On The Rocks (18 page)

“Oh, shit, Kizzie, I'm sorry.” He hopped up
and padded over, water trailing from his soaked jeans. “I didn't
mean to get your phone wet.”

“Wet's one way of putting it,” she muttered.
She wiped her hands over her face and wrung out the tail ends of
her hair.

Lennox rested a hand on her shoulder and it
took everything in her not to deck him in the nuts. “I'm sorry.” He
smoothed up the side of her neck and hooked her chin. “Really.
Let’s go and I'll get it dry for you.”

She chucked her thumb behind her. “Let me
know when you find it.”

He looked at the water. Back at her. Back to
the water again. A lifeless chuckle. “Jesus… I just can't do right
by you, can I?” Head shaking, his eyes shifted over her face, the
remorse in them clear. “I really am sorry.”

For some reason, that sounded like it
covered more than just the phone.

Kizzie shook his hand off and leveled her
gaze on his. “Recon. Strategize. Execute. Let's keep it at that,
okay?”

She spun on her heel and went to the railing
where the optical bug was mounted. The horseplay had definitely
shifted the boat, so the bug might be misaligned. Sure enough, it
had a ten degree deviation, pointing toward the far corner of the
room instead of being center mass.

“It's my mess. I'll handle it,” Lennox said,
deep voice low and even. His glasses were back in place, and his
energy had shifted from frat-boy funny to CIA-serious.

Kizzie got as far from him as possible on a
forty-foot boat. Her throat burned from swallowing curses, and
pressure mounted behind her eyes. Each breath was rushed and
ragged, and far too loud in her ears.

Head bowed, she gripped the meat of her
shoulders and squeezed, working hard to slow her breathing and
stave off the tension building in her neck. It wasn't enough. A
wave of sorrow she couldn't explain crashed down on her and she let
out a breath through her mouth.

Clearly the universe thought she and Xander
were a bad idea. They had so many things to overcome already
—occupations, distance… a marriage— maybe this was a not so subtle
'leave it alone.'

She chuckled quietly. In all her time as an
agent, as many fights and dust ups as she'd been in, not once did
she shed a tear over the physical aches. She'd had her belly sliced
open and nope. No waterworks. But the pain of not having Xander for
her Dom really made her want to cry.

She couldn't deal with that now, though. She
had a mission to complete. Had to get her head out of her ass and
get back in the game.

Dammit, Kizzie, you're an agent not a
submissive.

Sad day when she couldn't even laugh at her
own Star Trek jokes…

Shoving her emotions down, Kizzie went back
over to their gear. Lennox was hunched over the optical bug,
recalibrating it. A job designed for one but easier with two.

“I'm s—”

“It's just a phone,” she said,
shrugging.

He eyed her behind his shades, and she
caught her reflection in the mirrored surface. Agent Baldwin was
back, her face a mask of indifference. On the outside, she looked
like it really was just a phone.

But inside, she felt like the thin
connection to Xander had just… snapped.

TIME.

THE WAY Xander saw it, once he drilled down
to the heart of the many problems that plagued their relationship,
everything could be solved with time.

Enough time together would build the trust
he and Kizzie needed for a D/s commitment. To get into a rhythm,
learn each other's wants and expectations. To overcome the distance
caused by their jobs. Enough time and maybe he could convince her
to leave the CIA altogether and come work with him.

Time was the key, so now he just had to
figure out how to steal it. That's how it had worked with
Martina.

Whoa.

Xander held his breath, waiting for the
anger to come. He stepped away from the rail. Skirting the bed, he
paced the top deck of his new yacht.

Every now and again, his thoughts would turn
to his last sub, but it was always in the abstract. He never said
her name, didn't think it, either, as though not repeating it in
any form would ease the pain. And hearing it echo in his head now,
the anger and pain were still there.

After years flying solo in the lifestyle,
Martina had been his first —and last— monogamous D/s relationship.
He’d traveled even more back then, jumping from country to country
on a moment's notice while expanding his business, but he always
stole time away from work for his sub.

