Butterfly Cove

by Christina Skye

  The way he had sensed her response and pulled her out of herself, encouraging her to take exactly what she wanted.

  Dizzy with those memories, Olivia covered her face. It was almost too much to imagine. She had dreamed those moments again and again over the years, drawing comfort and hope from their hot, rich possibilities, and now that the reality was here it was too enormous to fit into her calm, organized little world.

  Oh, yes, she definitely needed a plan for this.

  She heard a light tap at the door and yanked the quilt up to her neck as the door opened slowly.

  “Livie, are you up? We need to leave in an hour. I made coffee.”

  Olivia recognized the heavenly smell that had been teasing her senses. She sat up slowly. “Okay—I’m up. I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

  “Is everything okay?” Rafe stood outside the door. He hadn’t looked inside.

  Olivia realized he was giving her the time and space that he seemed to put such value on. “I’m fine.”

  It was a lie. She was in turmoil. One part of her was delirious with happiness, determined to make sure that Rafe had the happy ending he deserved. But the dark, unhappy voice from her girlhood simply sneered. This wasn’t going to work. It never did.

  Olivia took a deep breath. No more negative talk. Her hands clenched on the quilt. First she needed coffee.

  Then she needed a plan. “I’ll get in the shower. Then I’ll be right down. And then...I have a plan.”

  Actually, she didn’t have a plan. But Olivia swore she would by the time she got downstairs.

  * * *

  MORE THAN A little giddy, she washed her hair, showered quickly and then stood, letting the water beat down on her face while she tried to come up with mature, sensible possibilities.

  Only one made any sense.

  They were going to have an affair. A dark, sweltering out-of-control affair. That’s what they both needed. No soul-searching. No moral homilies or dreamy questions.

  Just an affair. With no limits and no conditions placed on it by either of them.

  She wasn’t planning any further than that, Olivia decided.

  With her eyes closed, she turned, searching for her towel. She met strong fingers instead.

  “I’ve got your towel over here. That one fell and got soaked, so I brought you a new one.”

  Olivia’s eyes were wide-open now. She was painfully aware of the long line of Rafe’s body just beyond the shower curtain.

  She discovered it was one thing to be rational when he was two floors below, but it was entirely different when he was standing close enough to touch. She watched his tanned fingers slide back the shower curtain and hold out a fresh towel.

  “Is that coffee I smell?”

  “Right here on the sink.”

  “Then forget about the towel. I need caffeine a whole lot more.”

  He gave a dry laugh. “It’s not as good as Jilly’s, but it’s guaranteed to wake you up.”

  Olivia peered around the shower curtain. Rafe was leaning against the wall, one hand in his pocket. His chest was bare, hazed with steam from her shower. Olivia was pretty sure that she lost use of half her brain cells when she saw the top two buttons of his jeans were unsnapped.

  Hot possibilities hammered through her head, as seductive as the warm, damp steam playing over her naked skin. They had just put the space of a night between them. Surely that was enough time for reflection and calm.

  There was no need to wait any longer.

  The old Olivia, the awkward girl who had always thought too much and acted too little, would have stayed safely behind the shower curtain.

  The new Olivia said the hell with that.

  In one smooth movement she took the towel from him, swept it over his shoulders and circled his neck, pulling him toward her and kissing him with slow, searching heat. Her tongue played over his and Olivia smiled when his breath caught in a low, murmured curse.

  His breath was ragged as he studied her face. “Livie, are you sure—”

  “Shut up and kiss me.”

  And he did. The calm focus of the night before was gone. His hands slid all over her, damp with her dampness, and his mouth was hard, just on the edge of rough.

  Olivia wouldn’t have had it any other way.

  She drove her nails along his back. She lifted her knee and wrapped it around his thighs, pulling him against her. Rafe’s eyes darkened. He picked her up, while she tightened her legs around him.

  Slowly he pinned her against the steamy bathroom wall.

  “Livie.” He ground out the word hoarsely. “You know where we’re headed. Any longer and we won’t be turning back.”

