“Wipe that smirk off your face, Randall Wade Burns, because I’m about to get ‘OCD’ on that little gash of yours”, she lectured, clutching the various first aid items she’d snatched from aisle three moments ago against her chest. “Take your shirt off and have a seat.”
Stepping into her modest-sized office, Randall gathered the hem of his white T-shirt and carefully drew it over his shoulder, wincing when he raised his left arm above his head. He then balled the cotton tee in his fists and took a seat.
“How on earth did this happen?” Inquired Kendall as she tore into the package of sterile gauze.
“Tree trimming.” He still couldn’t believe this’d happened. He’d been so careful balancing on a sturdy branch, slicing into a smaller limb positioned just above his head. The chainsaw ripped into the wood like a hot knife carving into butter. Easy. Effortlessly.
But mere moments before the saw severed the branch, the weight of the leaves at the other end caused the wood to snap prematurely. The segment he’d been cutting suddenly jerked upward, then swung down toward him with calculated vengeance. There was no time to react—no time to dodge the solid branch as it barreled toward him, slicing into his shoulder before finally falling to the ground. Thankfully he’d had enough sense to anchor his body to the trunk. A twenty-five foot fall would’ve undoubtedly caused a bigger injury than this.
“Tree trimming?” She asked incredulously. “Well, obviously the tree got its revenge.”
Randall chuckled. “Yeah, I guess you could say th—son of a bitch!” He bellowed as sharp, fiery jolts of electricity surged down his arm toward his fingertips. Glancing over his shoulder, he eyed the bottle of Bactine Kendall held in her hand. “Thought that shit had Lidocaine in it?”
“It does.”
Tilting his head back for a moment, he clenched his eyes shut and drew in a deep breath. “Damn, that hurt.”
“I’m sorry. I just figured it’d be better if I just did it without warning you first.” Leaning forward, Kendall pursed her lips and gently blew on the gaping wound. “Better yet?”
There was a time, not so long ago, when the sensation of her breath on his skin would have sent him into a reckless tailspin. He’d lusted after Kendall Porter for nearly two years, for heaven’s sake! She’d been one of his best friends and had held the starring role in his fantasies every one of those seven-hundred-thirty nights.
Until roughly three and a half months ago.
Because a new woman had been cast in that role. A woman with midnight eyes, long brown hair, and vanilla-scented skin; a heavenly woman with an uncanny ability of ensnaring his highly-regarded self-control, transforming him into a living, breathing sex fiend.
A woman utterly clueless about the effect she had on him.
“Yeah, the Lidocaine must be kickin’ in, now.” Randall closed his eyes while Kendall gently wiped away the dried blood that’d settled around the wound.
“So whose tree should I send the bill to?” She teased as she tossed a red-stained gob of gauze into the nearby bio-hazard bin.
“Lana’s.”
“Oh…”
Head still leaning against the back of the chair, Randall opened one of his eyes at Kendall. “Okay, spill it. What’s on your mind?”
“Nothing”, she quickly countered. But she should’ve known better. Because suddenly she was the recipient of The Look: Randall’s bullshit detector. A three inch gash in his shoulder and the man could still make her practically sing what was on her mind.
“Okay, so maybe it isn’t nothing… I heard about what happened yesterday at the fire station between you and Tommy.”
“Your husband has a big mouth.”
“So you’re saying you didn’t almost get into a fight with one of your good friends yesterday?”
“I don’t want to talk about it, Babe.”
Kendall opened the steri-strips and carefully placed them perpendicularly across the deep laceration, and when that was done, she covered the wound with a mound of four-inch gauze pads.
“Does Lana know?” He asked softly, finally breaking the awkward silence.
“Yeah.”
Great. Fucking great.
He’d sort of hoped his outburst would’ve remained unnewsworthy. But this was Butler Island, after all; gossip in this town was as steady and reliable as the changing tides.