In the beginning, two weeks wouldn't pass
without him seeing her, touching her. It had taken a lot of
patience and a lot of planning, but the time he put into their
relationship was exactly why it worked so well for so long. Except
when business began pulling him away for longer stretches
—sometimes a month, sometimes more— and contact diminished, so did
the strong bond he'd so carefully cultivated.

And in the end, he'd still lost her.

He shifted his shoulders, the bones in the
left girdle crunching as they slipped past each other.

Martina was his for over two years and time
still hadn't kept them together.

Or kept her alive.

Maybe time wouldn't solve everything after
all.

Still, it was a start.

Back at the rail, Xander braced his forearms
on the black barrier and cradled his phone in his grip. The urge to
call Kizzie was just as strong now as the second they'd parted.
Stronger. Their relationship was in its infancy, and like all new
things it needed nurturing.

Not to mention a call would give them both
some much needed relief. His “don't touch” rule wasn't just for her
—he wouldn't put his sub through something he wouldn't do himself—
and it was obvious how bad an idea that was.

Painfully
.

One call could solve all that. And as all
the wicked things he could make her do over the phone sprinted
through his mind, a grin split his face.

The smile fell just as quickly.

She’d gone back to Connolly, so chances were
high she was on a mission in some godforsaken country doing who
knew what for her asshole handler in the name of liberty. In fact,
he didn’t like the idea of someone else “handling” her at all…

Xander dragged himself out of that spiral
and came back to his original thought.
If
Kizzie was on a
mission, the buzzing of that phone he’d given her could potentially
expose her to an enemy, and that could be deadly.

Shit.

He couldn't call. Between blue balls and
risking her life, he happily chose the former. Well, maybe not
happily,
but still the choice.

However, note to self: in the future, the
“no touching” rule wouldn’t be in effect when they had to be
apart.

Xander dropped his chin to his chest on a
loud exhale. Squeezing his lids shut, he saw Kizzie's big browns in
his mind’s eye. Per usual, they were caught somewhere on the
spectrum between murderous and laughing and those pillow-soft lips
were tipped up in a smirk.

The image in his head shifted. Now she had
one brow cocked, and her lip curled up like it did whenever she got
the bad idea to call him slick.

Even her disobedience was sexy.

Another shift— eyes now hazy, mouth relaxed
and parted as he took her close to the edge.

“Dammit…” he muttered. Abs tight, he locked
his jaw down hard.

He’d never wanted something —some
one
—
so much in his life.

A hand smoothed across his lower back and he
jerked. Naima stood beside him, and he hooked his arm over his
wife’s shoulders, tugging her closer.

“You’re brooding,” she said.

“I’m not brooding. I don't ‘brood’.”

“Well, you’ve spent the first day of our
long-overdue honeymoon keeping the upper deck company. What would
you call it, luv?”

“Thinking.” Thankful for the distraction, he
motioned toward the fishing boats not far away. “And smiling for
the cameras.”

Naima looked out to sea, pulled away.
“Pants, you're just thinking.”

“Are we back on pants?”

“Actually…” She tugged at the tie of her
silk robe and the rich, blue material parted on a whisper. “All
pants are off.”

Hands planted against his abs, she shoved
him back and Xander stumbled down onto the bed. “Let's give 'em a
show, shall we?”

“Wait, Nai, bad idea—”

Too late.

She was already climbing on top of him and
short of tossing her off there would be no escaping the—

She gasped.

Yup. That.

Her wide-eyed gaze flashed to his and her
hips lifted.

“See?”

“See… feel…” Her mouth thinned into a firm
line as she struggled to keep it together. She really gave it a
good try, too, but then her lips trembled and her face dissolved
and she threw her head back, laughing. “Glad to know I still have
that effect on the lucky bloke I married.”

Xander eyed her evenly. “That’s not for
you.”

Naima poked her lip out, shifted forward so
her ass rested on his belly. Not exactly off of him, or helping
matters, but better than the alternative. Her hands coasted up his
bare chest as she stretched her short torso over his much longer
one. Forearms on his pecs, she rested her chin on top of her
crossed arms, a devious grin on her face.

“Thinkin’ of this other cow, are you? While
your wife has you mounted?”

“I swear to god, I curse the day I met
you.”

