Picture Perfect (Butler Island)

by Nikki Rittenberry

  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 option. 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.

  This “thing” between them was supposed to remain casual. Fun… but there was nothing casual and fun about her inability to resist him.

  “Olivia?” he called again.

  “Yeah, sorry… Um, make sure the door’s shut behind you and the light’s off.”

  When he gave her the indication that he’d followed her directions, she unlocked the door and opened it.

  “Hey stranger”, he greeted.

  “Hi.” Suddenly intimidated by the amount of space he took up, she hurried to her work area and unplugged the enlargement machine. She did her best to keep her hands busy, afraid if she allowed them to idle, they’d begin wandering over his body.

  “What are you doing?”

  Some of the prints she’d developed earlier in the day were now dry. She carefully unpinned them and placed the photos on the counter. “Just enlarging some of the pictures I took on the beach the other day.” She could feel him approach from behind; felt a shiver of awareness zip down her spine.

  “Can I see?” he asked.

  Olivia handed him the small stack that’d dried and then turned around to gage his reaction. “What do you think?”

  Flipping through the pictures, he laughed. She’d secretly captured their playful dip into the frigid water. “You’re very talented.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You know, I have a confession to make: Dexter sneaking up on you was no accident.”

  Crossing her arms, she looked into his eyes. “Really? So Dexter’s also your wingman?”

  “Yeah… I saw you down on the beach and…”

  “And what, Grant?”

  After placing the photos down, he took a step forward and braced his hands on either side of her on the counter. “I don’t know.” Removing one of his hands, he began playing with a strand of her hair. “I wanted to be with you. I just really like being with you…”

  The safe light above cast the small work room in a soft, red glow. And although the room was dim, she could still see the intense hunger in his eyes. He wanted her and god knows she wanted him, too. The memory of his tantalizing touch was still etched in her mind. She felt a sudden sense of euphoria come over her, whether it was from inhaling the developer solution or their immeasurable physical chemistry, she didn’t know.

  Most likely the latter.

  She was at a crossroads. She could send him away and deny her body the pleasure she knew he could evoke, or simply give in and face the con-sequences later…

  “Lock the door”, she whispered.

  Grant let go of her hair and walked several paces to the right, turning the lock. He reached for her and pulled her closer to him. His mouth hovered over her lips for a few long beats, gently grazing over the surface, teasing her with every soft caress.

  Her lips tingled. And when she couldn’t con-tain the sensation any longer, she rose onto her toes and took control of the kiss. Her tongue charged into his mouth, connecting with his, communicating in an unspoken language.

  He hadn’t come here for this. His mission had been to simply talk to her—find out why she was suddenly avoiding him. But he’d found a better use for his mouth. Kissing Olivia was like breathing—it was essential for his existence. He was treading rough water and her lips were like a flotation device—he was going to cling to them for his survival.

  Backing her up against the counter adjacent to the door, he ran his hands down her back and cupped her firm, round bottom and lifted. He sat her on the countertop and settled his body between the V of her legs. Running his callused hands over her smooth thighs, he peered into her hooded eyes. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything”, he mumbled.

  Olivia smiled. “Wow, I guess I have some really big shoes to fill.”

  Grant reached over his shoulder, grabbing a fistful of his shirt, and quickly removed it. And after he tossed it aside, he assisted Olivia with the removal of her cotton blouse and white satin demi-bra. Completely bare from the waist up, he couldn’t peel his eyes away from her beautiful body. He lightly pinched one of her pebbled nipples between his thumb and index finger as he kissed her neck. Slowly trailing open-mouth kisses along her collarbone before finally targeting her perfectly round breasts.

  She inhaled a quick breath the moment his mouth settled over her nipple, her body recalling the memory of the last time he’d kissed her there days earlier on his couch. Her mind and body were waging a war: her brain busy listing all of the reasons why this was a bad idea, while her body encouraged her to finish what they’d begun.

  Her body won the internal combat.

  Fisting her fingers in his hair, she held him in place. She didn’t want to think anymore, she just wanted to experience it—to feel him.

  His hands glided across her silky skin. He wanted to touch her—everywhere—all at once. Her fingers were tugging softly in his hair, her breaths were swift and shallow, and the taste of her skin threatened to send him to another dimension. Suddenly, it wasn’t enough—he wanted to get closer, deeper.

