Devil and the Deep (The Deep Six) (18 page)

9:22 p.m.…

Maddy reached for the little metal cleats holding Bran’s Ace bandage in place. But she dropped her hands when she saw her fingers were shaking so badly that she reckoned if she tried to perform her Florence Nightingale routine, she’d bumble the whole gosh-darned thing.

The story he’d told…
Sweet heavens…

She didn’t know what to ask, what to say, what to
do
. And she was completely overwhelmed by a whole host of emotions. There was sorrow for all he’d endured. Anger at the savagery of a world that had forced him to withstand it all. Helplessness that there was nothing she could do to change what had happened. And sadness that because of his past, she would never get the chance to find out if he was…the one.

And there it was. She’d been avoiding putting a name to it. The one.
Her
one.

Except…he wasn’t. He didn’t
want
to be. He wouldn’t
let
himself be. Because of all he’d endured. Because of all this savage world had forced him to withstand. Because there was nothing she could do to change what had happened.

And around and around it goes…

She screwed her eyes closed and mourned the loss of him. Which was silly. She’d never had him to begin with.

But I had the
hope
of him.

Opening her eyes, she reached for the soiled Ace bandage, but Bran’s voice, so soft and low, stopped her. “Please leave it.”

She glanced up and their gazes collided. Just…
wham!
It was a blow that nearly knocked her on her ass. She flung out a hand to steady herself against the side of the lighthouse. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected to see in his face, but it certainly wasn’t bone-deep, soul-deep hunger. The kind of hunger that started wars, toppled kingdoms, and changed the history of the world. The kind of hunger that was saved for women like Cleopatra and Helen of Troy, not for Madison Powers.

All her pain and sorrow and regret were momentarily scorched away by the fire burning in his dark eyes. Every hair on her head stood up as if she’d grabbed hold of a live wire. And her skin felt ten degrees too hot, so hot she wondered if she was feverish, delirious, imagining things.

“Bran?” Was that her voice? She’d never heard it so husky.

“Sorry,” he gritted, his jaw sawing back and forth. “It’s just that you were…” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “You were pressed up against me a second ago. And you’re so soft. And so sweet. And so…
everything
.” Her heart grew wings and flew right out of her chest. “And now you’re down on your knees in front of me. And we might be friends, but I’m also a red-blooded man, babe.”

And now her stupid heart wasn’t just flying, it was doing loopty loops. She jumped to her feet. The idea she’d been toying with earlier solidified in her head. She knew what she wanted to do. Knew what she
had
to do. It was the only option left to her.

“Friends with benefits,” she blurted.

Bran had a way of going completely still that was unnerving and slightly…
predatory
. A smarter woman might have backed away from the danger flashing in his eyes.
She
took a step closer, closing the distance between them until they were toe-to-toe.

“W-what?” he asked slowly, a muscle ticking frantically in his wide jaw.

“We should be friends with benefits,” she said, lifting her chin even higher.

She could tell the idea shocked him by the slight narrowing of his eyes, the way the muscles in his face seemed to tighten. But beneath that shock was intrigue and maybe, just maybe…excitement. She decided to press her case.

“Look,” she said. “There’s all this…
tension
between us. This crazy,
sexual
tension, right?”

He didn’t say anything, just stood there, stock-still, like he was afraid any sudden movement and
whoops!
his penis would accidentally slip into her vagina.

Not that I’d complain.

“So let’s scratch the itch,” she said. “Let’s solve this mystery. Let’s make like Nike and
just do it.
And then once we’ve
done it
, all the curiosity and tension will ease and we can focus on what’s important, bein’ friends.”

He shook his head slowly at first. Then he picked up speed.

“Why not?” she demanded, fisting her hands on her hips. “It just makes good sense.”

At least it did to her. Because he was in her blood, like a disease. A wonderful disease. And she wasn’t sure she could recover from him any other way. She needed to know. Know
him
. Like getting a vaccination. She needed an infusion of the live virus so she could eventually become immune.