“What’s going on with you, Rand? You used to tell me everything. But now…”
“Just…stuff, Babe. Stuff I can’t get into right now.” His answer seemed to satisfy her. For now. Because he knew she sensed something was going on with him—hell, aside from Jimmy, she was the one person that probably knew him best. And right now, she knew he was hiding something. “You done?”
Kendall added one last piece of tape to hold the gauze in place. “I am now.”
Standing, Randall turned toward her, kissing her forehead. “Thanks for your help, Babe.”
“Anytime”, she whispered, gently wrapping her arms around his neck. “I worry about you, you know.”
“Don’t. I’m okay. Really okay.”
And it was the truth. Because at that moment Randall suddenly realized he wasn’t in love with Kendall Porter. That realization should’ve been welcoming news.
Trouble was he’d fallen for Lana. Hard. Fast.
And he was in way too deep to simply walk away, now.
This is all my fault”, said Lana as she stared at the gaping wound on Randall’s upper arm, located just below the bony protuberance of his left shoulder. “I never should’ve agreed to let you climb up there today.”
“That tree needed to be trimmed back after what happened last night, remember?”
“Yes, but I could’ve hired someone—a professional.”
Randall took a seat on the wooden stool in front of the small vanity and glanced at her reflection in the mirror. “And you would’ve easily spent a couple grand, too.”
“I don’t care about the money, Randall. You could’ve…”
Died. She didn’t say it aloud, but then again she didn’t need to; it was written all over her pretty face. It hadn’t occurred to him, until now, that his brush with danger earlier this afternoon could’ve spelled death. If that branch had sliced into his Jugular, it would’ve demolished Lana. Just thinking about how she would’ve reacted to the news made his chest ache.
“So what am I supposed to do?” She asked after carefully removing the saturated gauze he’d arrived with.
Snatching the bottle of Bactine off the counter, he handed it to her. “Pour this over the wound, then pat it dry with some gauze.” Randall clenched his teeth, bracing his body for the fiery jolt that would soon race down his arm, igniting his nerves in an incandescent blaze until the numbing agent, Lidocaine, took effect. He groaned softly as the cool liquid collided against the three-inch groove.
“Omigod—I’m sorry!”
“It’s fine”, he managed feebly. “Just stings like hell at first.”
Reaching for the pile of gauze on the vanity, Lana began gently patting the wound dry. “How did you manage to bandage this yourself?”
“I didn’t—Kendall helped.”
Lana stilled for a few long beats, catching Randall’s gaze in the mirror, then quickly grabbed the tape off the counter, securing the dry gauze pads to his bare clean skin.
Randall carefully observed her reflection. She was desperately attempting to appear as though his running to Kendall didn’t bother her. But clearly it did.
“I know what you’re thinking.”
“Really?—Then you probably get how upset I am that you didn’t go to the hosp—
“That isn’t it. And you know it.” Randall sighed, suddenly feeling guilty—like he needed to clarify how he’d ended up shirtless in Kendall’s office today. “Look, I didn’t purposely seek out Kendall today. I was—”
“You don’t owe me any explanations, Randall “, she uttered softly as she concentrated on her nails, feverishly chipping away at her violet pol
ish.
“Look at me.” He waited until her head lifted, her eyes targeting his in the mirror’s reflection. “I don’t have feelings for Kendall anymore. Not like that. Not like I used to.”
“That’s… that’s not what I was—”
Randall turned his body one-hundred-eighty degrees on the small wooden stool so that Lana now stood between his legs. He gently tugged on her waist, drawing her closer, then looked up into her pretty face. “Yeah, you were…”
One of his thumbs trailed across the hem of her thin tank top until he managed to slip underneath the green ribbed cotton. The moment his callused thumb caressed the soft skin of her stomach, she inhaled a quick breath as though the mere sensation of his gentle touch was beyond pleasurable.
Like she’d been aching for it all day.
Gathering the hem in his fists, he drew the material up further, revealing the jeweled navel ring he loved so much. He watched as her chest expanded, then retracted, rapidly, over and over, feverishly anticipating his next move. “You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?”
“Me?—beautiful?”
