“It took me right back there. Back to that morning.”
West’s gut hollowed, then filled with cold, hard stones. Piper’s dad treated him like a second son, but he would’ve given West a solid ass-kicking for putting his girl through a nightmare—again. “I wish I’d been there for you—wish I’d been there instead of you.”
How many times after seeing Piper that day, wrapped in a blanket on Old Smitty’s boat, fighting to escape the men who’d half carried her onto the wharf, had he thought that? He’d never forget her soul-wrenching cries, begging to return to the inlet to keep searching for her father.
But it wasn’t until over a year later when he’d accompanied the Harland family to the formal coronial inquest that he heard the details of his mentor’s death. Piper delivered her verbal evidence in a wooden tone, never acknowledging his presence at the back of the courtroom. Not that he blamed her for hating him, because he’d hated himself for allowing the sight of her, so damn lovely even in her starched cop uniform, to affect him.
“But you weren’t there and because of the way things ended—” she paused, pressing her lips together, “—I couldn’t ask my best friend to come out that morning, since my brother wasn’t around.”
West shut his eyes and her words stabbed at him, tiny needles piercing his heart.
“I stayed home the night before. I didn’t go out with Ben and the guys—” he said.
She went rigid beneath him, her whole body stiffening to ironing-board straight. Looked like it was news to her.
“—but I understand why you didn’t call me, because I didn’t deserve to be your best friend.” He opened his eyes to find she’d closed hers.
Her chin dipped a fraction in acknowledgement, before she turned her head to the side again.
“Get off me,” she whispered. “Please.”
West eased up and rolled aside. Piper scuttled backward and used the bench to haul herself to her feet.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
She stumbled to the door and the look she sent back over her shoulder hollowed him out. He’d failed as her lover, but what killed him was failing as her friend.
***
“Oh-god-oh-god-yeahlikethat-oh.”
Piper lay like a tomb effigy on her bed and pretended the couple in the next cabin weren’t going at it like proverbial bunny rabbits. Make that a tomb effigy with a pillow clamped over her face.
She heaved out another long-suffering sigh. God, they really were two enthusiastic love birds. But somehow she and West got through the rest of the day without snarling at each other in front of them.
Now everyone had retired to their cabins and the night settled to stillness. Still except for the slosh of waves against the hull, the odd rasping call from nocturnal kiwi digging for sandhoppers on Kahurangi Bay beach, and the sexual Olympics next door.
She’d insisted on West taking the double stateroom earlier, rather than have him curled like a prawn on the single bunk. Super illustration of the cost of being a soft touch, because on other side of The Mollymawk West drifted into blissful slumber while her lullaby—Oh-God-oh-God-oh-God—made her want to puncture her ear drums. Or take a cold shower. Or a swim.
Piper sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bunk. Swim it would be. Maybe the shock of cold water would clear her mushy brain. Ever since West blacked out on his dive she’d vacillated between the urge to kill him and bang his brains out—because she was so fucking grateful he didn’t die.
And the shock of West not being with Ben and the guys the morning her father drowned? She always assumed he’d been out partying—since his heart wasn’t broken into teeny-tiny pieces. He’d flipped her assumptions on their head with that little grenade of information. Not that it changed anything.
Piper stripped out of her pajamas and pulled on a swimsuit. So—quick swim, a run along the beach, and back to the boat for chamomile tea. By that stage the honeymooners should be sexually satisfied and fast asleep.
Piper crept into the galley and eased through the door onto the deck. A crescent moon hung suspended overhead, surrounded by the diamond-pierced velvet of the night sky. No big city lights to fade the stars into oblivion, no rumble of traffic to dilute the peace of waves meeting the sand. Just a gentle breeze scented with brine and the shifting of the hull under her bare feet.
She sucked in a deep breath, stilled when her night vision kicked in. A dark silhouette tucked into a corner drank from a bottle.
“Couldn’t sleep?” West said.
The huskiness of his voice licked sudden warmth under the small, but modest, barrier of her swimsuit. “Looks that way.”