But he didn’t seem to get it. She decided to change tactics. “Unless…you’re worried it won’t be any good and then it’ll make things weird between us.” She screwed up her face as if she really thought this might be a possibility.

“It’ll be good,” he gritted.

“Well, I figured as much,” she allowed charitably. “What with all the practice you’ve had. Unless…” she said again, cocking her head.

“Unless what?”

“Unless the reason you’ve had so many one-night stands isn’t because
you
wanted it that way, but because your partners wanted it that way. Oh, Lord Almighty. You don’t do that weird jackhammer thing, do you?” When he lifted a brow, she clarified. “The one that’s all
bam, bam, bam!
” She clapped her hands together to illustrate her point and was reminded of the splinter. “No real finesse and definitely no real friction on any of the parts that need it. Or, ew…” She made an awful face. “Are you one of those guys who thinks a clitoris is like a magical
go
button and all you have to do is give it a quick flick and assume that should be enough to—”

“It’ll be
good
,” he insisted. And now the muscle in his jaw was twitching fast enough to beat the band.

“Care to put your money where your mouth is?” she challenged, batting her lashes, knowing the best way to goad a man into doing something was to challenge his prowess.

Four older brothers, remember?

“Maddy.” The way he said her name, emphasis on both syllables, had her coming right back at him with a slow “Bran.” She made sure to thicken her accent, splitting his name into two parts and stressing both.

“Are you trying to seduce me?” His voice was so dry and hoarse it sounded like someone had shoved a wad of cotton down his throat.

“Nope,” she assured him, glancing pointedly at the bulge straining his fly.
Well, hello again, Mr. Wood. So nice to
see you!
“By the looks of things, that’s already done.”

He expression turned pained. Then he reached down to adjust himself.

When Maddy saw his wide-palmed hand grab the thickness of his shaft through the fabric of his cargo shorts, her throat dried up.
Who is this person with the cotton?
Heat spread across her chest, tightening her nipples.

There was nothing sexier than watching a man touch himself and knowing you were the cause of his excitement. She’d
dreamed
of this moment, fantasized about it. And she stared with a watering mouth and aching core as he gritted his teeth, sucking in a breath like his touch brought both pleasure and pain. When he found a position he liked, he released himself and Maddy blew out a ragged breath.

“Next time,” she told him, licking her lips, “let me do that for you.”

“Maddy.” He emphasized her name the same way as before. So, same as before, she met him with “Bran.”

“You’re not a friends-with-benefits kinda woman,” he insisted.

“You’re right,” she admitted. “Sex always equals commitment for me.
Eventually
. Which is why I’m proposin’ we become friends with benefits just once. Just tonight.”

So she was Paula Abdul-ing it after all. Those three girls were too smart for their britches. “And after tonight?” His pulse was pounding in his neck.
Her
pulse was pounding decidedly lower.

“After tonight we go back to the present state of affairs. Friends. Email buddies.
Pen pals
.” She grinned evilly when she used the phrase he would probably prefer she struck from her vocabulary. “With all the appropriate itches havin’ been fully scratched. If we can’t have it all, at least we can have this. And besides, maybe it’ll make things better between us. Easier. Make the friendship that much stronger.”

Her heart stuttered when he didn’t say anything for a ridiculously long time. Just stood there looking at her. Try as she might, she couldn’t read his expression. The man gave new meaning to the term
poker face
. But finally he said, “What if you end up regretting it?”

“Anything’s possible,” she admitted. Her conscience had been poking her on the shoulder during the entire conversation, trying to tell her something important. She’d studiously ignored it. Instead, she took a running jump. “But, honey, the worst mistake beats the hell out of never tryin’.”

* * *

9:28 p.m.…

Bran could hear the belief buried like a land mine beneath Maddy’s persuasive tone. And he was terrified that one false move would have him stepping on it and blowing his friggin’ legs off.

