In Too Deep (26 page)

"Trust me," he whispered darkly, then lowered his head once more to suckle her. Tally almost forgot what else he was doing.

The last few inches of the strand tickled across her belly before they, too, were tucked deep inside her.

Michael lifted his head to watch her. "How does it feel?"

Oh. It felt… odd
. "Full. Strange. E-erotic."

He kissed her mouth as if he was starving for her. "How about now?" And he started removing the pearls with agonizing slowness.

The sensation took Tally somewhere she'd never been before, somewhere dark and forbidden. She fought against it, bringing her hands up to try to push the intrusion away.

Michael was relentless. He used his free hand to capture her wrists, then held them there, flat on the mattress above her head. When her legs shifted restlessly, he threw a leg over hers to pin her to the bed. Even trapped as she was, Tally went wild as each pearl slid free, gliding, bumping along the bud of her sex. Pushing her higher, higher. Tally's head thrashed on the mattress, and she fisted her hands in the sheet.

Michael stopped. "Trust me?" he whispered seductively. There was a thread of tension there, a banked emotion she couldn't quite grasp.

Tally tried to catch her breath, which came now in shuddering gasps. "Come to the dark side, Luke… yes. No. All right! Yeeees."

Michael's chuckle vibrated against her throat. The smooth beads rubbed against the very heart of her. Shocking. Electrifying. A glorious, delirious urgency consumed Tally. Her heels dug into the mattress, her hips rocked as her body clenched. She began to whimper as the sensation overwhelmed her. She couldn't. Take. Any. More—

The sensations swept over her. Overwhelming in their intensity. She tried to pull away from them, even while her body arched in response to the drag of the necklace against her most sensitive flesh. She felt the kiss of each individual pearl. Each delicate, maddening, intimate, kiss.

Her head thrashed, and her body bucked.

Michael didn't stop. It was as if he knew she couldn't take any more, and he was relentlessly determined to prove to Tally she could.

He kept up the steady extraction, letting the beads do their magic as they were withdrawn inch by agonizing inch.

When she begged him to hurry, he kissed away her protest. When she wanted to bring her arms up to push him away, or to draw him close, he imprisoned her limbs.

She made a broken sound, and fought the build of sensation. Afraid to let herself fly into that darkness. Afraid to let go of everything sane and familiar. Then she had no choice.

The orgasm came harder, sharper than the last. And went on and on and on as Michael tormented her, withdrawing those damn pearls…

One.

Agonizing.

Bead.

At.

A.

Time.

She cried out his name in a long, heartfelt moan as she came. And came. And came.

Michael gathered her in his arms, feeling the shudders that still gripped her body. They were both slick with sweat. He ached from prolonged denial. But he'd achieved his goal.

She trusted him.

He let her doze in his arms, skin glued together, for fifteen minutes. Then he started again. She gave a sleepy protest when he ran kisses down her center meridian, and closed his mouth over her swollen folds.

She threaded her fingers in his hair as he cradled her hips in his large hands and brought her closer.

"There are no more O's in me, you know," she told him weakly. His tongue pushed inside her, and she moaned long and low. "Okay. M-Maybe
one
mooore—" She went over the edge.

While she shuddered and fell apart in his arms, Michael slid his body over hers and sheathed himself in her slick heat.

His body bucked and jerked with the intensity of the mating. It took mere seconds for him to come. His groan of sheer ecstasy could probably be heard in Bora-Bora.

After several minutes he rolled over, taking Tally with him. Still hard, still joined, he ran his hand down her sweaty back.

"That's it," Tally moaned. "Uncle. White flag. Pax. I give up."

Her skin quivered as his hand moved down her back. He stroked the baby-soft skin on her bottom. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." She kissed the side of his neck. "No more. I can't move a muscle."

He flexed his PC muscle. She went still. He did it again. Tally gave a choked laugh, "Obviously you can, Man of Steel. If you have one ounce of energy to leap me in a single bound, have at it." She rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes. "Wake me when you're done."

