Under the Covers (11 page)

She let herself into Drew's cabin, now her cabin too, with the key he'd sent to the Security Office earlier in the day. Before he disappeared.

Not that she'd been looking for him.

As promised, all her things had been moved from the sardine can she'd called home for the last few months. Someone, housekeeping she presumed, had closed the drapes. Bree let the light in, tossed the small bag she'd brought with her onto the bed, and stepped onto what passed for a balcony. Two chairs and a table that would hold two drinks and nothing more occupied the space, leaving barely enough room for two people to stand at the rail. But it was paradise compared to where she'd been living. The private beach in the distance was dotted with tanned bodies and a few flashes of white where the more modest passengers, the ones wearing the swimsuits provided, sunbathed. A loaded tender approached the loading dock on Atlantis deck with a crop of passengers returning from their shore day.

Bree inhaled the scent of freedom, then went back inside. She'd promised Drew she would bring the handcuffs. The pair she'd picked up from the gift shop glinted in the light from the open balcony as they slid from the bag to the opulent comforter. Even the bedding was a step up from what she was used to. Bree ran her hand over the gold satin, trimmed with a Greek motif embroidered with cream thread. It was tempting to drop her sarong and let the cool fabric slide over her skin, but before she did that, she needed a shower. She lifted the stack of pillows on what she'd decided would be her side of the bed and slid the handcuffs underneath. She couldn't wait to see Drew's expression when he realized she meant to use them on him, rather than the other way around.

God, even the shower was better.

Bree turned her face into the spray and let the hot water carry away every thought, every worry. She squeezed a glob of her new lemon-scented body wash on her loofah and worked it into a lather against her skin. Bliss. Tension sluiced away with the foamy water and swirled down the floor drain. The only thing better would be a bubble bath with candles. Lots of candles, and chocolate. Tonight was the Midnight Chocolate Buffet. Loads and loads of chocolate perfection. She hadn't missed one since arriving onboard. Once a week, every week, the pastry chefs put out enough chocolate to put a woman in a coma, not to mention the elaborate erotic chocolate-coated human tableaus. There wasn't a female alive who would pass that up, unless she had her own erotic human to coat in chocolate. A smile curved her lips and her nipples puckered just thinking about her plans for Drew this evening.

He tasted like heaven. She'd found that out when she bit him on the shoulder. That little taste had only whetted her appetite for him, and tonight she'd taste him all she wanted. And she wanted. Oh, how she wanted.

Need pulsed hot and heavy through her veins. She cupped her breasts in her palms and flicked her thumbs over her aching nipples. Maybe she'd let Drew suck them tonight. How fun would it be to brush her nipples against his face, to tease him until he begged for a taste of her? She could hover just beyond his reach, which wouldn't be far given the way she planned to restrain him. Then she could do the same thing with her pussy. Would he beg for what she withheld? She could almost hear him now, his deep, sexy voice pleading in that slow southern drawl. "Please, darlin'. I want you. I need you. Bring your sweet pussy down here and let me taste you."

Her knees went weak and the wet between her legs had little to do with the shower. She groaned and leaned her forehead against the cold tile, letting the hot water beat against her nape and waterfall down her back. She snapped out of her lust-induced lethargy when an arm snaked around her waist from behind. Reacting on instinct and years of self-defense training, she responded to the threat. She went limp, became a dead weight against the arm imprisoning her, and in the same instant she channeled all her energy into her right arm. Her elbow connected with a solid thunk, and her attacker fell back.

Adrenaline shot through her as she spun to face the intruder, ready to do anything in order to survive. It took a second for the muttered curses to register, and less than that for her to recognize the man doubled over, one hand supporting him on the counter behind his naked ass, the other rubbing his ribcage where her elbow had connected.

"God damn, woman! What did you do that for?"

Suddenly self-conscious, she shut off the water and grabbed for a towel. Drew. "I'm, uhm…." She searched for the right word. "Sorry?" It would have to do. She wrapped the towel around her and stepped out of the shower. "You shouldn't sneak up on a woman like that! Did I hurt you?"

His face contorted in pain as he straightened to his full height.

"Yes, you did. Are you happy now? I'm going to have a hell of a bruise in a few minutes."

Bree swept her wet hair away from her face and reminded herself whose fault this was. "Well." She huffed out a breath. "I'm not sorry. Not really. What the hell did you think you were doing? I could have killed you!"

Drew reached for her, and in less time than it took to blink, he'd discarded her terry cloth armor and pulled her hard against him. "I doubt that, but it would be nice to see you try." His tongue captured a drop of water trailing down her neck. "Want to give it a try, darlin'?" He swept her hair from her left shoulder to her back and repeated the tongue maneuver on that side. "Umm. You taste good. Like a muffin right out of the oven, all hot and moist."

Shit. Every nasty thing she'd ever thought about him flew right out of her head, replaced by thoughts of
doing
nasty things
with
him. What kind of defense could a woman have against being compared to baked goods? None, especially when every thought in her head involved this man and chocolate, or rather this man covered in chocolate.

"I could eat you right up," he purred as his lips and tongue emphasized his desire to do just that. One hand at the small of her back held her steady while the other found the heat between her legs. He parted her swollen folds with deft fingers, and like a heat-seeking missile, his middle finger went straight for her most vulnerable spot. "Ah, yes. I should have known your muffin would come with its own honey."

Her knees gave out then. Drew took her weight easily, supporting her entirely with the one hand on her back. Her head lolled as if her neck were made of rubber.

She arched over his hand, thrusting her pebbled nipples toward his mouth, silently willing him to shut up and taste her. Talented fingers coaxed honey from her secret stash as his mouth worked its way south. "Sweet. Tart. Have I ever told you how much I love lemon cake?"