  He was giving her a choice. A part of Olivia’s dazed brain was moved by the thought. But the rest of her was irritated, frustrated by the delay. So she didn’t bother to answer. She simply drove her body against him, slick, needy skin against slick, needy skin.

  Olivia shuddered as she felt his jeans inch lower, pushed downward by the friction of their bodies. She heard the sound of her own breath, rough and fast as she raked her hand down his chest and then lower, into the gaping V at the waist of his jeans.

  Touching him was heaven. Taking him within the circle of her fingers was the stuff of all her hot fantasies. Except Olivia was grown-up now. She knew exactly what those fantasies meant—and what would come next. She wanted all that.

  “Livie, give me a minute.”

  She didn’t want to give him a minute. Not a second. She needed this right now.

  Then she realized she had said the words out loud. And to her shock, Olivia realized she didn’t care a bit. She was tired of pretense. The need that held her, wrapped around the two of them, was all that mattered.

  She felt him pull something from his pocket. His breath was harsh and labored. His jeans slid down and Olivia used her foot to shove them to the wet floor of the shower. She felt his body against her, chest to knees, chiseled with muscle. He was more beautiful than she could have imagined, and his need touched a lifetime of memories.

  She took a broken breath and drove her body against him. She felt the hot pressure at her thighs, heard Rafe mutter, and then felt him push inside her. The taste of him was on her mouth and she felt the hammer of his heart beneath her hand, still pressed against his damp chest.

  His arm locked around her waist. He slid the wet hair out of her face, his eyes very dark. “Look at me, honey. Look at me and know exactly what we’re doing. I’ve wanted this longer than I can remember, and we’re both going to have it now.”

  Olivia felt heat rip through her, swallowing reason and thought and planning. She wasn’t ready, though she had thought she would be after all her years of fantasies.

  She wasn’t ready at all. Not for the heat. Not for the hint of pain that quickly gave way to a hot blindness as he moved inside her, deep and slow.

  A wave of pleasure caught her, and she arched back in his arms, locking her hands on his shoulders. She felt his lips at her forehead as he whispered her name and the world tore away beneath her.

  * * *

  OLIVIA’S HEART HAMMERED. Her breath was hoarse. Her legs locked around Rafe’s waist as pleasure continued to spasm through her.

  Even then Rafe didn’t move.

  He was too busy being a damn gentleman, Olivia realized. Even when he was deep inside her, so close to his own passionate release, he waited.

  To hell with that, she thought.

  She lifted her leg and pushed against him, shivering to feel the passion begin again. She drank in the darkness of his eyes at the moment that his control gave way. Olivia wouldn’t give either of them time for more questions or obstacles. She gripped him with tight, intimate strokes and felt him lift her legs higher. “Livie, if I hurt you—”

  “You’re not. You’re everything, Rafe. Just—don’t stop.”

  He took a hitched breath. His hand opened on the wall, muscles clenched for control. Olivia felt him, smooth and hot and huge as he drove up, deep ins
ide her, while fantasy wrapped trembling fingers around hot reality and their bodies became one, the way she had always dreamed they would.

  When she looked at him, her heart seemed too fragile for all the emotions flooding over her. “Rafe,” she whispered in one broken, aching voice.

  His hand anchored her hips. “Right here, honey.” His hands were hard and sure as Olivia felt the pleasure rise to crest again. She was crazy with feeling him, crazy with waiting and all this was so completely unlike her that she should have been horrified.

  Instead she was fearless. The hot certainty that this was Rafe holding her, taking her inexorably, made the last fiber of reason snap. Pleasure gripped her, their bodies wet and agile in each other’s arms.

  “Don’t make me wait,” Olivia rasped.

  She felt the hammer of his heart. His mouth opened on her forehead. The dark, hungry words he said washed over her, and pleasure struck. Olivia rose in blind instinct, gripping his neck.

  Rafe caught her hips and held her. His hands shook as he drove deep, caught with a hunger that had been too long unfulfilled. He speared his fingers through her hair, whispering her name.

  Then he followed Olivia over the edge to his own shattering climax.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  STEAM SWIRLED THROUGH the quiet room.

  Olivia took a slow, ragged breath and watched beads of water trickle down the tile wall. Her heart pounded. Her knees were ready to cave in.

