“What’s wrong?” she asked breathlessly. “Don’t you want me?”
Grant eyed the angelic figure before him. Was she serious? Did she not see the hard bulge pressing against the fly of his navy cargos? “God, yes—”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“I don’t want to hurt you and this”—he said as he gestured to her naked body— “is not why I wanted you to stay with me tonight.”
“So why did you want me to stay?”
“I needed to know you were safe. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you again and… I really missed you…”
Olivia pinned him with her emerald gaze. Yes, it made her feel vulnerable, but she refused to dwell on it. Swallowing hard, she spoke the words envisioned in her mind. “I want to feel you, Grant—I need to feel you.”
Reaching for his hand, she placed it on her breast and sighed as his thumb caressed her pebbled nipple. “Save me”, she uttered, just above a whisper. “Make me forget everything except how good you make me feel… Please…”
She was literally begging him to touch her. He’d tried to do the noble thing by ending their kiss—
But she was begging him…
His determination fractured; he gave in.
His lips skimmed the delicate skin on her neck while his hands fondled her round breasts. She arched her back as he trailed kisses along her throat, down her chest. Her silk-like skin was perfumed with vanilla from her recent shower and like eating an ice cream cone, he licked the curve of her breast, savoring the flavor of her sweet damp skin on his tongue.
Continuing down her lovely figure, he came upon her broken rib. It was still bruised from her attack, her skin stained with a terrifying memory. Gently, he brushed his fingertips over the discoloration and then pressed a soft kiss against her battle wound; wishing his touch could mend her broken body and the emotional scars that would linger long after she healed.
His tenderness caused goosebumps to spread across her skin.
“You cold?” he uttered against her belly.
“No. Not anymore…” Her frozen body began to thaw the moment he’d put his mouth on her skin, melting her worries, her pain, and her fears like an ice sculpture in the sweltering dessert sun.
God, how he wanted to fill her with ecstasy; wanted to feel her moist heat clamp down on him. But he’d not only promised Ty he’d be on his best behavior, he’d also vowed to himself. He’d broken that pledge the moment he’d tasted her fragrant skin. He wanted to feast on her—pleasure her in the most intimate way—and he convinced himself once she’d experienced it, he’d stop.
“Lie back”, he demanded in a soft, gravelly tone. Once she’d complied, he tugged on the back of her legs until her firm bottom teetered on the edge of the bed. Still kneeling in front of her, his shoulders pressed her knees apart, giving him a heavenly view. “God, look at you”, he croaked.
He trailed kisses down the inside of her thigh, slowly inching toward her divine center. “I’ve wanted to do this since that first day on the beach”, he mumbled against her leg. Unable to resist any longer, he put his mouth on her, savoring her sweet essence.
Her hips bucked the moment his mouth came down on her and in an effort to keep her still, he braced his forearm against them to keep her in place. “Mmmm…You taste so good, Livvy.”
She’d never felt anything so erotic, so momentous. So. Damn. Good.
Her body was ablaze, heat accelerating over her—through her—like a fire storm. He devoured her until rationale was gone. Her body was possessed by a hidden sensual being, a distant part of herself that’d been buried deep within her. This man uncovered the hidden treasure… Grant.
“Grant!” She cried.
He couldn’t get enough of her—never wanted to stop. He wanted more—needed more! Removing his arm from her hips, he slid his fingers underneath her firm bottom and lifted her closer.
She was panting his name, writhing in mindless pleasure, desperately balancing on the edge of climax.
“Come for me”, he commanded hoarsely. Suddenly, he felt her fingers grip his hair; watched as her body twisted. He heard the sexiest carnal cry escape her and feasted on her pleasure as though it was his last meal.
Gently placing her bottom back onto the bed, he stood, bracing his hands on either side of her. He hovered for close to minute, simply watching—relishing.
When her breathing began to return to normal, she opened her eyes, allowing him a glimpse into her fragile soul. She wanted him—all of him—everything he was willing to give. And tonight—for one night—she would give him everything she had in return.
Her eyes never swaying from his gaze, she reached down and caressed him. The barrier of his cargo’s hindering her effort, she dislodged the button and lowered the zipper.
“What’re you doing?” he asked hoarsely.
Olivia tore one of her hands away and brought her finger to her lips. “Shhh.” She returned her attention back to freeing his bulging length from confinement.
“This is probably not a good idea”, he said as he braced himself above her.
“Why, Grant?” she whispered.
It was so hard to talk with her hands on him, so hard to think. “Because I—God, Livvy”, he groaned as she gripped him, stroking him slowly, firmly.
“Please, Grant—I need this, too.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
Staring into his blue bedroom eyes, she raked her teeth against her bottom lip. He loved it when she did that. She knew she wasn’t playing fair. He was worried about her injuries; she needed to convince him otherwise. “The only way you’re gonna hurt me is if you say no.”
Every ounce of will he’d had left had been shattered. Who was he fooling? He couldn’t resist this woman—not when she was completely naked beneath him—not when she gnawed on her bottom lip and looked at him with those angelic green eyes—and certainly not when she was begging for him to fill her with his love.