A low chuckle in the darkness. “Honeymooners?”
“Yep.”
Easier than confessing the honeymooners were but a fraction of the reason for her restlessness. Add to the mix a dollop of sexual frustration, stir in a combination of guilt and anger, season it with her rapidly diminishing days on the island, and you had a big bowl of Piper-on-the-edge. “I’m going to take a swim.”
West placed the bottle on the table beside him and stood, the glimmer of moonlight illuminating the smooth, kissable skin across his chest and shoulders, the pair of board shorts that hung low on his hips. “Think it’ll help?”
Help her stop thinking about him? Unlikely.
“Better than a sleeping pill.” Piper hustled to the end of the deck and climbed onto the ladder.
“Need a buddy, Pipe?”
“No.”
Her toes dipped into the water, and goosebumps rippled up her legs. Freezing freakin’ water—all the better to snuff out the dangerous heat swirling through her limbs.
“It’s dangerous to swim alone.”
“I’ll risk it,” she said, and dived into the water.
Swimming toward the line of foamy white breakers, Piper let the cold shock her into concentrating on nothing more than the rhythm of her strokes. Wading onto the beach, she shivered as the air knifed into her. She glanced back at The Mollymawk and long arms lazily slicing through the water.
Damn the man.
Yeah, like he wouldn’t follow. If she hadn’t wanted West’s company, she would’ve high-tailed it back to her cabin the instant she’d seen him in the shadows.
Didn’t mean she’d make it easy for him.
Piper ran for the cluster of rocks exposed by the low tide. Once around them, the next bay opened up to a long stretch of beach out of sight of The Mollymawk.
She had a good head start, but even still, his footsteps behind her came surprisingly quick. West, like his brother Del, had always been fast on his feet, beating the other island boys in a footrace as kids.
Slowing as she reached the rocks, Piper risked a glance over her shoulder. Sixty feet away jogged a tall, lean silhouette. Not in any hurry, West’s arms pumped with no visible effort. He intended to wear her down like a cat waiting for a mouse to keel over from terrified exhaustion.
Hah.
Piper put on a burst of speed, streaking past the last of the rocks, flying over the beach, splashing through the tiny waves and suddenly laughing, laughing like a loon, at how incredible it felt to run down a deserted beach at midnight.
“I can do this all night, West. You won’t wear me out,” she yelled.
“Not trying to,” his mild voice came right behind her.
“Shit!” She lost her rhythm and stumbled to a fast march. “Don’t you ever get tired of scaring the hell out of me?”
“Can’t help my panther-like reflexes.” West loped alongside her. “And I like the view from back there.”
She bet her freezing ass he did. Piper slid a hand down to her butt to check the thin nylon hadn’t ridden up too high. So far, so good.
Her fast march slowed to a brisk walk, and then a stroll. He wasn’t going to be shaken off by her power-walking. She crossed her arms over her breasts in case West’s panther-like reflexes extended to superior night vision. Her night vision uncovered cords of muscle contracting in his upper
arms as he moved, a bare, wet physique, which gleamed almost white in the monochromatic landscape, and board shorts clinging to the long line of his thighs. And Lord, he smelled good. Salty, a little sweaty, and with a boatload of male pheromones on top of that. Good enough that she pinched her lower lip with her teeth to stop from leaning over and taking a bite.
“It’s good to hear you laugh, Pipe, to see you happy.” He moved closer as they walked, his arm brushing against hers.
Prickles of awareness skated along her nerve endings from the brief contact.
“I’m not happy.” Turned on a little, but definitely not happy. “I’m in a pissy girl mood, so for your own safety you should u-turn now.”
Before she jumped his bones right on the sand and shocked any stray kiwi still in the vicinity.
“Ah.” He made no move to turn away.
They kept walking and when he tried to link their hands, he laughed as she slapped his fingers away with a, “hmmph,” and a muttered, “Pissy, remember?”
“You can’t scare me off with your moods, you know. I’ve survived them all,” he said. “Besides, you’re a lot more fun now than at eighteen.”
“Fun? How am I more fun now?”