"Sure," Michael lied, rolling her over and plunging deep. She was as pliable as C4, and just as combustible when she sprawled bonelessly beneath him. She didn't open her eyes as he moved slowly. But the more he built the waves, one on top of another, the more she participated. She opened her eyes to glare at him. "No fair."

"I never said it was equitable, did I?"

She wrapped her arms around his neck and dug her heels into his butt, and held on.

Together they flew over the edge of the world.

Since they were the only UTD/SEAL team inserted, Michael and Hugo each carried several limpet mines attached to a simple harness on their backs. Although the mines contained very little explosive, it would blow them to smithereens if they weren't careful. They were very, very careful.

They'd also brought along some C4, with a waterproof M-60 underwater lighter, and a timer fuse as a chaser. They were loaded for bear and loving it.

Although Michael couldn't see Hugo in the dark, he could imagine Hugo's grin.

His friend's favorite saying was, "There are very few of life's problems that can't be solved with high explosives and a big bang! Hoo Yah!"

Ahead, the shadowy bulk of the
Marie Jose.

Hugo is going to get his heart's desire,
Michael thought, mentally grinning at his friend's enthusiasm. This was going to make one helluva nice bang. All they had to do was plant the explosives, detonate them, and get the hell out of Dodge before the bad guys knew what hit them
.

Piece of cake…

Fresh from her shower the next morning, Tally finger-combed her hair and watched Michael and several men hoist the tall mast on the
Nemesis
. Wearing another of Michael's T-shirts, and a ragged pair of orange shorts, she stood on the upstairs lanai and looked out over the marina.

Ye gods. What a night. She ached in places she didn't think had names. She smiled, wondering how Michael felt this morning. She'd eventually had her turn to be the boss of him, and he'd begged for mercy. Twice.

It had taken forever to wash the pearls. Of course she'd been wearing them at the time, and Michael was finicky about cleanliness. Tally held on to the wood railing, almost melting at the blurred memories of last night. She got wet just thinking about it. About him.

She tried to shake off the sensual lethargy. That was then, and this was now.

Unlike her limp self, Michael had seemed tense, on edge, this morning when he'd leaned over to kiss her before leaving. Could it be that he was feeling a little of what she was feeling? Separation anxiety? She smiled wistfully.

Not likely.

She suspected the prolonged stay on Paradise was stretching Michael Wright's limit for being in one place. It was clear he was ready and rarin' to be off on his next adventure.

How long after the last of the repairs to his boat were complete would he stay? An hour? A day?

It was barely nine in the morning. Feasibly, they'd finish securing the mast long before afternoon.

He knew her father was arriving late today. They'd talked about it last night. Michael knew how eager she was for this meeting to go well. He knew the emotional investment she'd made.

Would he stay to be with her? To see how things worked out with her father? Or would he decide it was past time to move on, kiss her good-bye, and wish her luck?

She ran her fingers through her drying hair again, and tried to focus on the more immediate and the mundane.

Her clothes situation was pretty dire. She didn't want to meet her father dressed in a pair of Michael's fluorescent shorts, nor did she plan on wearing island garb for their first meeting in six years.

"If I sewed, which I don't," she told Lucky, who sat in the chair licking himself, "I'd make something elegant out of my drapes, like Scarlett O'Hara." It was a good thing she didn't have to depend on her nonexistent seamstress skills.

Fortunately, she'd remembered that she'd stuffed her shorts and tank top in her tote at the beach. Along with a pair of sandals and a small, emergency makeup pouch of basics. "At least I won't look completely awful."

She'd washed the shorts and top and hung them over the back of the chair to dry.

Anticipation hummed through her. Anticipation for the meeting with her father this afternoon vied with thoughts of last night, and Michael. Neither man gave her enough mental peace to wait passively. She needed action.

Tally paced from one end of the balcony to the other and back again.

Oh, God! She'd done something really, really stupid.

She was afraid she'd fallen in love with her vacation fling.

Not just stupid.
Exceptionally
stupid.

She hadn't asked him to stay once his repairs were done. But if she did… would he?

