Chaos Theory (Nerds of Paradise #2)(56)

And it did nothing to ease the pressure building in his groin as he skirted the edge of the lake. Getting farther away from her was supposed to clear his head, purge her from his system. Instead, he was actually starting to get worked up over the way his junk rubbed against his trousers. His whole body heated.

A smart man would drop everything and walk into the icy water to chill things out. Unfortunately for him, the last eighteen hours had proved that he wasn’t a smart man. On the other hand, Melody would have encouraged him to embrace his sexuality and not to fear the natural reactions of his own body. Fine. If that’s the way she wanted it, then that’s what he would do. But not anywhere near where she might find him.

Face burning with ridiculousness over what he was contemplating, he walked farther along the edge of the lake, looking for a secluded spot. Secluded from who, one part of his brain asked the other. It wasn’t like the squirrels would judge him for rubbing one out. Then again, squirrels did have a way of looking at you with harsh judgment in their beady little eyes.

He rolled his eyes at himself and stopped where he was, setting his backpack down. He’d only brought it along because it had soap and a washcloth in it and he hadn’t wanted to wake Melody up by rustling through looking for them. There was a tree nearby that looked like it would provide shelter and support. He approached it, studying it for a second, trying to determine whether he should sit or stand for the big event.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” he muttered, then turned and sat against the base of the trunk. What kind of an over-analytical tight-ass stressed over the proper posture for masturbating?

He did.

Well, he was going to stop. Starting now. He unzipped his pants and pushed them down over his hips. His erection jumped at the freedom, and he gasped at the contrast of cold air hitting his heat. Melody would probably tell him to pause and enjoy the sensation, really feel it. A grin pulled at the corner of his mouth at the image of her giving him self-pleasuring instruction.

“Grasp firmly and slide your hand up and down, paying special attention to the glans,” he heard her voice say. He did exactly as imaginary Melody told him to do, letting out a grunt of pleasure at the sensations that followed. “Really enjoy what you’re feeling. Immerse yourself in the sensuality of it. Feel the pleasure.”

Yeah, he was feeling it, all right. He closed his eyes, imagining Melody instructing him with her hands, feeling that instead of his own. He had a sense that given half the chance, she would love to wind him up and watch him come, as if it were a fascinating experiment. She’d probably treat getting him off like her favorite TV show, something to be binge-watched.

“Okay, Clementine,” he imagined her saying. “Just let go and feel it. Don’t think about anything, just live in the sensation. It’s only natural.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, echoes of an entirely different lecture whispered—one he’d been hammered with after his dad had discovered him doing what typical teenage boys did—but he pushed it aside, let Melody’s soothing, encouraging words fill him instead.

He pumped harder, feeling the edge rushing closer, and encouraged it by imagining Melody instructing him while naked. Her breasts—no, her entire body was perfect, and as soon as he had the chance, he would lay her out in the sunlight, legs spread, hair wild around her, smiling with joy and acceptance and—

He gasped as his climax rushed through him, pearly-white erupting with uncommon force through his hand. It felt so good that he relaxed into it, taking imaginary Melody’s advice and just feeling for a moment. And as satisfying as the orgasm was, it left him wanting to do it again with her, in her.

Of course, being who he was, thirty seconds later, he snapped his eyes open, worried that he’d messed up his trousers or his shirt. It was a good thing that he had his backpack with the washcloth and soap nearby after all, though also being who he was, he even managed to choke the chicken without getting a drop anywhere it shouldn’t be.

Just thinking about that brought a chuckle to his throat as he stood and brushed away stray dirt and twigs before pulling up and buttoning his trousers. Though why he was chuckling now, after getting himself off in the woods when he had a perfectly willing and truly wonderful woman just a few dozen yards back at camp, was just another broken piece in a life that had stopped making sense all together.

He took off his shoes and socks, rolled up the legs of his pants, and walked down to the water’s edge with the washcloth he’d used to clean himself up and the small cake of soap. He did his best to scrub the last of the dirt and the guilt away. Though he had to admit, he felt far less guilt over taking care of business than he had in years. He felt less guilt about not pushing himself to get ahead in the competition too, come to think of it. He peeled off his shirt, tossing it back to the shore, so he could give his torso a good scrub, and didn’t feel a single qualm about bathing shirtless in a lake in the full view of anyone passing by. The whole thing had him breathing deeply, the corners of his mouth sneaking up into a grin. Maybe Melody’s whole guilt-free, embracing life’s natural functions, and not worrying about paternal expectations was the way to do things after all.

He splashed cold water over his face, rubbing a hand over weary muscles that had been pulled tight in frowns for far too long. If he was being honest, he wasn’t quite ready to grow a beard, start wearing Birkenstocks, and live life in touch with his feelings all the time, but a change of perspective might just—