Submersed (22 page)

             
With a couple quick scoots of his chair, he brought himself closer and was able to skim his fingers further up my thigh. I sighed and slid to the edge of my chair. The movement slid his fingers up closer to where I desperately needed them to be.
Right to the edge of my panties.
My breath hitched in my throat when he reached passed them and skimmed his fingers down the folds of my sex.

             
“Hell, I can’t wait until tomorrow to devour you,” he said huskily.

             
Suddenly he was down on his knees in front of me, pushing my dress up to my waist. My pussy tingled in anticipation of his mouth on me. Before I had time to think about what was happening, he was
shimmying
my panties down to my ankles.

             
He nudged my legs apart and I shivered at the hungry way he looked at my pussy. I felt an instant thrill from being exposed in an unfamiliar house. The air conditioner was cranked up to compensate for the oven and the cool air tickled my sensitive skin.

             
When his thumbs spread me open, I reached out and buried my fingers in his thick hair, urging him closer. Then he leaned forward and pressed a wet kiss between my legs. I moaned at the sensation. My ass nearly slid off my chair, but Dillon anticipated this and anchored me by placing my feet on his shoulders. This tilted me at an incredible angle and Dillon took advantage by delving his tongue into my center.

             
Between his
thumb
on my clit, his fingers stroking me from within and his tongue flicking me into a frenzy, the triple assault had my senses reeling.

             
A small cry escaped my lips and I let my head fall back. His hand stilled and he whispered, “Look at me,
Livi
.” I did and he smiled at me, his lips glistening with my honey. “You taste
amazing
.”

             
I had no words and he quickly resumed lapping my clit into a swollen bundle of nerves.

             
I forced myself to look down and watch his dark head bob between my thighs, worshipping me.

             
It didn’t take long to feel the burst of my climax. Bright flashes of light exploded behind my eyelids as my pussy quivered with a spasm. I was out of breath and felt myself slump over onto the table. When I finished catching my breath, I looked up shyly. Dillon helped me back into my panties and smoothed my skirt down for me.

             
It touched my heart how thoughtful and gentle he was with me. He never gave me any reason not to trust him. Obviously I’d felt comfortable enough with him and trusted him enough to have a raging orgasm in his dining room.

             
He pulled me to him and I sat on his lap. I could feel his hard-on underneath me and I shifted to give him more room. His arm tightened around me.

             
“Be still,
Livi
,” he said hoarsely. “Just give me a minute, okay?”

             
We sat like that until his breathing slowed and he was “relaxed” enough to get up. I felt awful for him. I wanted to relieve him and his discomfort, but despite my big talk earlier, I was still petrified of the consequences.

             
I knew I had to conquer my fear soon or it would be the end of both of us.

Chapter Nineteen

             
All morning, Dillon had patiently stood for me while I started on his painting. I was able to finish sketching his outline, paint in a dark background in umber with a touch of blue and add details to his clothes, hair and facial features. Now, I just had to wait a couple days before the canvas would be dry enough to do the second application without smearing my first day’s work.

             
We were in the living room kissing on the couch and I startled when the phone rang. Dillon gave me a reassuring smile, so I got up, went to the kitchen where I’d left the phone and answered it.

             
“Miss Olivia,” Frank said in his formal brisk tone. “Mr. Sharpe is here to see you.”

             
My stomach wrenched. Oh God, Daddy was here and Dillon was lounging on the couch. I couldn’t send my father away. He knew I was up here.

             
“Send him up, please. Thank you, Frank.”

             
I hung up and spun around to Dillon. “My father’s here.”

             
Dillon sat up straight in mock surprise. “Should I hide?” he asked, and then smirked.

             
That was a brilliant idea. Then the whole awkward situation could be avoided.
Easy as that.

             
“How ‘bout the closet?”
Dillon asked, jumping up, darting around the room.
“How ‘bout over here?”
Dillon ducked behind a chair and I laughed when he peeked out at me. “
Oooh
, I know the perfect spot!” he cried and darted to the window and hid behind the drapes.

             
His feet stuck out at the bottom and I doubled over with laughter.

             
By the time my father knocked on the door, I was out of breath, my cheeks hurting. I stood up straight, took a few deep breaths and opened the door.
“Daddy!
Hi!” I exclaimed, a little too cheerily.

             
“Olivia. Good morning.”

             
My father brought me in for a brief hug and kissed my cheek just like he always did. He glanced over at Dillon who had taken a seat on the sofa.

             
“Daddy, you remember Dillon?”

             
“Of course.
Nice to see you again, Dillon.”

             
Dillon stood and the two men shook hands.