No matter how he looked at the situation, he was screwed. If he didn’t agree to give this one-night-only thing a go, he’d hurt her.
Again.
Reject her.
Again.
But if he agreed, there was a chance that tomorrow morning, in the cold light of day, she’d realize she really
wasn’t
okay with the concept. In which case, he’d hurt her.
Again.

He looked around, trying to figure out if by some small chance there was a third option. Unfortunately, the only thing that met his searching gaze was the long hexagonal circle of the fort’s parapets, the dark sea, and the lip that Maddy once again caught between her teeth.

Everything inside him was pushing him, needling him, damn near hitting him over the head with a rubber mallet to give Maddy what she wanted. One scenario
guaranteed
her hurt feelings, and the other one only guaranteed a
chance
of her hurt feelings, right? Right.

And now you’re rationalizing.

Damnit, he was. The soil of abstinence was oh-so-fertile ground for a breakdown of self-restraint.

Zero-dark-thirty
read the display on his diver’s watch.
Don’t be a fool,
warned his brain.
Trust me and give me one night,
said her liquid mercury eyes.

“Bran?” she finally said when he’d been quiet for too long. And even the way she said his name was a turn-on. “Say somethin’,” she insisted, her voice deliciously low and throaty.

“I don’t wanna step on my dick here,” he managed. “So I figure I’m better off keeping my damn mouth shut.” And
that
was the third option he’d so desperately been searching for. Neither Door A nor Door B, but Door C. Behind which was shut-up-and-hope-it-all-miraculously-goes-away.

Her expression turned impish. “Well, I wholeheartedly agree with that first thing. I don’t want you steppin’ on your dick since I have plans for it that require it bein’ in top-notch shape.”

He made a weak, strangled sound at the back of his throat. He was now harder than those nights when he’d lain in bed and jerked off while looking at the picture of her he’d found on the Internet—the one where she was in a short, black cocktail dress that showed off her flawless back and the high, tight curve of her ass. The one where her head was turned over her shoulder and she was grinning wickedly at whoever had snapped the photo.

“But I don’t agree with the second thing,” she continued, completely unaware he was teetering on the brink of what was likely to turn into a medical condition if he didn’t do something quick. “You keepin’ your mouth shut isn’t an option. Tell me what you’re thinkin’.”

What he was thinking? What he was
thinking
? He was thinking her deal probably made about as much sense as a cool spring breeze, but it was just as sweet and delicious and alluring.

“So what happens if we do this tonight, but instead of banking the fire, it only stokes it?” he demanded. He got the distinct impression that one-and-done wouldn’t cut it when it came to Maddy. In fact, he didn’t know if a-thousand-and-done would cut it. Not when there were a million things he wanted to do to her. A million things he wanted to share with her. A million things he wanted to learn about her and teach her about himself.

“Well, then we’ll have the Gulf of Mexico between us,” she said, shrugging. “Just like you said. Surely all that water and distance will be enough to bank any lingerin’ conflagration.”

The more she talked, the more she chipped away at the foundation of his reason. Particularly since he knew that
i
f
he did this, he’d have something real and wonderful to take out and cherish during those quiet times, those alone times when he allowed himself to touch upon the feelings he had for her, when he allowed himself to think about, to
dream
about,
what if
.

“You tempt me.” And that was the understatement of the damned millennium. “But, I…” He stopped there. For some reason he couldn’t force out the words.

“Nothin’ will change between us,” she swore, grabbing his hands and squeezing. Her touch affected him like it always did, making him hyperaware of the coolness of her fingers, the softness of her palms, the delicate feel of the bones in her hands. “Good or bad, fire stoked or banked, I will remain your friend. I swear it.”

His heart skipped a beat. Was it possible? Possible to have his cake and eat it too? Possible to know Maddy as a lover
and
a friend?

It seemed too good to be true. But, oh, how he
wanted
it to be true. He’d never wanted anything more in his life. Before he’d made the conscious decision to open his mouth, he heard himself asking, “You promise?” And there was so much longing in his tone. So much
desperate
longing.