She thought of her life as it had been up until a few weeks ago. Days blurring, filled with work or squad call outs, brief outings with friends who weren’t cops, more work, raiding the shelves of the massive public library for something to do on those long nights alone, and then back to work. Sparse time in her schedule for fun.
“Well, you’re more fun to play with.”
Heat shimmered along her cheekbones and detoured south to parts that didn’t need to get any hotter. “Oh, shut up.”
He chuckled. “There’s the added challenge now of knowing you can kick my ass if I cheat.”
“So you’ll cheat to win, huh?”
“I’ll use any means necessary to win.”
Her breasts ached at the smoky tone in his voice, like he’d reached out and rolled her nipples between his fingertips.
“We’re not playing a game.”
“Then what do you call this series of steps we’ve been dancing to since you got back?” He tugged a short strand of her hair, but let go before she could flick his hand off. “I step toward you, you back off. You blindside me and I knock you off kilter. Isn’t this all a game, Pipe?”
Not to her. Not anymore.
But would she tell West her emotions had been roped into this game, where nobody could win and the best she could hope for was a painful draw?
No. Damn. Way.
“Sure.” She forced a casual laugh, but it sounded ragged and a little desperate in her ears.
West stopped on a dime and she snapped to a halt beside him, the tension between them a bungee cord. The light atmosphere, the undertone of flirtatious humor, vanished. She stepped back and a wave swirled around her ankles, her toes digging for purchase in the shifting sand.
Eyes glittering dangerously in the starlight, West closed the gap and caught her wrist, dragging her flush against him. “So, let’s play.”
Skin to skin, her brain short circuited. The only reply she uttered when his lips crushed hers was a soft moan. Nothing in the demanding pressure indicated playfulness. No teasing nibbles or caresses, no introductory this is just the appetizer kind of kiss. He kissed with full-throttled focus—a furious order for surrender. Her surrender.
Piper’s body flamed to life, from her parted lips, to her toes curled in the sand, to the dampness of her center, each vying for dominance. West’s tongue slipped into her mouth, deepening the kiss and stoking the fire higher and higher. She drowned in the taste of him—warmth, sea salt, pure heaven. Heaven mixed with the yeasty bitterness of beer.
Her last date, so many weeks ago she’d almost lost count, tasted of peppermint mouthwash when she’d kissed him goodnight. Like other men she’d gone out with he favored suits, the city nightlife, and sixty-buck bottles of wine. Yet none of those guys revved her engines as much as a shorts-wearing island man who drank beer. They didn’t challenge her in the sack, didn’t care if she only gave as much intimacy as she was comfortable with.
Bottom line—those men weren’t West.
Because West, while easy-going on the outside, would never let her get away with holding back. He wasn’t satisfied with half measures and she wanted a man to fight with her, fight for her. She wanted a man who would sometimes let her lead and at other times say, “the hell with this” and take what he wanted.
Like West took what he wanted now.
One hand threaded through her hair, his other gripped her hip, pulling her against his arousal. Piper swayed under the power of the kiss, shifting onto her toes so she could grind against the delicious length of him. The hand in her hair left to cup one butt cheek and she looped her arms around his neck. West broke the kiss long enough to growl, “Jump,” as he shifted her lower body higher. Piper jumped, her legs wrapping around his hips.
The play of muscles bunching across his shoulders tempted her. She inhaled the scent of sea and the faintest whisper of spicy cologne as she traced her lips over silky skin. West carried her a few strides away from the waves, dipping his fingers under the leg-line of her swimsuit. His touch whiplashed fire through her, forcing out another moan that she muffled by sinking her teeth into the column of his neck.
“Down, baby.” He breathed delicious warmth into her ear while clutching her butt with those strong, sure hands.
“Sorry, I don’t usually bite, I, ahhh—” She lost her train of thought when he nipped her earlobe, lapping the tiny hurt with his tongue.
“No, I literally mean, hop down.” His stubbled chin rubbed along her jaw, his lips curving against her cheek. “I’ve got both hands full of you and while that feels amazing, I need my hands free for other things.”