             
“I hope I’m not interrupting.”

             
I waved my hand. “No, Daddy.”

             
“
Livi
was just working on painting my portrait.”

             
“Oh.” My father’s brow arched. He looked at me and back at Dillon again.

             
My insides jolted. Did he suspect what we were really doing up here? I calmly reminded myself that I wasn’t sixteen and it was perfectly acceptable for me to have a man in my room.

             
I attempted one of Dillon’s casual shrugs. “It’s a profile portrait,” I fibbed. I didn’t want my father knowing I was painting Dillon’s body or, heaven forbid, think I was doing a nude.

             
“Sounds interesting.”

             
“Oh, Mr. Sharpe, I wanted to thank you for leaving me a guest pass for the gym downstairs.”

             
“It was no problem. What’d you think of the facilities?”

             
Dillon flashed a million-watt smile. “After I open my own gym, it’ll be tough explaining why I still come here to work out.”

             
“Ah, you’re too kind, Dillon.”

             
I smiled at Dillon. He could charm a Terrier out of its bark.

             
“So, you’re planning on opening your own place?”

             
“Yeah.
Me
and a
buddy of mine are.”

             
“Well, I wish you the best of luck. Let me know if there’s anything you need. I’d be glad to help.”

             
“Thanks. I appreciate that.”

             
“Daddy,” I broke in. “Since you’re here, I have something for you.”

             
I led him into my bedroom and handed him the golf landscape I’d finished painting and had framed. “It’s the piece I promised you for your new office.”

             
My father took the painting as if it was made of porcelain and his eyes lit up. “Olivia, it’s exquisite.”

             
Pebble Beach
had a sort of dreamy quality to it and I was satisfied with how it turned out.

             
When he looked up at me, I could see the pride in my father’s eyes.

             
“Thank you,” he said tightly and brought me in for a hug.

             
“Your very welcome, Daddy.”

             
I noticed Dillon had hung back in the doorway and let me have this private moment with my father. It made me wonder how someone could be so considerate and so attentive all the time.

             
I looked back at my father. “I hope it goes with your new décor.”

             
“It’s perfect, Olivia. Even if it didn’t, I’d have the entire building designed around this.”

             
I blushed. “I’m glad you like it.”

             
“It reminds me of your paintings at
Bel
Ange
.” My father turned to Dillon. “Olivia has an island called
Bel
Ange
in the South Pacific,” he explained.

             
Dillon gave an intrigued nod.
“Oh, really.
Livi
never mentioned it.”

             
Like the topic of
private island
ownership ever came up in our conversations.

             
I looked back at my father and could almost see the wheels turning in his head.

             
“It’s a beautiful place. Well, I’d better get back to the office and leave you two to work. Thanks again for this, honey.”

             
“You’re welcome.”

             
After my father left, Dillon pulled me close and kissed the top of my head.

             
“So,” Dillon dragged out the word. “You have an island.”

             
“Don’t say it like that. It sounds pretentious.”

             
“Fine.
Where is this pretentious island?”

             
“It’s near Tahiti.”

             
He whistled. “Wow, it must be amazing there.”

             
“Oh, it’s the most beautiful place on Earth. If heaven isn’t anything like
Bel
Ange
, then I don’t want to go.”

             
He studied my face. “You love it there.”

             
“I do. It’s like paradise. My family vacationed in Bora Bora once when I was in high school and I could never get it out of my head. After the whole Derrick thing, my father bought
Bel
Ange
for me as a sort of retreat.”

             
“You’re just full of surprises,
Livi
. Today I found out that not only do you have a tropical island, but you paint golf courses, now too.”

             
I sighed. “I didn’t show you because I wanted him to see it first.”

             
“I know. It was gorgeous.”

             
“Thanks to you.”

             
“How’s that?”

             
“Your crazy rock and roll music inspired me to use color again.”

             
“I can’t take all the credit. It was inside you all along.”

Chapter Twenty

             
On Tuesday night, when Dillon walked through my door, he was carrying a bucket of ice with a champagne bottle nestled inside.

             
“What’s with the champagne?”

             
He looked like he would burst if he didn’t tell me in the next five seconds. “I have some really good news,” he said, his grin spreading across his face.

             
“What
’
s going on?” I asked.

             
Dillon uncorked the bottle and poured two glasses. “Let’s have a toast.”

             
I took a glass from him and raised my glass to his. “What
exactly
are we toasting to?”

             
“Drum
roll
please…Mike and I finally have enough to open our own gym! I don
’
t have to escort anymore!”

             
My heart dropped into my shoes and I nearly choked on the champagne.