Rescue Me (Butler Island) (13 page)

“Tell me.”

“I-I need this.
I need
you
”, she whispered.

The last remnants of Randall’s self-restraint slipped
through his fingertips at her honest admission, eliciting bona fide masculine
instinct to operate in its absence. Withdrawing from her tight heat, Randall
slammed back into her body with a powerful thrust, then another. And another.

And another.

Their bodies collided, hearts pounded, and heavy breaths
intermixed with moans, groans, and cries of pleasure.

But he wanted more.

Wanted to reign over her body, using the size and
strength of his solid frame to his full advantage.

Sliding one of his arms between Lana and the wall, he
held her snug against his chest, turning toward the master bedroom at the end
of the hall.

Lana gripped his neck with her arms while her legs
squeezed his waist. She wasn’t entirely sure where he was going, only that
Randall was hell-bent on taking her with him.

Like there was somewhere else she’d rather be right now
…

Moments later they entered what appeared to be his
bedroom. It smelled like him: a mixture of spicy cologne, coastal winds, and
pure man. He turned on the small lamp next to his bed a second before she felt
her back press against the soft mattress. There was no time to glance around at
her surroundings, no time to probe into what the characteristics of the room
said about the man hovering above her, because one look into his glazed-over
gray eyes revealed a rabid man, ardently crazed.

For her.

The discovery raptured her breath. No one had ever looked
at her like that before, like her body was a doubled-edged sword: a total
cataclysmic breakdown of his control, and unclouded bliss, piled up into one
irresistible package.

He was still buried to the hilt, hovering while his eyes
roamed over her flushed skin. Aside from her lace bra, still askew from his
oral reconnaissance in the hallway, and her brown cowgirl boots, she was
completely nude. His attentive analysis suddenly allowed whispers of
uncertainty to sneak up on her.

What if he sees my imperfections
?
My
flaws
?
What if
—

Randall’s body slammed into hers again with such
force—such passion—her body slid against the mattress toward the oak headboard.
Lana cried out in pleasure, staring up at his captivating face.

He went still again. She could tell by the way his eyes
beamed an impassioned shade of steel-gray, the rapid rise and fall of his chest
as he sucked air into his lungs, and by the way he tightly clenched his jaw
that he was holding back. She didn’t want that; didn’t want him to curb his
desire.

Because she wanted him—
all of him
.

Every inch, every ounce of what he was capable of.
Digging the blunt heels of her boots into the mattress for leverage, she lifted
her bottom, grinding her body against his, pleading for him to ease the ache
between her thighs.

Breath hissed through his teeth as Lana seductively
rolled her hips, rubbing her slippery core against him. “God, Lana”, he
growled, the sound of his voice utterly unrecognizable. What little bit of
sanity he had left was blown to bits. Randall sat back on his knees and firmly
gripped her hips, plunging into her with as much power as he could muster.

Lana’s lusty cries urged him on. Every time he sank into
her tight heat he became more delirious; thoroughly maddened by how beautiful
she looked sprawled across his bed, completely aroused by how fucking amazing
she felt speared on his cock.

Tension swirled low in his groin. He was close, but he
refused to go there—not without Lana. Gripping her boots at her ankles, he
positioned her legs against his shoulders, then leaned forward a bit, bracing
his hands on either side of her head. “Open your eyes, Lana”, he murmured. “I
want to watch you when you come.”

Their new position shifted the angle, allowing him to
sink even deeper into her slick channel. He pounded into her body with powerful
thrusts, each one meant to drive them higher, further, until they reached the
crowning point.

“
Oh
,
God
!
Randall
!”

He held off until her inner walls clamped down on his
dick, milking him, extracting three long months’ worth of pent up infatuation.
His arms gave way as Lana’s legs slipped from his shoulders. Afraid he’d crush
her, he braced his upper body with his elbows, loving the sensation of her soft
breasts mashed against his solid chest.

“You feel amazing, you know that?” He murmured as he
nuzzled her neck, spreading light kisses along her vanilla-scented skin. Her
silence didn’t necessarily bother him at first; any woman who’d come apart as
passionately as she had would find speaking a rather difficult task. But when
his lips brushed the sweet spot just below her ear, her quiet demeanor took on
a whole new meaning.

She was crying.
Shit
!

Chapter 16

“Lana…”

She quickly turned her head away from him in an attempt
to hide her tears, but it was no use; he’d already seen them, tasted them.
Randall rose onto all fours and nudged her chin, turning her head to face him.
A steady flow of hot tears spilled over her lashes.
God, look what you’ve
done—you shouldn’t have been that rough
!

“Did I hurt you?” he questioned frantically.

Lana’s head shook from side-to-side just as a sob broke
free. “Damn it, Lana, talk to me!”

Like a caged animal she battled for freedom, squirming
underneath him, flailing her arms and legs until she managed to break free. She
scurried toward the doorway, the rapid click of her boots matching the pace of
his fleeting pulse.

Randall leapt off the bed and lunged toward her, but in
the midst of the hysteria he’d suddenly found himself in, he’d failed to
remember he hadn’t removed his pants. The top of his jeans lay bundled around
his knees, thwarting his hasty effort to latch on to her. Falling forward with
a heavy thud, he reached for her just as she disappeared into the hallway.

You have to fix this, damn it
!
You
have to make this right
!

Bracing his palms on the pine floor Randall pushed his
solid frame upright, hauling his pants over his hips as he charged into the
hallway after her. The bathroom door smacked against the frame, immediately
followed by the clicking sound of the lock as she barricaded herself behind the
wooden door.

