Submersed (10 page)

             
The group let out an excited murmur.

             
Champagne mixed with panic and churned inside my stomach. It felt like I was swimming underwater.
Drowning.
Gasping for breath.
Submersed in terror.
Everything sounded like I had my earplugs in and my vision swirled. I couldn’t see. I couldn’t breathe.

             
Somehow, I managed to plaster a smile on my face and tried to focus on what the woman in front of me was saying. I think she was asking something about inspiration but her voice was jumbled inside my head with the eerie sound of laughter.

             
Repulsive.
Ugly.
Dirty.

             
The words choked me and the laughter clawed at my eyes.

             
I looked around for the exit and found myself surrounded by a whole mob of people. There were so many of them.
Blurry faces and rumbling voices.

             
My legs were too wobbly to run away like I wanted to and I couldn’t exactly change my molecular structure to melt me into the floor.

             
Where was a transporter when you needed it? It was the twenty-first century. Weren’t we supposed to be able to announce, “Beam me up Scotty” and have it actually happen by now?

             
“She’s beautiful,
Livi
,” Dillon was saying to me.

             
I couldn
’
t breathe. There was no air. The air was laughter.

             
“I have to go,” I stammered. “We have to leave.”

             
“Are you okay?” His beautiful face was warped in concern and I was going to pieces.

             
“No. I need to leave,” I hissed through gritted teeth.

             
“Okay. Okay.” Dillon looked around the room and addressed to the group. “Excuse us, everyone,” he said sternly and led me outside, just like that.

             
Even though my hand was sweaty and disgusting and dirty, Dillon didn’t let go until we were standing outside in front of Davenport
’
s Imports. Except for a young couple smoking cigarettes on the corner, it was deserted outside.

             
I sucked in a breath of warm night air. Even though it was balmy outside, I shivered.

             
Dillon looked down at me with concern. He squeezed my hand and leaned down to kiss my forehead. “Stay right here and give me a second.”

             
My teeth chattered and found it difficult to form a complete sentence. “Dillon…
please…
what…?”

             
“I’ll take care of it,” he insisted. “Just stay here and get some fresh air. I’ll be
right
back.
I promise
.”

             
I should have panicked. Dillon was leaving me outside by myself.
In a strange place.
In the middle of the night.
Where there were hoards of people a room away, waiting to devour me and shred me to bits.

             
But I didn’t panic. The calm and confident way he spoke to me told me everything was going to be all right. His comforting tone put my mind to rest. He wouldn’t abandon me. He wouldn’t throw me to the wolves. Everything was going to be okay. He had promised.

             
Dillon walked over and said something to the parking valet and then went back inside the dealership. I watched him through the windows as he made a beeline to Cornelia. They exchanged a few words, he kissed her on the cheek and he came back outside to me.

             
He came back to me just like he said he would.
Just like he promised.

             
Cornelia caught my eye through the window, smiled and waved. I gave her a somewhat shaky wave back, but didn
’
t smile.

             
Our driver pulled up with the car at the same time Dillon came outside of the building. He ushered me inside the limo without a word and settled in next to me. A protective arm came around me and I felt myself snuggling into his warmth.

             
“I’m sorry,” I finally mumbled, breaking the silence.

             
“
Sshhh
.
It
’
s
okay,
Livi
.” He rubbed my arm and I welcomed the soothing touch.

             
I leaned my face against his rock-hard chest and felt tears burn behind my eyes. It had been so horrible. There had been so many people.
So many eyes.

             
“I got overwhelmed,” I explained in a broken whisper. He had to know. I had to make him understand.

             
“I know,” he said softly. “There were a lot of people in there.” He took my hand and made small circles over my wrist with his thumb. I focused on the steady movement and it helped me to relax.

             
Dillon was touching me and I wasn’t freaked out by it. He had even kissed my forehead and I only felt tenderness.

             
He was silent for a minute before saying, “Everyone loved your painting, though. I think they just got a little too excited when they heard you were the artist.”

             
I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe that they weren’t laughing at me. I also wanted to believe that I wouldn’t be like this for the rest of my life.

             
“Thank you,” I said in a weak voice.

             
“No problem. You sure you don’t
wanna
hit a few clubs? That dress is really
smokin
’ hot.”

             
I opened my mouth to protest and I ended up laughing at the mischievous look on his face. He was joking and I had to give him credit. Somehow, he had a way of making me feel better, calmer.

             
“So, are we still on for that popcorn?” he asked.

Chapter Seven

             
“Are you sure you want to do this?” I yelled from inside the kitchen. I had changed out of my dress and into a tee shirt and cotton pants. The change of clothes helped me just as much as being back in my own element.