“Scoot back toward the headboard”, he ordered softly before he had second thoughts.
Olivia followed his directions, resting her head on one of his feathery pillows. She observed as he stripped his clothing, his sinewy body causing her pulse to flutter. He ambled toward the nightstand, reaching for protection. And when his rigid sex was sheathed, he climbed into bed next to her.
“How should we do this?” she asked curiously.
“Turn away from me, on your side.”
Olivia rolled onto her uninjured side and shivered when his sex pressed against her bottom.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked as he spread soft kisses along the back of her shoulder.
“Yes, please.”
Grant lifted her top leg and then slowly plunged into her slick tight heat.
“God, Livvy, I… I—”
I love you. More than anything, he wanted to confess. Wanted her to know how amazing she made him feel; wanted to hear her say those three words back. But that would probably be the dumbest move he’d ever make. He couldn’t just blurt it out—that would have her retreating quicker than a striking viper snake.
Biting his lip, he relished her warm flesh; savored her sensual sounds. Thrusting into her body was like coming home.
And there was no place like it…
He stood on the deck, peeking around the edge of the sliding glass door. He ought to be out somewhere, scoping out his next target, but he couldn’t peel his eyes away. Olivia fascinated him—always had.
She had more courage, more strength in her dainty lil’ pinky finger than most guys did at the department. He really admired that about her.
Before the attack, he thought she was beautiful.
After the attack…?
Well, let’s just say his fascination grew.
Silently, he cursed himself. He couldn’t forget that she was a potential threat to his “part-time gig.” After he’d left her house that night, he’d ransacked the place looking for equipment, pictures,
film; anything that she’d need to begin photographing again.
He’d found an expensive camera, two lenses, and several pictures she’d printed of him in the act. Worried that Womack would return, he’d rushed out of there quickly.
Everything had been great—until she arrived this morning at the fire station with a small, ancient looking 35mm camera! He’d tried to warn her: told her she needed to pose instead of photographing. Apparently she’d disregarded his warning.
He needed to keep his eye on her; ensure she didn’t regain the courage to come looking for him again. That should be easy; eyeing her was certainly no hardship.
But this time, he needed a new approach. He didn’t want to hurt her again. Sitting at the hospital after her attack, he was disgusted with himself. He’d never hit a woman before; that was pretty low—even for him! He’d only meant to scare her; had hoped that his presence would’ve petrified her with fear.
Fear can cause a person to do unimaginable things—he of all people should know. He still owed his bookie two grand. How he’d managed to dig himself into a hole this deep, he’d never know. But he was damn well going to dig himself out of it. Three—maybe a half dozen more fires—was all he’d need in order to pay off his debt.
And then he’d be free.
But in the mean time, he’d continue looking over his shoulder; continue setting fires.
Continue his fascination with Olivia Everitt…
CHAPTER 19
She was running, desperately trying to escape. But he was too quick.
“Where do you think you’re going, Blondie?” He asked.
He was dragging her by her hair; tears leaked from her eyes. Every time she screamed, he only tugged harder.
He shoved her.
A crushing pain blasted her side and sucked the air from her lungs like a vacuum.
Glass was everywhere. Shattered fragments pressed into her knees and the palms of her hands, slicing into her.
Blood. Pain.
Suddenly she was lying on the couch. He was sitting on her stomach, his weight holding her down. She had to fight back. She was so terrified—but she had to fight back! She kicked her legs; flailed her arms.
Victory! Her fist collided against his temple.
Oh no! He’s angry!
He pinned her arms above her head. An electrifying sting erupted against her cheek. Tears fled her eyes again.
“Now that I have your undivided attention, tell me where your camera is.”
“Fuck you!” she yelled.
Another blow. Warm liquid exploded from her mouth. She tasted blood on her tongue.
“Maybe some other time”, he whispered.
His free hand copped a feel of one of her breasts. She squirmed. Convulsed.
She had to get away from this monster!
Grant awoke to the sound of Olivia screaming. She was having a nightmare.
Her arms were flailing and her body was writhing as though she were in pain. The terror on her face pulverized his heart. He gently pressed on her shoulders, trying to calm her. “Livvy, it’s okay. It’s just me… Grant.”
He wanted to comfort her, assure her that she was safe. But she was fighting him. One of her flailing arms connected with his chin.
Olivia opened her eyes. It took her a few moments before she realized what’d happened. The room was dark, but a dim beam of moonlight that’d filtered through the sliding glass door illuminated his face enough for her to see.
Grant.
“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s okay, baby. You’re safe. It was just a bad dream…”
Olivia reached up and ran her fingertips over the course stubble along his chin. “I hurt you”, she uttered softly.
“I’m fine—it’s you I’m worried about… Do you wanna talk about it?” Olivia shook her head. Cupping her face, he whispered, “What can I do?”
“Just hold me…” Turning away from him, she nestled her back against the solid wall of his chest.
His heart ached for her. What he wouldn’t give to erase the horrid memories of that night. What he wouldn’t give to slay the demons that haunted her dreams. Olivia was selfless, compassionate, and courageous.