  His lips ascended to her collarbone as his hands migrated to the hem of her faded denim skirt. He nudged the material up several inches when he was abruptly interrupted.

  Olivia gripped his wrists. “Wait”, she interjected breathlessly.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked as his mouth continued its assault on her shoulder.

  “Nothing. It’s just… it’s been a long time. I don’t do this sort of thing often.

  “When’s the last time?”

  Olivia hesitated for a moment as she relished the sensation of his lips against the crook of her neck. “Um… over a year.”

  Shocked, Grant pulled back and met her gaze. “Over a year?” he asked in disbelief.

  Nodding her head, she went on, “And before that, I can’t even remember the last time. Look, I know I tend to act aggressive at times. But that’s all it is—an act.”

  Touched by her willingness to share something so personal about herself, he suddenly felt a twinge of guilt. She didn’t do “physical relationships” and that admission made him respect her all the more. She was so unlike any woman he’d ever met and the last thing he wanted to do was pressure her into something she wasn’t quite ready for. “Do you wanna stop?”

  The fact that he asked made her heart swell a bit. No man had ever reached this point and then asked how she felt; they’d just assumed she was on board. At that moment rationale receded, all doubts faded. The only thought that remained was Grant—right now—with her—inside her.

  “No. I’m just a little nervous, I guess”, she softly admitted.

  Grant cupped her face, his eyes boring into hers. “Don’t be nervous. We’ll go slow. And I promise, I’ll make it feel good.”

  Oh. My. God.

  If the pre-game festivities were any indication of his ability to make good on his promise, there was no doubt that the main event would leave her very satisfied.

  And truthfully, that’s all she really needed. There was no denying their chemistry. They were both clearly attracted to one another. Maybe sleeping with Grant was a good idea—she’d get him out of her system and the overwhelming urge to feel his hands on her body would lessen.

  At least she hoped it would.

  “Lift up”, he instructed.

  She complied, lifting her bottom as he hooked his fingers underneath the sides of her silk panties. He slowly lowered them down her legs and then tossed them to the ground before stepping between the V of her legs again.

  After bunching her denim skirt up around her waist, his eyes feasted on her flawless body. Her figure was indefectible: firm, toned, yet round—perfectly proportioned for his pleasure. This moment—this woman—would star in his fantasies long after they were through.

  Unable to resist any longer, he opened his wallet and grabbed a condo
m. Unbuttoning his pants, he lowered them and then quickly sheathed himself.

  His body was ready and to ensure she was as well, he reached between the V of her legs and found her wet, slick, and waiting.

  She moaned at his touch, the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. Desperate to hear it again, he gently pressed the pad of his thumb against her most sensitive spot and began moving it in soft, lazy circles.

  “Grant”, she panted. “Please…”

  With his thumb still stroking her, he began kissing her neck, savoring the sound of her pleads, her breaths. “Please what…?”

  “Please don’t torture me”, she begged.

  Gripping the back of her lower legs, he tugged her body closer so that she sat on the edge of the counter. And then remembering his promise, he slowly penetrated her warm, slick center with his throbbing length.

  Olivia gasped as he carefully nudged into her, her eyes wide with shock.

  “You okay?” When she nodded her head, he plunged deeper, but he still couldn’t enter all the way. “Wrap your legs around my waist”, he instructed. He plunged again, this time stifling the sweetest whimper of pleasure. He could feel her tense body starting to relax, finally giving in to bliss.

  “Holy shit, you’re tight—you feel so fucking good…”

  Her skin was ablaze, devouring her in a fiery ecstasy. Sex had never felt this good before, this intense. She longed for release and then silently cursed herself, never wanting the sensation to end. How was it that this man knew her body so well? Knew how to draw her out of herself?

  He wanted to occupy her body completely, but he was still unable to fully enter her in their current position. Not wanting to place her on the cold concrete floor, he scooped his hands underneath her voluptuously firm bottom, hoisting her into his arms. Pivoting toward the door, he pinned her body against it and in one swift motion, lunged his rigid cock into her slick, snug heat.

  She cried out his name as he buried his thick shaft deep into the depths of her body, the feeling so foreign, so intense—so damn amazing.

  “Does that feel good?” he asked, his voice dripping with arousal.