“Yeah. You.” Unable to curb the overwhelming need mounting inside him, he bent his head forward, kissing her belly, slowly migrating upward until he reached the bottom curve of one of her breasts. Her hands were in his hair, gripping, holding him steady.
Like there was somewhere else he’d rather be, right now.
Nipping her pink nipple, he raked his teeth gently over the hard nub, drawing out the breathy moan that’d haunted him for nearly forty-eight hours, then sucked the delicacy in his mouth again. “Feel good, Sweetheart?—huh?” he graveled softly. “Does it make you wet? Does it make you want to sit on my cock, right now?”
“Y-yes.”
With a low carnal groan Randall possessively palmed her sweet ass lifting her feet off the ground, settling Lana onto his lap so that her legs straddled his powerful thighs.
Careful not to bump his injured shoulder, Lana clung to him, likely both surprised and turned on by his sudden loss of control. Nose to nose, they paused for a moment, looking into one another’s eyes, breathing the same air. And when the pull became too strong, their mouths met in an all-consuming kiss.
Lana palmed the sides of his unshaven face, tilting her head a bit to deepen the kiss while her hips slowly rocked, grinding her sex against his hard rod in an attempt to ease the pleasurable ache.
The sensual glide of her hips beneath his hands threatened his sound mind, which was pretty ironic considering his thoughts tended to be rather flawed and dirty where Lana was concerned. Tearing his mouth away from her lips he trailed hot, moist kisses over her chin, down the hollow of her throat, stopping occasionally to nip her vanilla-scented flesh with his teeth.
The tempo of her hips slowed as she added more pressure, rubbing her sex over him good and hard. “Christ, Lana”, he growled against her neck.
Reaching down between them, he pulled her knit boxers and panties to the side with his fingers, then ran the pad of his callused thumb over her slippery, wet clit. The sweet sound of her soft whimpers urged him on as he rubbed the ache away in gentle, lazy circles.
His shoulder screamed with pain, but that didn’t matter. Not now. Not when she was panting, whimpering. Not when her sweet honey coated his fingers. Not when he was so close to watching her come apart in his arms again. “Tell me what you want, Sweetheart. I want to hear you say it.”
“I… please, I… Don’t stop”, she breathed.
“Tell me more”, he growled, low and rough, increasing his pace.
A soft carnal whimper fled her parted lips a moment before she uttered, “Make me come. Please…”
With his thumb still gliding over her sensitive nub he rotated his right hand a bit, allowing his fingers to delve between her slippery folds. Almost immediately he could feel her hot flesh drawing tighter around his fingers in preparation.
Then something unexpected happened. There was a steady pounding on the door, followed by, “Mommy?”
In an instant Lana’s eyes flew open in panic, her feet landing on the tile floor in the blink of an eye. “Connor, you’re supposed to be sleeping!” she uttered through the door, her voice trembling with both arousal and fear.
“I need a drink of water.”
Lana quickly straightened her clothes, then carefully opened the door just enough to squeeze her body through. “C’mon, you can have a few sips, and then it’s back to bed, okay?”
“ ’kay.”
Lana removed the Brita pitcher from the fridge, pouring just enough water into his favorite Spiderman cup to quench his thirst, and then handed it to her son. “Better?”
Connor nodded, then handed his mom the empty cup.
“C’mon, I’ll tuck you back in.” Retracing their steps back into the hallway, she followed behind her little boy, eyeing the bathroom as she continued to Connor’s room. Her face flushed red at the memory of what’d taken place minutes ago behind that wood-paneled door.
Lana couldn’t believe how quickly she’d lost control. She’d basically dry-humped Randall in her guest bathroom, then begged him to make her come after he’d pulled her panties to the side. What was it about Randall Burns that drove her normally-sane mind delirious?
Piercing gray eyes, broad chest, chiseled abs.
Pick one.
His perfectly sculpted body, the low timbre of his voice while he urged her on, and those sinfully talented hands and mouth of his didn’t help, either.
Nope, not one darn bit.