A fighter.
She would get past this with time; he truly believed that. But that didn’t make witnessing her nightmares any easier. She didn’t deserve this—no woman did—and he wished like hell he had the words to sooth her weary mind; the power to erase the horrid memories from that night.
Running his fingers through her hair, he glanced at his alarm clock: half past three. Her breathing had slowed, regaining a steady rhythm. He continued petting her, coaxing her into a deep, peaceful sleep. The love he felt for the woman in his arms threatening to burst.
“You still awake?” he whispered softly. He waited a few moments and when she didn’t answer, the three words he’d never spoken to anyone before rolled off his tongue like an endearing caress. “I love you…”
She’d been lying in his arms, his magical hands caressing her hair, blanketing her body in safety. She felt valuable. Precious. Special. As the images of her nightmare slowly began to fade, her body relaxed. She cherished the moment; memorized it. The next time fear paralyzed her, she’d recall this moment.
“You still awake?”
Barely. So close—so exhausted—she didn’t think she’d even have the strength to answer. She didn’t want to speak; she was safe. Nothing could penetrate this haven—
“I love you”, he whispered.
Her body remained still, but her mind was racing. This wasn’t supposed to happen! Their relationship was supposed to remain casual. Fun. Emotionless. He didn’t mean it—he couldn’t mean it!
He was just confused.
Yeah.
He felt guilty about what’d happened to her and he was confusing his guilt with love… Oh, God, but what if he wasn’t?
Olivia remained in his arms, her mind too alert to return to sleep. She stared at the alarm clock, the red illuminated numbers indicating it was nearing five o’clock. Things were getting too serious and she needed to do something about it.
Carefully, she pried herself from Grant’s arms and rolled away from him. She needed distance; couldn’t bear waking in a few hours with his loving eyes staring into hers.
Quietly, she changed her clothes and tiptoed out of his bedroom. She’d left her toiletries in the bathroom, but she’d worry about that later. Right now, she needed to get as far from him as she could.
Sensing her troubles, Dexter followed her to the front door. “Sorry, boy”, she whispered as she knelt down to scratch behind his ears, “Don’t take it personal. I’ve got to get goin’. Be a good boy and go lie down.” She stood as Dexter trotted back to his favorite spot on the overstuffed loveseat, his chocolate coat suddenly camouflaged against the brown fabric.
Olivia opened the front door and then glanced over her shoulder one last time. Just a few short hours ago, this had been her safe haven. She was going to miss this place; miss Dexter’s greetings, dinners on the deck overlooking the calm Gulf water, lying next to Grant in his bed…
Grant.
Quietly, she closed the door behind her and began the five block trek back home. The sooner she arrived, the sooner she could fall to pieces.
The house was eerily quiet as she dead-bolted the door behind her. For the first time since her attack, she was alone… Images of that frightening night flashed through her mind as her eyes traversed the dark living room. Suppressing the gruesome memories, she willed herself to step forward.
Reaching the familiarity of her childhood bedroom, she knelt down and reached for the black, leather-wrapped scrapbook hidden beneath her antique canopy bed: her “personal portfolio.” The corners were beginning to wear, but somehow she couldn’t find the strength within herself to replace it.
Opening the portfolio, she smiled at the image staring back at her: her parents. It was the last family portrait taken before their death.
Ty was eighteen; she was eight. Her parents looked so happy—little did they all know that less than six months later, everything would forever change.
Turning the page, Olivia skimmed over the newspaper clipping recounting her parents’ fatal car accident. They’d gone to dinner in Downtown Atlanta. She remembered it was unusually cold that mid-April evening and the remnants of two days worth of rain blanketed the roads with a slick layer of moisture.
Her father had decided to take the winding back roads instead of the four-lane highway… and so did the drunk driver that hit them. It was a head-on collision. She learned later that her parents had died instantly: one minute they were here, enjoying life, and the next…
Olivia thumbed through the book, each page another significant moment in her life. There were pictures of major milestones like her thirteenth birthday party; photographs of gratifying achievements like her college graduation; mementos from some of her darkest times…
The newspaper clipping from eighteen months ago represented one of those dark times…
One of her photographer friends had set her up on a blind date with a local, well-known dentist. She’d just arrived back into town after traveling to Missouri to photograph the rising flood water. She’d been exhausted—wanted to cancel—but had ultimately decided against it.
His name was Todd Zimmerman.
On the outside he was a very attractive man: tall, dark hair, charcoal eyes, and a perfect smile. She never suspected his good looks disguised a sly sexual predator.
She’d finished her third glass of wine and had excused herself from the table, hoping a wet paper towel on her face and neck would cool her heated skin. She’d just placed the cold compress to her neck when she’d caught a glimpse of Todd standing behind her in the mirror.
He’d covered her mouth, silencing her scream. And then, his free hand began roaming over her body. He’d lifted her skirt, his fingers curling underneath the waistband of her panties, when the door suddenly swung open…
Picture Perfect (Butler Island) Page 16