  She couldn’t move a muscle. Their bodies were still locked, still pressed in intimate grip, and Olivia decided she’d like to stay this way forever.

  Rafe’s fingers trailed slowly over her shoulder. She felt him lean down and plant a kiss in her hair. “Are you ready to move?” he murmured.

  “Give me a little time. A century or two should work.”

  His hand traced her cheek. “That’s faster than I can.” He caught her waist as she began to slide down the wall. “Is there something in the water here? Because that was—” Rafe laughed weakly. “That was like nothing I ever experienced. It’s either the water or it’s just you, Livie.”

  How was she supposed to answer that? And was this one of those moments when men rated their satisfaction? Olivia just didn’t have the energy for it. “Is that a complaint?”

  “Hell, no.”

  He slid their bodies together, letting the hot, wet friction stir in waves over Olivia’s sensitized skin. “I’m so glad to hear it,” she said weakly. Because her whole body seemed to be drained of energy, she hooked her arms around his head and let him hold her. The feeling of Rafe holding her was the best thing Olivia had ever felt.

  He caught her leg with one hard hand, holding her steady when her knees grew weak. Even then, he was still inside her. She could feel the hot movements that followed his release.

  His heart was still hammering. She felt it beneath her ear, and something about that made Olivia smile crookedly. So this was what sex with Rafe Russo, the Summer Island bad boy, was like.

  Olivia had spent most of her girlhood wondering. A good deal of her adult life, too. Now she knew. She also knew that the reality was more amazing than anything she had ever dreamed about.

  “I guess that’s a game plan. It wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, but I’m not complaining.”

  His lips moved to her hair, and Olivia heard his dry laugh. “It wasn’t exactly what I had in mind either. But then I saw you and all that hot steam and I forgot everything else. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Hell, no man with a beating heart could have walked away from you, Livie. You tear my breath away.”

  “You always knew the right thing to say. I can see that hasn’t changed.”

  “The way I feel about you hasn’t changed. It never will,” he said harshly. He ran a hand slowly along her leg and then anchored her waist. Carefully he brought her feet to the floor. When her knees gave way and she would have fallen, he held her upright.

  Rafe took a rough breath and cursed softly. “We have to go, Livie. If we don’t leave very soon, we’re not going to get to the boat early enough.”

  She nodded, aware that this was very important. But for the life of her, she couldn’t exactly remember why. The only important thing right now was the warmth of Rafe’s body. “Right. The boat.” She said the words slowly. If she worked hard, she might be able to remember the rest of it. “I’ll go get dressed. Meet you downstairs.”

  Suddenly they heard a tapping on the floor below and the muted sound of voices.

  Rafe’s eyes hardened and he slid Olivia behind him. He grabbed his jeans from the tile floor and jerked them on. “Stay here.”

  Olivia opened her mouth, but she didn’t argue. She realized that Rafe was in full threat mode. More muffled noises echoed from the stairway. Something scratched at Olivia’s bedroom door, and it swung open.

  Duffy, Jilly’s white Samoyed, stood sniffing the air, studying the two of them intently.

  “Livie, are you up yet? Walker and I are down here. We brought you breakfast. And coffee, too, I might add.”

  “Hell, how’d she get in?” Rafe’s body seemed to lose some of its tension. But he looked acutely uncomfortable.

  “She has a key. Don’t worry, I’ll go down first.” Olivia took a long, lingering glance at the beads of water still trickling down Rafe’s chest. Desire surged again, but she hammered it back ruthlessly. “You might want to button up your jeans and find a shirt,” she said dryly. “Although I doubt that this situation will surprise Jilly very much.”

  Rafe stabbed a hand through his hair. “Shirt. Jeans. Roger that.”

  Olivia heard the confusion in his voice. Clearly, he had been hit as hard as she had been. She liked that idea very much.

  She reached down for her clothes, folded on the edge of the bed and then called out to Duffy, “Did you come to see Aunt Livie? Are you ready for a run on the beach, big guy?”