If she herself wasn't so tense about this upcoming meeting with her father, Tally was sure she would've asked Michael to stay for a few more days. And yet what would she achieve in the long run? Nothing. Eventually he'd be on his way, "seeing what he could see" around the world. With no desire for a home, and no need for a destination.

And eventually she'd go back to Chicago.

Their lovemaking last night had been magical. She'd relished the hours they'd spent in his bed. Making love without restrictions, expectations, or boundaries had been incredible.

But falling in love with the man had been the ultimate folly.

"He's the wind, and I'm the earth." And while he would skim across her surface, he'd never settle. Tally turned to look at Michael's cat. "Pretty poetic, huh?"

Lucky looked at her under his upraised leg, then went back to his ablutions.

She returned to her view of Michael working on his boat. The boat which would take him away from her, and out of her life, within hours.

Her heart ached, and her eyes stung. He'd never made any promises. It was her own foolishness that had gotten her into this emotional mess.

From her vantage point, and from this distance, she couldn't see details, like the sweat gleaming on Michael's brown skin, or the way his muscles moved as he worked, but she could use her imagination.

"What am I doing up here, longing to be with him, when I could at least be down there with him?" she asked the disinterested cat. "Wanna come with me?"

Lucky rose, stretched, and gave her an unblinking green stare.

Tally tried to pick him up, but he flattened his ears and arched his back. "Make up our minds if we're friends or not, Cat. Fine. Follow me if you want to, or don't—"

A glimpse of a shiny blond head on the beach caught Tally's eye, and she turned for a better look. It looked like—no—yes! "Arnaud!"

Without giving it much thought, she shot through her room and raced downstairs.

As she tore through the bar, Auntie gave her a startled look. "What you bei—"

"Going for a run, maybe a swim. Be right back."

"The hottie say you be staying right…"

Her words faded as Tally raced across the shell path and down the small grassy incline to the beach. Arnaud, if it had been Arnaud, and not some sort of reflection of the sun off the rocks, was gone.

"You're losing it, Tallulah." But she kept up a steady loping pace as she ran on the hard-packed sand at the waterline.

Only one person on the island had that pale, bright blond hair. Arnaud. The slimy turd.

By the time she arrived at the rocky outcrop a few miles down the beach, she was out of breath, sweaty, and doubting what she thought she'd seen. She scrambled over the rough
a'a
lava, anyway.

On the other side, a small inlet, a miniature of the larger beach, was surrounded by rough rocks. The tide was coming in, and the beach was just a sliver of pale, exposed sand. Tally scanned the area—

"Oh, shit. Not again!"

In the shadow at the base of the cliffs lay the crumpled form of a man. His back was toward her. He wore the ubiquitous khaki shorts and T-shirt of half the island's inhabitants.

She hesitated, looking around quickly to see if the assailant was laying in wait hiding, for his next victim.

Her.

The cove was quiet. Not another soul around. And there was a possibility that the guy was just sleeping on the beach. Yeah, right, while the incoming tide sucked at his ankles. Not.

Tally ran over and fell to her knees behind the man. "Don't be dead. Don't be dead." She placed her hand on his shoulder covered in a wet, sandy T-shirt and gave him a little shake.

"Wake up, okay? I've had my fill of things that go bump in the night already." The guy half-rolled, and she recognized him immediately. It was Brian, the Australian, from the marina.

He wasn't going to wake up.

He was stone-cold dead.

Chapter Fifteen

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^
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A shadow fell over her as she crouched over Brian's body. "Oh, thank God, I was just c—" Tally turned, expecting to see Michael.

"Arnaud!" She jumped to her feet, heart sinking to her bare toes. She'd followed him to get answers, but now that he was right in front of her, she'd lost her enthusiasm for explanations. What she really wanted was distance. Until she learned differently, Arnaud Bouchard was her number one suspect in the murders of both Lu and Brian.

She stood three feet away from a killer. This was not good. The curve of the island hid the cove from view of the marina and hotel several miles away. As far as Tally knew, the two of them were here alone with nothing more than a dead body between them.