted gloss—Dylan’s words had caught in her throat, as she opened her mouth to speak but closed it, taking a much-needed breath instead. Dylan tried again to take the lead but Greta cut her off by raising a finger.

‘Don’t ruin this by speaking, Dylan,’ Greta said firmly. ‘This will be the last time we meet. I had wanted to do it via the agency, but you declined.’

Dylan narrowed her eyes at Greta's chastising tone. Were their old roles really sustainable now?

‘Greta…’ Dylan said boldly but hesitated a beat too long.

Greta cocked a brow. ‘Yes?’

Unsure of Greta’s expectations, Dylan held back her aching desire to move towards her; to wrap her arms around her and kiss her on the mouth.

‘Have you come to be fucked by Remi?’

Greta's lips parted slightly with a soft breath, making Dylan's heart pound harder and faster. ‘If I say yes, will you oblige?’

‘That depends.’ Dylan’s voice was just above a whisper, gaze fixed on the glorious woman slowly swaying toward her.

Each click of her heels on the tiles made Dylan’s pulse quicken even more. Beads of sweat trickled down her back, as Greta closed the distance between them. The collision of Dylan’s uncertainties and closeness of their proximity was almost too much for her to stand.

‘On?’

‘The rules.’ Dylan licked her lips. ‘Are the rules the same?’

Reaching out Greta ran both hands over Dylan’s chest, drawing a sharp breath from them both. Something flickered across Greta’s face. For the briefest moment, she looked almost undecided, as though caught between two versions of herself. The muscles in her jaw tightened, and her gaze lingered as a faint furrow creased her brow. The air between them seemed to thrum with something surely she couldn’t ignore. She had to feel it too. Surely she could feel it?

Eyes fixed on Dylan’s, Greta moved her elegant fingers to the buttons of her jacket. ‘The rules are the same. Why would they have changed? You’re nothing to me, Dylan,’—she opened the first button—‘but nobody obeys me like you do.’ The coldness in her voice seemed to surprise even Greta as her expression faltered for a split second.

With her teeth sunk deep into her bottom lip, Dylan tilted her head, watching intently as Greta opened the second button. ‘And what happens if I don’t want that anymore?’

Greta’s hands froze. Her demeanour suddenly guarded. ‘You couldn’t have texted me this change of heart, Dylan? You could have saved me a journey and some self-respect.’

A sudden, violent shift filled Dylan’s chest. She wanted her. Fuck, she wanted her more than anything but she didn’t want her on Greta’s terms. She didn’t want Margot.

‘I’m sorry…I—’ Dylan dipped her head.

‘Go upstairs while I wait for an Uber,’ Greta interrupted, refastening her buttons and stepping back.

‘Greta, I’m…I…’

‘Why did you agree to this?’ Greta asked, a moment of earnestness breaking through her glare.

‘I missed you,’ Dylan replied softly, her gaze fixed on Greta’s.

The words suspended between them for a silent beat as Greta frowned. ‘You missed me?’ Her voice was thready.