Vortex (Cutter Cay) (27 page)

Dog, still wearing his vest and harness, barked, happy to see them, then clambered up on the diving platform via a ramp, where he waited as they climbed on board. Just as they neared, he shook violently, spraying them with Dog water.

Daniela smiled, and bent to rub his ears. “You love the water, don’t you, Flipper?”

“Haven’t hit on just the right name yet?” Logan asked, handing the tanks to Cooper for a rinse off before taking them to get refilled. Dog lay down, his nose over the edge of the platform as if eager to go swimming again.

Logan scraped his dripping wet hair off his face, exposing the starkly masculine lines and angles of his face, the dark stubble on his strong jaw, the blade of his nose. He unzipped the front of his suit, then tugged it over his shoulders and peeled it off his chest and arms to hang around his waist.

No fair, Daniela thought as her eyes feasted on the present he’d just unwrapped for her. Excitement pulsed in the pit of her stomach, tightening every muscle in her body. His bronzed skin gleamed in the fractured sunlight shining through the rain. His stark male beauty made her breath snag in her throat.

She loved the clearly defined muscles of his shoulders and arms, the hard six-pack that made his skin look like tightly stretched bronze satin. His flat brown nipples were tight, and she didn’t think it was from the cold air.

Droplets of water sparkled like diamonds in the dark hair on his chest, then converged, suspended for a moment before gathering to trickle lazily down his rock-hard abs, to pool briefly in the shadowy indentation of his navel, then trail across his flat belly and follow the narrow path of dark hair to disappear beneath the folded-down suit.

She reminded herself to breathe as he stalked toward her, lifting her eyes to his as he got closer. She could tell by the glint there that he knew exactly what she was thinking. “Need help with that?” he murmured, his voice soft, but raised just above the sound of the waves slapping against the platform at their feet.

She frowned. “With what?”

“Getting the wet suit off; it can be tricky.”

“Sure.” Wet suit or body armor, nothing would protect her from his heated gaze. He reached between her breasts and tugged down the zipper. A wash of cool air hit her damp skin. She shivered. But it wasn’t the cold that made her skin pebble, and turned her nipples painfully hard.

The deliberate brush of his fingers sent a delicious shiver through her. He helped her remove the mask from where she’d shoved it on top of her head, turned to place it neatly in the plastic tub of fresh rinse water. He then slid his warm hands against her cool skin inside her suit to peel it off her shoulders. Every touch sent an erotic message down her nerve endings. Her body was having a party, as everything came alive and surged with heat.

“I still have—”

He peeled her suit down just below her breasts, then carefully readjusted the top of her bikini to cover her, blocking her body from view from above. She gave the crown of his dark head a speaking look, which he missed completely, because he was looking down and gliding his cupped hand inside the flimsy red fabric almost covering her breast, shifting not the fabric, but the weight of her breast.

“Plenty more to try out,” she added, getting breathless. “Fluffy’s going to love one of them.”

“Or just be happy to be called to dinner,” Logan teased, running his thumb over her distended nipple. “And you are not calling any dog of mine Fluffy.”

Daniela’s feet were planted firmly on the deck, but her upper body swayed toward him as if drawn by a powerful magnet. Her nipples peaked and a different moisture pooled between her legs. She wanted him to touch her, but he stayed where he was, a couple feet of rain-washed deck between them. She wanted him. Now.

“Ho—how about Killer?”

Logan finished adjusting her top, then dropped his hand, shifting away a few inches, locking his eyes with hers.

She licked her dry lips, tasting salty seawater, and saw his eyes flare as they tracked the movement. “Rocky?”

His eyes, dark with knowledge, met hers as he hooked his thumbs into his wet suit and slowly peeled it the rest of the way, the backs of his hands brushing hers as he tugged it down his strongly muscled legs, hairy, and shiny with moisture, over his feet. “Ready for a hot shower?”

“Would you mind helping me get this off? It seems to be stuck r-i-gh-t here.” She pointed to her hip.

Eyes level with the hard throbbing pulse at the base of his throat, she was surprised that the rain spattering their bodies and trickling down their faces and hair wasn’t turning to steam. She pressed her open hand over his heart, feeling the hard thump-thump-thump that matched the timpani of her own.