Her mouth popped open in mock offense. Eyes
narrowed, she wiggled her hips from side to side.

Xander gripped her firmly at the waist.
“Stop that, you evil woman.”

“Be nice to me.”

“Me? You’re the one bouncing around up
there. You tryin’ to get me killed?”

“Maybe.” She wiggled her fingers, diamond
ring glinting in the light. “Cash in on the insurance policy and
reap the benefits of this marriage a wee bit earlier than is
otherwise appropriate.

“Soooo,” she dragged, her voice way too
happy, “when do I get to meet the woman who makes lit’le X stand
taller than the Queen’s guard?”

“Never.”

“Jealous sort, is she? Does she know she’s
got to share you? I’d hate to have to kick her arse.”

Xander let out a tired sigh and Nai pursed
her lips. “What? I thought married couples were s’posed to talk
about these things. Even couples with relationships as mental as
ours.”

“We can talk about things.” Grunting, Xander
shifted so she was a little higher up on his belly and farther from
his cock. “Favorite colors… middle names… favorite mo—”

Naima’s head popped up. “What
is
your
middle name?”

“Guess.”

“Mortimer.”

“Got it on the first try.”

She poked his chest and went back to
pouting. “I just don’t understand why you won’t tell me about her.
If it’s serious —which it has to be since you’re all hot n’
bothered just thinkin’ uv’a— I’m gonna have to meet her properly at
some point. Threaten to rip her heart out if she hurts you, as is
my wifely duty.”

Footsteps sounded on the staircase nearby,
and Xander had never been so happy to have his brother walk in on
him while he was with a woman. He twisted his head in the direction
of the noise.

“What’d I miss?” Phil’s disembodied voice
asked. He didn’t come onto the deck but folded himself onto the top
steps, brown hair barely visible in the hole.

“Xan’s got a stiffy,” Naima announced
proudly, like he’d earned an A on a spelling test.

Phil's head popped up like a mole from the
ground, brows lifted high over the top edges of his sunglasses.
“Feeling suicidal?”

“Apparently,” Xander muttered.

Nai leaned all the way forward, her breasts
mashing Xander’s chest, her mouth near his ear. “But it ain’t for
me, is it? It’s for the jealous hussy he won’t let me meet.”

Phil snickered, and Naima rocked back so she
sat upright, hands trailing down Xander’s abs again. All this
motion bordered on too much and he really needed her to get
off.

Before he did.

She set her hands on her hips, spreading the
silk robe and revealing the black bikini she was rocking
underneath. Over five months along, her belly was still just a
little hump. According to her doc, she had a proportionally longer
torso. Made hiding her pregnancy a lot easier. Small favors,
right?

“You’ve met her, haven’t you, Phil?” she
said, her tone accusatory. “Of course you have. You blokes are
thick as thieves. Tell me something. Who’ve you got in a fight? Me
or the tart?”

“Jesus… She’s not a tart. Or a cow. Or a
hussy. And unless Phil wants me to accidentally divulge the
location of the woman he’s—”

Naima gasped and rocked back.

Way,
way
too close to “lit’le X.” He
grabbed her and dragged her forward again.

Christ, this was gonna kill him.

“Phil!” Eyes bulging, mouth wide, her head
snapped toward the stairs. “Finally got yourself a woman, eh? Gonna
set’le down, give me some nieces and nephews then?”

Phil cuckooed out of his hiding spot again.
No way to see his eyes behind the shades he wore, but he
undoubtedly had his usual poker face firmly in place. “No. So,
no.”

“Liar,” Naima said.

Phil shrugged. “Who you gonna believe? Me,
or the man trying a little too hard to direct your attention away
from his… ‘stiffy’?”

Naima snapped her fingers and pointed at
Phil. “Got a point there.”

“Xander's got a point, too,” Phil joked.

Naima’s tinkling laugh bubbled out of her
throat. “A rather
hard
point to get across, too, Phil.”

That started a new round of laughs, and
Xander let out a loud sigh. Some days, he really, really hated
Phil…

“You two should huddle up and take this act
on the road. Think we can focus on something other than my anatomy,
people? How many do you see?”