His fingers delved deep, once, twice, then left her honey pot to spread the sticky confection on one nipple. She was limp as a ragdoll, lost in the way he made her feel, hot, sexy and feminine. She didn't need sight to know her nipple and puckered areola glistened with her juices, and that Drew couldn't take his eyes off his creation. "I've got to taste you. Christ, you're manna to a starving man."

Thank God
. She was going to die if she had to wait a minute longer.

His lips captured her breast, devoured it, devoured her. Masculine sounds of satisfaction vibrated from his gut to her breast. Her hands, limp at her side, came up to bracket his face, to hold him to her so he'd never stop what he was doing. His teeth grazed, then bit her nipple and she cried out, her voice echoing in the small, tiled room. Despite her grip, he pulled away.

"Now, the other one." Hot fingers swept into her again and came back to coat her other nipple with heated nectar. His tongue swept over the crested peak, sending a lightning bolt straight to her core. Honey flowed hot between her legs as he pulled her nipple into his mouth, consuming her will and igniting a firestorm of lust.

She dragged her head up and caught her reflection in the mirror above Drew's hunched shoulders. Wild. Drugged with need and lust. She clung to Drew, fusing him to her breast, but it wasn't enough. She had to touch him. She had to have him. Now. Inside her.

She reached between them and found him hard, hot and ready. "Please," she begged as she closed her fist around his already sheathed cock. He'd come prepared to take her in the shower!

Without breaking contact with her breast, his hands cupped her ass and lifted her feet off the floor. Cold tile pressed against her back and she wrapped her legs around Drew's waist, positioning him at her entrance. He lowered her and flexed his hips at the same time, driving his cock balls deep with one smooth, powerful stroke.

"Got to have you. All of you." He'd finally released her breast to focus on fucking her. Bree couldn't have been happier. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pressed her mouth to his neck.

He tasted salty and his scent, a combination of sunshine, sweat and man, drove into her as relentlessly as his cock. His hands flexed on her ass, controlling her body, positioning her to take all of him. Every upward thrust brought him deeper, it seemed, and a step closer to breaching every barrier she'd put up to protect her heart. None of that mattered right then. All that mattered was her primitive need to give herself to this man and an equal need to possess him in every way possible. She clawed at his shoulders, dug her heels into the small of his back, and when her body began to spiral upward and out of control, she sank her teeth into his neck and held on to the solid anchor his body provided.

****

Drew rubbed the new bite mark on his neck. Hell and damnation. If wanting Bree didn't kill him, having her probably would.

God-damned vampire. That's what she was. Maybe she wasn't sucking his blood, but she was sucking his sanity right out through his little brain.

He'd meant to have some slow, soapy, slippery shower sex. Instead, he had bruised ribs, claw marks on his shoulders and dental impressions on his neck. Nothing short of a turtleneck would cover the damage, and there wasn't one of those within a thousand miles. He craned his neck to see the scratches on his back in the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. He'd need to tend those soon. As soon as Bree got out of the shower, he'd take his turn. The scratches weren't too deep, so a little soap and hot water ought to do the trick.

She emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel and still looking like she'd been thoroughly fucked. She'd towel dried her hair and pulled it into a high ponytail. Red marks on her chest and the sides of her neck indicated a recent brush with his five o'clock shadow. He knew her nipples would be red from his attentions. He hadn't been gentle with her, and for once, that didn't bother him in the least. He brushed past her, and as he turned to pull the door closed, caught a glimpse of her ass as she bent to pick a pair of panties from the drawer. There, in Technicolor, were perfect impressions of his fingers where he'd grabbed those soft globes and held her for the fucking she'd deserved.

He smiled to himself as he closed the door. He should feel guilty about marking her, but he couldn't find a trace of that emotion in regards to what he'd done. In fact, he liked seeing his marks on her, knowing he'd put them there in the throes of passion. He'd never raised his hand against a woman, and he never would. But leaving his mark on her so she'd see it and remember he'd done that to her and that he'd marked her as his? Well, that damn well turned him on.

 Drew cranked the water on and stepped under the cold spray. For once, she'd gotten as much as she'd given. It damned sure wasn't going to be the last time, either. He had plans for Bree Stanton. If he had his way about it, she'd wear his mark for the rest of her life.

How he was going to convince her of that was something he hadn't worked out. Yet.

****

Triton was one of the most exclusive restaurants on the ship, and its décor reflected its status. If the sea god had a lair, Bree imagined this is what it would look like. Colorful fish swimming in the floor-to-ceiling aquariums comprised three walls, creating the illusion of being underwater. A film of water cascaded down the fourth wall, a sheet of glass that looked out onto the mortal world. Her feet sank in the sand-colored carpet as the Maitre d' led them to a table, partially secluded by shimmering kelp that rose from the floor and swayed with imaginary ocean waves.

She'd been expecting dinner in Zeus's Temple, the main dining room, but this would more than do. Triton's chef was said to be one of the best in the world, lured to the
Lothario
by a generous salary and the promise of abundant women in his free time.

Bree took a moment to appreciate the opulent surroundings. She was glad she'd chosen to wear the satin evening sarong, even if it did cover less than the cotton daytime versions. The table was set with delicate china and crystal. The gold flatware shone bright against the blue watered-silk tablecloth. Music hummed in the background, just loud enough to keep conversations discreet without diners having to shout over it. Bree imagined even a sea-hag would look stunning in the subtle lighting. A waiter in a full tuxedo handed her a menu, then melted into the shadows without a sound.