Picture Perfect (Butler Island) (11 page)

Suspended in the air, she anchored
her legs around his waist as he pivoted. His body collapsed onto the cushions,
evoking a surprised gasp from Olivia, followed by a soft giggle as she landed
in his lap.

Grant tore his mouth away from her
lips, exploring the soft fragrant skin along her throat. She whipped her head
back, giving him better access; encouraging him to continue. She could feel his
fingertips brush against her chest as he slowly unbuttoned her blouse. She
couldn’t piece together a coherent thought. Her brain was temporarily out of
order; her focus solely on the sensation of his open-mouth kisses along her
throat.

Once her blouse was open he leaned
his head back against the sofa and gawked at her body through hooded eyes.
“God, Livvy, you’re so beautiful”, he groaned as his thumb brushed against the
cup of her black lace bra.

Something about the way he looked at
her—like he wanted nothing more in life than to feast on her body—turned her
on. And when his thumb grazed the delicate lace of her bra, sweeping across her
sensitive nipple, she arched her body toward his touch. Her head fell back
again, followed by a gasp, and then an,
“Oh my God”
, when he tugged on
the lace and covered one of her nipples with his mouth.

Damn, she was so fucking hot! He’d
never seen a woman so responsive. And that’s when he began to wonder: if she
was this responsive and turned on with practically all of her clothes on, how
would she be lying beneath him while he was buried inside her…?

Taking her nipple into his mouth, he
sucked and then gently raked his teeth against the hard pebble as he withdrew.

Another loud gasp.

And then…

Her hips rocked gently, grinding her
sex against the hot length of his rigid cock. Suddenly he felt like a teenager
again, getting-off on the slightest touch. But he wasn’t sixteen—he was
thirty-three. Old enough to hold back, although the woman currently straddling
his lap had tested his self-control on more than one occasion.

Flicking his tongue against her, he
watched as her chest moved with every quick, shallow breath.
And when his mouth eased away from her nipple
again, he pursed his lips together and blew softly.

A soft needy moan escaped her lips as
she ran her fingers through his light-brown hair.

“You like that?” he asked in a rough,
gravelly tone.

“Yeah”, she whispered.

She was drowning
in a pool of lust. Desire
slam
ming into her for the first time in over
a year;
rushing over her like a raging current, carrying her to a destination
full of promised pleasure.

Placing one of his hands on her
delectable backside, he wrapped his free arm around her back and in one swift
motion, turned her.

Suddenly she was lying on her back,
looking up as Grant reached over his shoulder and grabbed a fistful of his
shirt. Pulling the material over his head, the weight of his bare-chested body
enveloped her. His mouth came over hers with urgency, their tongues dancing to
the seductive melody consisting of thudding heartbeats and heavy breaths.

After swallowing her soft, sensual
whimpers, his lips migrated to her neck. Her fingernails combed over his back
as he began slowly grinding his hips against her center, imitating what he so
desperately wanted.

“Oh, god…
Grant
...”

She was breathless, repeatedly
chanting his name just above a whisper. So far gone she could hardly bear it.

Hearing his name
on her lips was a potent
aphrodisiac. He ground the snug fly of his denim jeans against her slower.
Harder. Stifling a sound from her lips that indicated she was lost in her
pleasure. Tugging on the lace of her bra, he revealed her firm pink nipple
again. He nibbled, sucked, and licked until her hips bucked against him.

She was close—near the point of no
return.

Panting.

Whimpering his name.

Her body begging for release.

Suddenly his ears were ringing.

Fingernails dug into his back.

Ears ringing. Hearts racing.

More ringing…

Grant froze as soon as he realized
the ringing was coming from his on-call phone. Burying his face in the crook of
her neck, he groaned. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me…”

Their bodies remained still except
for the movement caused by the rapid rise and fall of their chests as they
attempted to catch their breath. The phone rang again and as he lifted his body
away from her, they locked eyes. “Stay right there—don’t move. I’ll be right
back.”

Olivia watched as he walked away and
suddenly felt a pang of regret.

How had this happened?

Panic erupted from her core,
engulfing her. She hadn’t meant for things to get this far.

Run!

She had to get away. Rising from the
couch, she quickly tiptoed to the entry and grabbed her purse. She could still
hear his voice in the kitchen.

Hurry!

Without a backward glance, she opened
the front door and stepped out into the wet, turbulent night. She held her
blouse closed with one of her hands while she descended down the wood steps,
refusing to take an extra minute away from her desperate escape in order to
button it.

“Eye witnesses indicate there is
smoke and flames visible on the south and west sides of the wood structure”,
the dispatcher declared.

Grant released a heavy sigh. He was
hoping the call wasn’t a serious one; a call that didn’t require his attention.
He’d gladly refuse the overtime for an opportunity to finish what he’d started
with Olivia. But sadly, that just wasn’t going to happen right now.

“Fire engine is already en route.”

“Alright, I’m on my way”, he
affirmed.

After placing the on-call phone on
the counter, he started toward the living room. “You’re not going to believe
this, but—”

The couch was empty.

“Livvy…?
Olivia
…?” he called
out.

Silence.