“Tricky suckers to get off. Takes practice. No time to get it off now.” He grabbed her hand and started tugging her toward the ladder. “We have to hurry.”

“Why? Does someone else want to wear i—” She let out a little scream of surprise as he put his hand under her butt and boosted her halfway up the ladder. “Okay. Okay. I’m moving.”

Daniela didn’t doubt for a moment that he’d catch her if she tumbled backward, but she curled her fingers around the rail and hauled herself up on deck in record time, even hampered by the wet suit dangling around her hips.

She wasn’t steady on her feet yet, when Logan grabbed her about the waist and hustled her inside. Through the common room, up two flights of stairs, he pulled her along as if there were a three-alarm fire. Her heart beat so fast she couldn’t hear their wet feet slapping against the teak floors. “Logan, slow down—what on eart—”

Her back thumped against a closed door, as he pressed her hips between his erection and the wood at her back. His fingers speared into her hair, the small pain turning her on even more. He shoved the bikini bra up, his large hands urgent on her sensitized skin. Her breasts were cupped in warm, hard male hands that knew what they were doing.

“Ahh,” she sighed as he kissed her ravenously.

His fingers gripped her ass, pulling her up onto her toes so his hardness fit perfectly. She fought to get a hand between their bodies to fumble with the waistband of his trunks. Wrong angle; his body was too close. She whimpered and tried to tug them down, wanting the prize hidden behind the thin fabric.

“Everyone knows what we ran up here to do.” She bit his chin, then lifted her face. Sweat and rain dewed her skin, and it felt as though she was on fire from the inside out. Her skin burned. Her entire body vibrated. She needed to feel his hard hot length buried inside her to the hilt. She had to have his mouth, his hands, his—anything, everything, on her naked breasts.
Now. Now. Now.

“Don’t give a damn.” Logan’s mouth crushed down on hers again, his tongue a hot spear. She met it with her own, a duel that both won. He shifted to change the angle of her head, and she wound one leg around his, to get closer contact. A small, reptilian part of her brain, the part used for self-preservation, reminded her that they were standing in the hallway outside his cabin and she was still half in and half out of a wet suit. Any minute some security guy or a crew member was going to get an eyeful of her bare breasts, as Logan had somehow managed to maintain his hold, kiss her,
and
yank her bikini top off. Devilishly clever man, Logan Cutter.

The euphoria she’d felt under the water increased tenfold with Logan’s touch, coursing through her body, making her feel invincible. She used the wall at her back for leverage and practically climbed his body, her legs spread around his narrow waist. Winding her arms around his neck, she pressed her aching breasts hard against his chest. The bulk of the half-on, half-off wet suit clumped around her waist. “Clothes! Off. Now!”

The hand in her hair left and she heard a vaguely familiar ding right before the door opened behind her, causing them to practically fall into the room. Still kissing her, he walked her inside, then kicked the door closed, shutting them into the cool dimness.

He crowded her until her back slammed against the wall just inside the door. Daniela slid down his body, both hands going to his shorts, dragging the fabric down his legs. She pressed her way back up his body, kissing everything in her path until she got back to his lips. She kissed him with everything she had, using one bare foot to push his shorts the rest of the way to the floor.

His hands skimmed the wet suit farther down her hips, then went to the ties at her hips. “Too damn slow!” she urged, trying to strip her wet suit off while one hand was in his hair, and her mouth was making love to his. Between them, they seemed to have too many limbs as they tangled and clashed, each trying to perform the same tasks. A giggle burst up through her chest, and she had to tear her mouth from under his to laugh and breathe at the same time.

“Five hundred men know exactly what we’re doing in here right now,” she told him breathlessly as he walked her backward toward the bed.

“And every one of them is jealous.” He scooped her up in his arms. Laughing, Daniela wrapped her arms around his neck for the short trek across the cabin. The wet suit hung off one ankle, and her bikini bottom was undone only on one side. Her laughter died away. On fire for him, she pulled his head down and gave him a full-on French kiss guaranteed to blow his mind.