  The white dog barked loudly and then danced around Olivia in excited circles. She felt guilty when she realized there would be no time for a run or even a walk. She and Rafe would have to leave immediately if they wanted to beat Martin up the coast.

  Without looking down, she shoved her blouse into her jeans and grabbed her shoes. “I’ll be right down, Jilly,” she called.

  She glanced back at Rafe.

  He was buttoning his jeans, but he seemed to sense her glance. Smiling slowly, he touched the tips of two fingers to his mouth. His dark eyes narrowed, running over her body.

  And then he tossed her a little kiss.

  Already head over heels, Olivia felt her heart drop even deeper into a dizzy, unsettling state that she was still not brave enough to call love.

  * * *

  “WALKER HAD to pick up more supplies at the hardware store and Duffy wanted a run on the beach, so I decided to come by and cook you breakfast. Where do you keep your—” Jilly turned around in the middle of her explanation, then stopped when she saw Olivia madly trying to tame the tangles from her hair. “Livie, what’s going on?”

  “Nothing. I’m fine. I’m perfect. Thank you for coming by to cook breakfast. The problem is, I have an appointment up the coast. We’ll be late if we don’t leave in five minutes.”

  Jilly frowned. “We?”

  “Rafe and I. He thinks he should come along. We’ll explain it all later,” she said quickly.

  Jilly walked across the room, shoved away Olivia’s hands and studied the buttons that were completely mismatched on her blouse. “You and Rafe. Now that’s interesting. Is he around here somewhere?”

  “He’s somewhere. Upstairs, I think. He came over early. He wanted to be sure that we weren’t late.”

  “He came over early.” Jilly cleared her throat. “Then get going. I have coffee in a thermos, and I made croissants this morning. Cream puffs, too. I’ll pack them up for you to take along.”

  Olivia studied her energetic friend. This was a new level of hyper, even for Jilly. “Why were you up cooking cream puffs and croissants? It’s barely seve
n-thirty now, Jilly.”

  Her friend shook her head mysteriously. “I guess that will have to wait.” Jilly smiled as Rafe appeared in the doorway.

  His jeans were buttoned, Olivia thought thankfully. And he was wearing a T-shirt.

  But his feet were bare. She made a strangled sound, aware that Jilly was missing none of these details.

  “Morning, Rafe. I brought you some croissants and hot coffee. Cream puffs, too. I couldn’t sleep, so I got up to bake.”

  “Sorry to hear that you couldn’t sleep, but those croissants are going to be great on our drive. Did Olivia tell you that we have to leave?” He glanced at the clock and muttered. “We have to leave five minutes ago, in fact.”

  After her friend walked outside, Olivia gathered up her cell phone and purse and locked the house in record time. When she crossed the front porch, she saw Jilly playing with Duffy on the lawn while Walker and Rafe stood on the driveway, talking.

  “Sorry to run, Jilly. Thanks for all the food.”

  “No problem. Have a nice drive with Rafe. Just remember, you two are coming over for dinner tonight. I’m trying out a test menu.” Jilly looked from one to the other, smiling faintly. “Don’t be late. No matter how...distracted you are.”

  * * *

  “WOULD YOU LOOK in on the house a couple of times today? Don’t bring Jilly.” Rafe’s voice was low. “But bring Duffy. Let him run around and sniff.”

  Walker nodded, but his face was grave. “You want to explain why?”

  “Not now. No time. We have to make this appointment. It’s important, or I wouldn’t ask.” Rafe looked up at the porch, where Olivia and Jilly were talking. “Something’s wrong here. I think it has to do with her father. Until I know, I’m taking no chances with her safety. Someone was in her house. The power was cut.”

  Walker’s eyes darkened. “Understood. I’ll swing by. I’ll bring Duffy. Winslow, too. That dog doesn’t miss anything.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  OLIVIA COULDN’T KNIT. Too many possibilities and worries filled her head. She tried to calm her mind as Rafe drove through the quiet, twisting streets and then up the wooded coast. When she pulled out her current project, a lace shawl made of hand-dyed alpaca, the soft folds felt reassuring. “I suppose this could all get weird. I mean, people in town are watching us. They’re...talking.”