She drew the comforter back while Connor slipped back into bed, then hauled the covers over his little body, planting a kiss on his forehead before turning to leave.
It was becoming blatantly obvious to Lana that Randall Burns was soon becoming her Achilles heel. An incurable weakness. His touch, his kisses were lethal to her normally-subdued sensibility.
“He all right?” Randall questioned when Lana emerged from Connor’s room.
Nodding feebly, Lana carefully closed the door behind her and motioned for Randall to follow her into the living room. “That can’t happen again”, she uttered quietly. “Do you know how close we were to Connor walking in on us?”
Randall ran his hands through his dark hair before resting them low on his hips. “I know. It was too close.”
“We can’t do this”—she gestured between them with her hands”—when he’s here. It’s too risky. I’m sorry.”
Randall stepped forward, palming her face, tilting her head back a bit so he could look into her blues eyes. “We’ll be more careful next time—there is a next time, right?”
Seductively nibbling her bottom lip, Lana smiled. “Are you kidding me? After the way you left me hanging a few minutes ago, you owe me a next time.”
Chapter 20
Mayor Cliffburg sat on his throne at the front of the small auditorium as eager residents filed into empty seats for the monthly city commission meeting. He liked to think he was a charismatic man—these mindless imbeciles had voted him into office for two terms, after all. Obviously they liked him.
Typically he could be found chatting up the residents on a night like this, mingling, laying the foundation for what would likely be another term in office come this November.
But not tonight.
Because at the moment he couldn’t peel his eyes off the lovely Lana Phillips.
It wasn’t an unusual phenomenon, really: watching her. But tonight there was something mysteriously peculiar about her. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it yet, but he would. He had a keen sense, a God-given ability to read people—just one of the reasons why he was such a successful politician. He used these artful skills regularly, analyzing body language, interpreting the hidden meaning behind idle conversation. Hell, he knew what most of the feeble-minded people in the room tonight wanted before they did.
But something about Lana’s calm, buoyant demeanor eluded him.
She seemed…different, somehow. Good different.<
br />
The average Joe here tonight probably hadn’t noticed the change. At first glance she appeared normal, which was to say: simply beautiful. But his trained eyes saw something new—a brilliant spark, if you will.
The kind of radiance a woman exhibited when she was open to change.
Open to…possibilities…
Squirming in his leather executive chair, he tried to find a comfortable position that didn’t expose the bulge growing behind the fly of his khaki Dockers. Eyeing the clock, he reached for the coveted gavel and gave the small square block a hard whack, transferring his sexual frustration to the wooden mallet.
The mayor cleared his throat before addressing the room. “Good evening, folks. We have a lot to cover tonight, so if you don’t mind I’d like to get an early start.”
His eyes targeted Lana’s angelic face. He noted the confusion that’d briefly settled between her dark brows, and then his focus landed on the sway of her hips as she hurried to her seat, the rapid tempo of her black heels tapping against the floor conjuring up all sorts of inappropriate images in his mind. Reaching for the device she used to record the meeting in its entirety, she sunk into her chair, giving him a firm nod to proceed.
“Okay… For the record, today’s date is April seventeenth, two-thousand-thirteen. And let the record also reflect that Commissioner Anthony and Commissioner Rhodes are both present, as well. The first topic on our lengthy agenda this evening touches on the scheduled repaving of Main Street. Commissioner Rhodes”, he uttered into the mic as he turned his head slightly to the right, “can you give us an update about that project?”
“Certainly, Mayor Cliffburg. The proposed repaving of Main Street is…”
With the crowd’s attention focused on Commissioner Rhodes, the mayor’s eyes veered to the brunette sitting in the front row to his left. The hem of her pale yellow skirt had risen to mid-thigh, exposing her bare, lean legs. She’d crossed them like the lady she was, her top foot subtly swinging.
Up. Down. Up. Down.
The back of her shoe slipped off her heel, and she balanced the black stiletto on the tips of her toes.
Rescue Me (Butler Island) Page 15