“Lana!” He shouted as he skidded to a halt. He
frantically rattled the knob, even though he already knew it was locked, then
pounded on the wood with his fists. “Lana, please, open up!”

The panic in Randall’s voice only caused her tears to
fall faster. Lana covered her mouth with her hand and tightly clenched her eyes
shut as sob after sob spilled out of her.

She’d desecrated her vows. Spat on the promise she’d made
nearly seven years ago. Tainted her body with another man’s hands…

She’d cheated on her husband—
with his best friend
!

“Lana, damn it!”

She winced as he pounded on the door, vibrating the walls
with such fury she was surprised cracks hadn’t emerged along the plaster’s
smooth surface. Deep down she knew the overwhelming sense of panic mounting
inside her chest was partly unwarranted. Jimmy was dead, and no matter how much
she wanted him to, he wasn’t coming back. Being celibate for the rest of her
life was an unrealistic vision.

Wasn’t it?

“
Please
, Lana”, he begged softly, despondently.
“Will you just talk to me?”

It was his defeated tone that tugged her heart most. Even
as confused and baffled as she was by her feelings and what they meant, she
couldn’t do this to him. Randall had been so good to her, so caring. And
tonight she’d pushed and pushed until he revealed what he wanted. He’d warned
her more than once, giving her ample opportunities to walk away.

But she’d stayed anyway. And she knew why, too.

She was falling for Randall Burns.

Cradling her head in her hands she sucked in a hefty
liter of air, expelling it through her pursed lips, calming her rattled body
from the inside out. She couldn’t barricade herself inside Randall’s bathroom
indefinitely. She needed to face the music—
preferably with her panties on
.

“I-I need my clothes.”

“Lana—”

“Please, Randall… I promise we’ll talk once I get
dressed.”

Randall glanced at the pink panties and white dress next
to his feet and quickly snatched them off the floor. “Okay, I’ve got ‘em. Open
up.”

“Wait…”

Randall sighed, trying to ignore the instinctive urge to
break down the door. “This isn’t gonna work, Sweetheart. Not unless you open
the door”, he uttered with a calmness he didn’t feel.

“Promise me, you won’t barge in here until I’m fully
dressed.”

“Lana, I’ve seen every inch of y—”

“Please”, she uttered just above a whisper.

If it meant she would finally spill what’d caused her to
run off like she had, and more importantly, what he’d done to make her cry,
he’d do it. “I promise…”

The clicking sound of the lock disengaging was subsequently
followed by the groaning door. Lana reached one of her delicate hands through
the thin slit, waiting for Randall to deliver on his part of the deal. And when
he did she quickly snatched them from his grasp and nudged the door closed
behind her, removing the temptation of barging in on her by turning the lock.

With forethought, she maneuvered her satin panties over
her boots, turned her dress right-side out, and then slipped the soft cotton
garment over her head. She stole a quick glance in the mirror.

You look terrible
,
girl
!

Black moisture settled just below her eyes then narrowed
into two distinct streaks, marking the vertical path her tears had taken, and
her long brown locks were tousled in an unmistakable sex-induced mass. A few
passes with her fingertips easily erased the smudges and a quick finger-comb
soon had her I-just-got-laid hair back in order.

With a fortifying breath she turned the lock and opened
the door, not the least bit surprised to find Randall standing in front of her
with his hands braced on either side of the frame.

Randall peeled his hands from the molding and stepped toward
her. “Are you all right?” He questioned anxiously, palming the sides of her
face, his gray eyes boring into her blue depths.

With a subtle nod Lana closed her eyes and whispered,
“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” His arms wrapped around her small frame. She
stiffened at first, but soon relaxed, practically melting into his embrace.
“God, I’m the one who should be apologizing. The last thing I wanted was to
hurt—”

“You didn’t hurt me…”

Randall pulled back to look into her eyes. “So why the
tears, then, huh? Talk to me.”

Lana moistened her lips with her tongue, buying herself a
few extra seconds. “Remember when you asked me earlier if I trusted you?” She
watched as his head nodded, the concern in his eyes turning the steel hue a
deeper, drearier shade of gray. “Well, do you trust
me
?”

“Absolutely”, he answered without hesitation.

“Then please believe me when I say: you did nothing
wrong. I just…need some time”, she sighed. “I need to sit on this for a while
before I can talk about it. Does that make any sense?”

Randall nudged a strand of hair from her eye. “Not
really”, he uttered with a hint of a smile. “But…if that’s what you need,
consider it done.”

“Thank you”, she whispered.

The panic and fear that’d been practically palpable upon
the door opening moments ago dissolved, allowing Randall to draw in his first
deep breath since she’d appeared at his doorstep earlier. He still didn’t have
the answers he wanted, but just knowing his sexual aggression hadn’t harmed her
was enough.

For now.

Because he
would
get to the bottom of it
eventually.

Leaning forward he pressed his lips against her forehead,
lingering a bit longer than he’d intended to. He fought the urge to taste her
kiss again—fifteen minutes without her sweet mouth and he was already jonesing.
“Can I at least walk you to your car?”

“I’d like that.”

The weak smile Lana revealed was a small victory, he
knew. But considering how swiftly she’d scrambled from his bed, concealing
herself in his bathroom, it was a step in the right direction. He’d give her
twenty-four hours to mull over the details of what’d happened between them
tonight—what’d been slowly brewing since that night in his truck nearly three
months ago.

And then Randall would start pressing for answers.