Submersed (26 page)

             
“What’s so funny?”

             
I lifted my head up to look him in the eye. “I just can’t believe you’re here with me.”

             
“On your beautiful private island.”

             
I gave him a quick pinch for his tone and in return, he playfully swatted me on the butt.

             
“It’s just that I lived here and spent a year of restless nights in this bed wondering if I’d ever be able to face mankind again.”

             
That year after Derrick, there was a lot of wine and tears involved. I mourned my innocence. I cursed my naiveté. I cursed the cruel bullies of the world.

             
The hand on my arm stilled. “I’m sorry things were so awful for you.”

             
“It’s all in the past,” I said and pressed a kiss to his nipple. “Is it always that amazing?”

             
“What?
Sex?”

             
“Yeah.”

             
Before I could blink, Dillon had flipped me on my back and was nuzzling my neck. “Let’s find out.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

             
The next morning, I laid in bed staring up at the ceiling, reflecting on the past few months of my life. They were just as important and significant as the two and a half decades before them.

             
I had accomplished a lot in a short time. I’d broadened my musical horizons and started using color again in my art. I’d stepped out of my comfort zone and trusted a man for the first time in six years. I’d started to trust myself again, too, and in turn realized I had a lot more to offer than that which could be accomplished by locking myself in a tower. I had let my hair down and it felt good.

             
“Are you going to be able to survive a whole week without going to the gym?” I asked Dillon.

             
“Oh, I plan on getting plenty of exercise.”

             
I blushed. I hadn’t thought of sex as exercise before.

             
He smiled and looked around the room. “The paintings in here are gorgeous. Are they all yours?” Dillon asked
,
studying a painting of a colorful lizard I’d seen resting in the sun on the porch railing six years ago.

             
I nodded.

             
My art hung all over the room. Tropical birds and palm trees over here.
Dolphins skimming the waves over there.
Across from the bed hung a colorful painting of tropical fish, so vivid they could have swum right through the wall. They were the last colorful paintings I painted before I moved to Las Vegas.

             
“Who knew I’d have to travel thousands of miles to see your art on display.”

             
I elbowed him and he squeezed me tighter around the waist.

             
“They’re so beautiful it’s like they
’
re in HD,
Livi
. It’s like looking at a photograph.
So much detail.”

             
His eyes wandered around the room, studying them all. I didn’t mind like I thought I would because he seemed to be enjoying himself so much. And it was the least I could give him when he’d given me so much.

             
“Thank you,” I said, tracing my finger down his arm.

             
“You have so much talent,
Livi
.
Probably more in your little finger than my whole body.”

             
“I don’t know.” I laced my fingers with his. “Your fingers are pretty talented.”

             
“
Livi
?”
Dillon’s tone changed. It wasn’t the happy-go-lucky tone I was used to, but something more serious.
More ominous.

             
“Yeah?”
I asked warily, pulling my hand from his.

             
“I have a confession to make.”

             
Oh, God, this was it. Panic swirled through my veins. Silently, I cursed him for waiting until I was naked and defenseless. I should have known all along this would happen eventually, but instead I’d allowed myself to get caught up in Dillon’s deception.
His lies.

             
This time I wasn’t going down without a fight. There would be a slap in the face or a knee to the groin.

             
I remained silent, waiting for him to drop the bomb. I waited and braced myself for the words he would use. What was I this time? Revolting?
Vulgar?
Hideous?
Would he be cruel like Derrick or smooth and suave in the way only Dillon knew how to be?

             
He stroked my hair and I wanted to slap his hand away and scream at him not to touch me, but I didn
’
t. Not yet.

             
“I think I might have misunderstood you a little when I first met you,” he said quietly. “I didn’t understand how someone could have such fear.”

             
“Oh,” was all I said. Okay, that wasn’t so bad. I let out the breath I was holding and turned to look at him.

             
“I had no right to judge you when I know what it’s like to be afraid.”

             
I almost laughed out lou
d
at that, but frowned instead because of the way he was looking at me. “Dillon, what could you have possibly ever been afraid of?”

             
“Well, a few things actually.
Of never being good enough.
Of people judging me for what I did for a living.”

             
“It’s okay. I understand,” I said softly. Somehow, I went from thinking about kicking him in the balls to comforting him all in two minutes flat. “You don’t have to worry about that anymore anyway. Not now with the gym and everything.”

             
“Yeah, but…I never told anyone else but you about my dream to open my own gym.
Besides Mike, of course.”

             
“No one else?”

             
“No. Not even my parents. I was afraid…I was afraid everyone would think I was dreaming too big. Or that I could never accomplish it. Or I wouldn’t have the guts or brains enough to follow through.”