Grant grabbed his shirt off the floor
and quickly put it back on as he headed for the front door.
He snatched his keys from the entry table and
opened the door to find Olivia backing out of the driveway in a hurry.

Damn it, Womack! You scared her off!

He would’ve liked nothing more than
to chase after her. Apologize for…

For what, exactly?

They were both consenting adults.
There was no mistaking the raw desire he saw in her eyes. She wanted him just
as much as he wanted her, but he was beginning to realize that she wasn’t the
type of girl accustomed to “wanting.”

Racing down the steps, he leapt into
his truck. He needed to concentrate on putting out a fire and ignore the
internal blaze currently engulfing him.

Grant removed his gear and placed it
inside the fire engine before walking back to his truck. The fire had
completely engulfed Mr. Steiner’s old ‘63 Ford Pickup and would have consumed
the entire detached garage it was stored in if not for the heavy November rain.

He inserted his key and started the
ignition. It was after midnight and he wondered if Olivia was still awake. He
couldn’t get her out of his mind. Could still see her wriggle beneath him with
pleasure. Could still hear the sound of her panting his name. She’d been so
close—another ten seconds and he would have made her come…

It was obvious that he and Olivia
were attracted to one another. And even more obvious that she was battling
their overwhelming chemistry. She’d fled his home as though her survival
depended on it.

But why?

Suddenly, he remembered the
conversation he’d had with Randall the night of Ty’s Halloween party.

“How well do you know her?”

“Olivia?” Randall asked. “We grew up
together. She was a year younger than me, but she was still one of my closest
friends. Would’ve given anything to be more than friends, though.”

“Had a secret crush, did ya?”

 “Me and half the town’s teenage male
population! But she didn’t really date much back then…”

“Why not?”

 “Partly because she was too busy
causing a ruckus to be tied down in a relationship. And partly because every
guy on the island knew her free-spirit couldn’t be tamed…”

Grant came upon his street and
instead of turning left to go home, he made a right. He wanted to see Olivia; 
talk to her;
 
finish what they’d started earlier on his couch.

His truck rolled to a stop in front
of her house. All lights were out. “Damn it”, he mumbled under his breath.

Well, apparently their unfinished
business was going to have to be postponed. He just prayed that when daylight
fell, the sun’s brilliant rays wouldn’t emphasize her regret.

CHAPTER 8

After the timer sounded, Olivia
removed the exposed film from the tabletop enlargement machine and submerged it
into the developer liquid. It’d been a long time since she’d used this machine.
In the last decade, digital cameras had taken over the industry.
Photographers loved the instant gratification of
knowing whether or not they’d captured the perfect shot—hell, she was one of
them! But there was just something about enlarging your own black-and-white
prints. It was sentimental. Gratifying.

When the timer sounded again, she
lifted the film from the developer liquid and sloshed it around in the stop
bath before finally submerging it in the large tub filled with fixer solution.

Time spent alone in the darkroom had
always been therapeutic. Her demons rarely haunted her there…

No such luck today.

She was still reeling from her dinner
the other night with Grant. So talented was his lips, his tongue, his hands.
She’d replayed their time together on his couch over and over again. She’d let
her guard down and had given in to his pleasurable touch…

Big mistake.

Because now she knew how amazing he
could make her feel and her body ached, longing to experience it again.

You don’t do casual sex.

Right. Exactly. Because if her last
date taught her anything, it was that men looked at women like a means to an
end. An opportunity to fill a physiological need and once that need had been
filled, you were no longer any use to them.

But Grant isn’t like other guys—he’s
different.

And ironically,
that
was part
of the problem. He hadn’t pressured her—she’d been a willing participant. She’d
allowed herself to indulge in the sensation of his kisses, his touch. There was
no telling how far it would‘ve gone if they hadn’t been interrupted. He’d left
her lying on the couch to answer his on-call phone and what did she do? Panicked
and fled.

She’d put herself in a vulnerable
position and she hated feeling like that. Instead of facing him, she’d chosen
to sneak away. And as if that weren’t bad enough, she’d purposely dodged his
multiple attempts to get in touch with her.

Heavens to Betsy—she needed to stop
dwelling on the mistakes she’d made the other night and
instead, focus on the future. She couldn’t exactly
avoid
Grant forever; it was a small island. Hiding out
in
her
darkroom for the next month or
two wasn’t a viable
op
tion.
Eventually their paths would cross and she
really needed to be ready for when that moment
occurred.

Working in solitude underneath the
subtle red
glow of the safe light had always
eased her weary
mind. In fact, it was just about the only place she felt
completely safe—the outside world failed to penetrate the concrete walls. But
somehow Grant had managed to do just that.

She’d just finished hanging her last
enlarged
print to dry when she heard a faint
knock. “Who is it?”

“It’s me, Grant. Can I come in?”

Oh god, now what?

This was the last thing she needed:
time alone with Grant in a small, dimly lit room…

It was partly
her fault though. He’d made
countless attempts to get in touch with her over
the last several days and she’d ignored every single one of them.  She was
scared—
terrified—
of him.

Well, not of him
—
just how he
made her feel. She was afraid she was beginning to like him just a little too
much. And that
really
frightened her.