             
“It was my idea, wasn’t it?” Dillon answered back.

             
“Well, technically, it was mine.”
             
I pulled a package of extra buttery movie theater style popcorn from the cupboard and shoved it in the microwave. I could hear Dillon turn the TV on in the bedroom, not the living room.

             
I had overreacted at the dealership but he didn’t judge me or try to make me feel like a fool. Instead, he had taken control of the situation and helped me out of it. I owed him a lot more than popcorn.

             
A few minutes later, I came out with the popcorn and Dillon was flipping through the channels. He had taken off his jacket, tie and shoes and unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt. I looked at the exposed skin there and wished I could see more of it. I wanted to feel the skin on his chest to see if it was as warm as his hands.

             
I popped a piece of popcorn in my mouth. “Did you notice that one model serving champagne?”

             
“Which one?” he asked,
half paying
attention to the television.

             
“
You
know
,
the one with boobs out to here.”

             
Dillon looked at me and shook his head. “No, I must
’
ve missed her.”

             
“How could you miss her?” I scolded. “She
wasn’t
hard to miss.”

             
“I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “What about her?”

             
“Well, I think she was the same one Mr. D had his hands all over at the charity dinner.”

             
“Really?
I must have been distracted by
all that
horsepower.”

             
I cocked my head to the side and studied him. “So, did you have fun? I mean,
before
I had a meltdown.”

             
“Yeah.
We got to sit in a Conan’s Egg. It’s not every day you can say that, right?”

             
I giggled. “That
was
pretty exciting.”

             
Dillon took the bowl of popcorn from me and set it
down
on the nightstand. “Come here.”

             
He gave me the same look he’d given me the other night when I thought he was going to try to kiss me. He didn’t this time, but put his hands on my shoulders instead.

             
My stomach fluttered and then the look in his eyes disappeared. Disappointment replaced the butterflies when I realized I
wanted
him to kiss me this time.

             
Dillon moved his hands over my shoulders and his brows knit together. “Jeez,
Livi
, you’re tense.”

             
I couldn’t argue. There was six years
’
worth of tension in those shoulders.

             
He muted the television and focused all of his attention on me.

             
I should have shrugged away. I shouldn’t have let him put his hands on me. I should have r
u
n far, far away. But I was having a difficult time convincing my body of that.

             
He steered me to the bed where I sat down. He sat sideways next to me, working his hands over my shoulders, his touch not too firm, not too gentle. The perfect pressure was enough to make me purr in my throat. We rocked together with the rhythm of his hands and I nearly slid off the bed.

             
When his hands moved up and he paid special attention to the sensitive column of my neck, I nearly lost control. The tension there slowly started to disintegrate. I know he didn’t mean for it to be sensual, but the feel of his hands on my neck and shoulders caused a stirring sensation between my legs.

             
“Here, lay down on your stomach.” he said gently.

             
Oh, there
was going to
be more? I wasn’t sure I could take any more. Those hands were trouble and I was helpless against their power.

             
I did as he told me and then immediately felt foolish. My butt was probably sticking up and I had no idea where to put my hands. This was ridiculous. But Dillon didn’t seem to mind.

             
He knelt next to me, his knee nudged next to my hip. Then those warm hands were on me again, kneading my shoulders and back and I forget everything but his touch. He worked my aching muscles until his heat radiated through my thin shirt. It felt as good as a dream.

             
He didn’t say anything else so I remained quiet too. Where silence between people usually frightened me or made me uncomfortable, Dillon wasn’t afraid of it. He didn’t feel the need to fill the gaps with mindless chatter like I sometimes did.

             
At first, the years of knots in my back resisted him, clinging hard and coiled under my flesh. But the more Dillon rubbed, the more everything loosened up.

             
And I mean
everything
. Everywhere he touched, his heat burned me
. E
ven places he didn’t touch warmed and flushed with longing. I shifted
,
trying to ease the pulsing below my waist and Dillon remained oblivious of my longing.

             
He placed his thumbs on either side of the base of my neck and moved down, igniting small fires as he went. It was pleasure and pain rolled into one and I had to work hard to keep myself from moaning.

             
Then, he pressed the heels of his hands on each side of my spine. Using firm pressure, he slid both hands outward. Then he started again an inch higher and repeated this until he reached my shoulders and the
n
worked his way back down again.

             
Methodically, magically, his hands moved down by back to my waist and back up again. Then they kneaded their way back down. He stopped at my lower back and I was relieved he didn’t move any lower. He must have known I wouldn’t be comfortable with that. I might be ready for a kiss, but I wasn’t ready for
that
.