             
“But you
did
do it, Dillon.”

             
“Yeah, I know. But before, when I first told you, you didn’t judge me or look down on me or laugh in my face.”

             
“Well, no.
Of course not.
I had no doubt you’d follow through with it. And,” I added, “It’s not like your dream was to open a casino next door to compete with my father
’
s. Now
that
would have been deserving of a good ole laugh in the face.”

             
Dillon smiled and everything was right between us again.

             
A lime green gecko skittered upside down across the ceiling, no doubt on the hunt for mosquitoes.

             
“You’re itching to paint him, aren’t you?” Dillon’s voice interrupted my thoughts.

             
“No. As a matter of fact, I was just wondering how long I’d give you before I initiated round t
hree
.”

             
“Oh yeah?” he asked, rolling on top of me.

             
Before I could answer, his mouth was on my breast and I was at a loss for words.

Chapter Twenty-Five

             
The next day, I stood at the kitchen table, pondering what to bring Dillon for breakfast when I noticed a small colorful parrot perched in the coconut palm just outside the window. I grabbed a sketchpad from the counter--I kept them scattered around the bungalow so they were always handy for occasions like this--a handful of colored pencils and rushed back to the window. Knowing he could fly away at any moment, I frantically sketched his outline. If I remembered correctly from the field guide I kept in the living room, he was a type of Lorikeet. I’d seen them at
Bel
Ange
before, but I’d never seen one sit still for so long.

             
He had vibrant plumage, a green back and crown, a blue nape and bright red underside and cheeks. His long wing feathers streaked with blue and he had an orange bill.

             
When I’d captured most of him on my paper, he flew away with a shrill screech. I filled in the rest of my drawing from memory. After a few minutes, I set my pencil down and smiled. Silently, I thanked the colorful little bird for letting me capture him on paper. He would make a beautiful painting.

             
A second later, I heard Dillon’s footsteps behind me and felt him put his arms around my waist.

             
“Good Morning,” he
said,
his voice husky from sleep.

             
“Hi.” I set my pad down on the table and sighed.

             
Dillon’s body was warm and firm against my back. He peered over my shoulder at the sketch and whistled.

             
“He’s incredible. How do you do that?”

             
I smiled to myself and snuggled back into his warmth. “I just do.”

             
“I couldn’t draw a stick figure if my life depended on it and you can draw something in five minutes that looks like it
’
s going to fly right off the page.”

             
“You were watching me?”

             
“I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

             
He tilted his hips forward and I could feel his length hard against my bottom. I reached back and caressed his thigh and discovered he was naked. He leaned down and kissed my shoulder, sending a shiver through my body.

             
Before I knew what was happening, Dillon’s hands were sliding inside my robe to fondle my breasts. He found my nipples and he pinched them zealously. He must have untied my robe, because it was sliding down my body to the floor. He shoved the sketchpad out of the way and pressed me forward onto the table.

             
Something changed, something was different. Gone was the patient and delicate manner I’d come to know from Dillon Milano. In its place was a man possessed, a man consumed with passion. It was like, after all these months, he couldn’t hold back any longer. There was a difference between making love and fucking. We had made love in the bedroom, but this was something else.

             
This was fucking.

             
And I didn’t mind it one bit. After our sweet and prolonged affair at the hotel, it was electrifying to be blindly ravaged by Dillon
’
s warm and capable hands.

             
Those hands were everywhere at once.
In my hair, on my breasts, gripping into my hips.
Everything was harder, more intense.
More desperate.

             
He grabbed my breast, fondling my nipple until it hardened and strained against his palm. His other hand fisted the hair at the base of my neck and my scalp tingled. It should have hurt but it felt too damn good.

             
Somehow, he’d already slid on a condom and was nudging my opening. I widened my stance and leaned as far forward as I could until my breast squished onto the table. After some adjustments, Dillon was sliding into me.

             
I moaned as he filled me and I cried out when he hit my G-spot. The feeling was so intense from that angle it almost hurt. He pulled out and slid back in so deeps his balls smack against me.

             
The edge of the table dug into my stomach but I didn’t notice.

             
My legs started trembling as I tried to hold my stance.

             
When it became too much, I let go and toppled over the edge claiming my climax. As my inner muscles clenched around him, Dillon thrust one last time and came with a satisfied grunt.

             
I collapsed onto the table, thoroughly out of breath and thoroughly fucked.

             
Dillon must have known I had Bambi legs because he gathered me into his arms and set me up on the table. My pussy throbbed against the hard wooden table and I squirmed.