It was like a boomerang as a bonfire of lust and need burst through her. She was barely aware of being dropped onto the mattress, and then Logan was there between her spread thighs. She pulled his head down to kiss him. His hand closed around her breast.

Heat licked her skin, and desire liquefied her insides. She was on fire for him.

His tongue pushed into her mouth, and she met it with her own, welcoming, hungry for more.

Even as his mouth came down on hers, he was caressing her breast. He pushed his knee high up against the juncture of her thighs and she whimpered with need.

His mouth silenced her as he crushed his lips on hers. His tongue swept into her mouth, hot and slick, greedy. Fingers raking through his hair, Daniela kissed him back. He tasted of coffee, he tasted of lust. He tasted of desire.

His large hands slid around her hips to cup her ass, pulling her tightly against him. He was hard, and long, and her body jerked in response.

As she framed his face with her hands, they devoured each other. She felt the rough tug as the damp fabric of her bikini bottom was slowly threaded from between her legs.

His hand skimmed down her body, savoring the silky texture of her skin, shaping his hand to the curves and indentations that flowed from one to the other, the swell of her breasts to the flat of her stomach, the flare of her hips, the notch between her legs.

She moaned softly, rubbing her nose back and forth in his chest hair. He nudged her face up, taking her mouth like a pirate plundering a treasure ship. No holds barred. Winner takes all.

Logan flexed his hips and surged inside her. Arching her back, she gave a soundless cry. His arms bracketed her shoulders, his biceps and triceps bulging as he hammered his hips in a pounding rhythm that had her heartbeat manic, and her head thrashing on the pillow. Her hips came up in counterpoint to meet his every thrust.

But it was more than heat, more than raw lust between them, making her heart rage. Every touch of his hands, every press of him against her made her feel treasured beyond words. Made her feel safe. And no man had given her that gift before.

If this is what Logan meant by diving, she’d gladly dive every morning, noon, and night to be in his arms.

Fifteen

Two nights later, Logan untangled his body from Daniela’s, missing her warmth as he left the bed. After making love, he’d insisted she dress. She had donned shorts and a tank top, and fallen face-first back onto the sex-rumpled sheets. Asleep before her head hit the pillow.

His body was well satiated, but his mind buzzed with details. How to keep her safe, how to protect the treasure as well as his crew.

With Wes awake and on guard in Daniela’s cabin next door to his, a man on the balcony outside, and two men posted outside his door, Logan had stolen half an hour to himself while Daniela pretended to sleep. Maybe without him there to distract her, that would become a reality. She was strung tighter than a bow.

He locked the door behind him, jogged to the top deck for midnight tai chi. The moon hung high in the sky, surrounded by twinkling stars. The sound of the waves slapping against the hull was more comforting than the dozens of strangers occupying his boat, but even the waves held an angry undercurrent.

Slower breaths calmed his racing mind as he performed the tai chi forms by rote, concentrating on the steady beat of his heart and feeling the stretch of his muscles as he moved. The teak deck beneath his bare feet retained a hint of the sun’s warmth, physically grounding him so he could sort out his chaotic thoughts. It had been forty-eight hours since the counterterrorists had arrived. Forty-eight hours since his world was turned upside down, and yet the moon still shone, the ocean gently rocked his ship, the men slept and ate and dove as if nothing had actually changed at all.

It went against the grain to unearth the treasure he’d been anticipating, and then leave it where it was, a hundred and fifty feet under the ocean. But with the next days or weeks of uncertainty, he didn’t want to add a boatload of a haul, valued in multimillions of dollars, into the mix of potential craziness. It was safer where it had been for four hundred years. Things were complicated enough without having the treasure on board.

He agreed with Wright’s strategy. Bringing the senator’s people on board rather than going after them would confine them, making corralling and neutralizing them easier. Yeah. He got that intellectually. But he’d much rather go to where the bastards were holed up and take them out. Now. At least that way he’d have a say in the when and the where.

If Stamps’s men were thwarted, the senator would get desperate enough to launch a more personal offensive.

Now it was a waiting game.

Logan didn’t like waiting. But he was damned good at it. He’d had enough practice over the years. Waiting for his father to come home. Waiting for his brothers to grow up. Waiting for a woman like Daniela who tilted his well-ordered world sideways.