Other things.
Piper’s girly-bits liked that idea. A lot.
Unhooking her ankles, she slid down his legs, loving the rough brush of his hairs on her thighs. He claimed her mouth again as she touched the ground and her hands snaked around to grab his butt. How long had she wanted to get her hands on it? Forever. Piper dug her fingers into firm muscles and made like a limpet.
“God, I love your ass.” She tasted salt when she nipped his neck again, then trailed hot kisses up his throat.
“You’ve ogled it enough over the last few weeks.”
“Guilty.”
He caught her chin, took her lips in another knee-jellifying kiss. West lowered her onto her back, wedging himself into the juncture of her thighs. The sand, damp and cool, was forgotten. His weight covered her, the furnace heat of him warmed her, and the hard lines of his body—and, ohmigod, especially one part of his body—all conspired to momentarily distract her from the grittiness beneath her skin.
“I’ve never had sex on a beach before,” she gasped, when his hands, now free, peeled the swimsuit off her shoulders, exposing her breasts to the night air.
He paused, and even though starlight dulled the color of his eyes to a pewter grey, she couldn’t miss the desire in them.
“Tell me to stop right now, or you’re about to.” The ragged edge to his voice confirmed he meant it.
He dropped his head and sucked her nipple into his mouth. His tongue teased and tormented the sensitive bud until her nails dug into his shoulder, her hips thrusting up to meet his.
Jeez, the man really was a cheat.
Panting, Piper slid her fingers into his hair and jerked his head back, her breast slipping from his mouth with a soft pop.
She groaned, wanting nothing more than to let him continue his sweet torture. “West, we haven’t—you know, got anything.”
Starlight or not, his white teeth flashed in an unmistakable grin as his hand fumbled at his hip. His shorts rustled and with a flourish he produced an oblong strip of foil, which gleamed in said starlight.
A belly laugh escaped and she slapped his shoulder—hard. “You’ve got condoms in your pocket? Were you
hoping to get lucky?”
“I’m a guy—lucky’s my middle name.” He angled his body so his erection pressed against her core. “I won’t believe it if you say you’re not grateful for my foresight.”
Piper snaked a hand between their damp flesh and tilted her hips, sliding her fingers beneath the waistband of his shorts to wrap around him. Rewarded with a startled groan that vibrated through his body into hers, she continued to stroke him. West rose up and supported his weight on his forearms, allowing her hand to trace further down his length and cup his balls, pulled close to his body with arousal. Hard, hot, and satiny smooth—nothing had ever felt so wonderful against her skin.
His brow creased with concentration, his breathing choppy. West’s hand wrapped around her wrist, stilling it.
“Baby, I can’t take much more of that.”
“Sure you can.” Piper fondled the head of his cock, ensuring her thumb rubbed over the ridges slooowly.
He moaned again and jerked his hips so her hand slipped out of his shorts. “No, you witch, I can’t.”
West reared back and stripped off the rest of her swimsuit. He stood, tossing it aside and removing his shorts. What a sight he made in the glimmer of the crescent moon. He stole her breath, captured it in his calloused hands. She wanted to run her lips over every inch of him.
A crinkle as he ripped open the foil square for a condom. She would’ve offered to help, except at some point in the last minute her muscle control deserted her. So hot for his touch it was a minor miracle the sand beneath her hadn’t melted into glass.
He dropped his shorts to the sand and lay on top of them, pulling her astride his hips. Piper pinned his biceps down and bent to lick his nipple, causing him to gasp most satisfactorily.
“Feels good, huh?” Wondered if he remembered saying the same thing to her in the shower—after he’d driven her half out of her mind.
“Feels okay.” His chuckle came out strangled when she rocked her slickness along his hard length and sucked his nipple between her lips.
“Okay, okay—it feels amazing.”
She tortured his other nipple with her tongue, lapping up the taste of him, salty and sweet, as addictive as the decadent combination of peanut butter and dark chocolate. But yummier, much yummier.
In Too Deep Page 22
