by Jo Leigh
She sniffled, then moved her head so her mouth wasn’t pressing against him. “I keep thinking I’m fine, that I’ve got it under control.”
“You’ve been doing great.”
“For the record, you were right. The fake kidnapping was a lousy idea.”
“Yeah, and this one’s not so hot, either.”
She sighed, her body shuddering with the exhalation. “I’m really worried about my father.”
“He’ll be busy trying to find us. Besides, he’s a tough old man. He’s dealt with dangerous circumstances before.”
“That’s what’s got me so concerned. When my cousin was kidnapped, my uncle Joseph did everything he was supposed to. He didn’t call the cops, he got all the money together and took it where they told him to. He followed their instructions to the letter. Once the kidnappers took the cash, they didn’t give Lisa back. She was found three days later.”
“Shit.”
“She was fifteen. They’d hurt her, raped her. Then they killed her. Strangled her to death. Nothing was ever the same again.”
“I thought you were—”
“I was. I escaped. I have no memory of it. None. I don’t know why I got out and she didn’t.”
Michael didn’t know what to say. No wonder Tate was so phobic about being taken. She had every reason to be terrified. And because of him there was a damn good chance she was going to die, just as her cousin had.
He had to tell her about Charlie. No matter what, he couldn’t let her find out on her own. It wasn’t that he didn’t relish facing her anger and disappointment; he deserved everything she could dish out. The problem was that she was hanging on by a thread here, and the only reason she hadn’t lost it completely was because she trusted him.
Telling her that his own brother had given her over to the ruthless bastards out there was going to be a heavy blow. He had no clue if she’d be able to recover from it.
On the other hand, unless they got off the boat in the next few hours, it would be inevitable that she’d find out. Jazz and Ed—hell, even Charlie—had no reason to keep his secret.
He had no choice. He had to get them off this boat. In order to do that, he needed Tate to sleep. It was already late, and he didn’t want to wait until everyone was fresh in the morning. His window of opportunity was in the next couple of hours.
Unfortunately he had no convenient means of helping Tate get some rest. No pills, no booze. He certainly wasn’t going to knock her out.
“What’s wrong?”
He looked down and met her gaze. “Nothing.”
“I felt your whole body tense. What aren’t you telling me?”
The urge to confess about Charlie hit him hard, but he held back. “You need to get some rest.”
“That’s not news. For that matter, so do you.”
“You’re right. So why don’t we both try to sleep?”
Her quiet little laugh made her lips vibrate against his chest. “I have insomnia on good days. You think I’m going to be able to nod off here?”
He brushed the side of her face with his fingers, then lifted her chin so he could see her once more. “There are other ways to forget about what’s out there.”
She studied him while he took deep breaths. He probably shouldn’t do this. It would add insult to injury when she found out about Charlie. But if he did it right, sex should put her right to sleep.
Not that the job would be difficult. He was already getting hard at the thought of touching her. He wanted to make her come so hard she’d pass out. Well, at least fall asleep. The trick would be not coming himself.
He liked to think he could be ready for anything, anytime, anyplace, but even he had to admit that there were certain circumstances…If she’d been a stranger or one of his friends who didn’t think twice about hooking up for a night, there’d be no problem. But he liked Tate. He also knew that this wasn’t a woman who took making love lightly.
The last thing he wanted to do was mess her up in this area, too. Jesus, he couldn’t believe how screwed up this all was. He’d had an outstanding record his entire time in the service. Commendations, promotions. He’d led men into fights with no chance of success, only to come out the other end bloodied but unbowed.
Now he was on the cushiest job he’d had since college, and it was fucked up beyond all reason. The worst of it was that Tate was the one paying for his mistakes.
“Michael?”
He reached down until he had a grip on her, then drew her up so she shared his pillow. He kissed her, wanting to make this as good as he could. He wanted her to know how he admired her, how beautiful she was and how extraordinary.
He might have had his fair share of terrific women, but Tate…Tate was different. Tate was—
MICHAEL TOOK HER mouth desperately. She came alive inside, kissing him back, clutching at his neck in her need to get closer.
It was like drowning in a riptide, being tugged under by forces so elemental there was simply no fighting back. She didn’t want to fight.
Yes, they were out there, but in here she was being caressed by large, warm hands. He pulled his arm from underneath her neck so he could get at her buttons, and she reached for his. Inelegant—in fact, clumsy—they managed somehow to take off each other’s tops and do some serious French kissing at the same time. It would make an interesting Olympic event, one she’d like to train for.
Her bra was off and she wasn’t sure how. All she knew was that she liked the way her breasts felt as they pressed against his chest. Even better was his hand cupping her, brushing her very sensitive nipples before he squeezed her flesh.
Giddy with sensation, she ran her hand down his chest and stomach, amazed at the hardness of him, then down his pants, where she discovered a whole different kind of hardness. He was impressive. Not so big she’d walk funny but large enough she’d fill her diary with exclamation points. He was straining against his pants, hissing as she rubbed him.
Braver still, she found his zipper and managed somehow not to hurt him as she lowered it. Inside was her surprise. Hard, hot, thick, the moment her hand circled his shaft, his cock jumped as if he couldn’t contain his eagerness.
“God, Tate,” he murmured, his moan as deep as his thrusting tongue.
She loved touching him, but her hold was awkward, so she released him and tackled his belt.
That needed a more deft hand than her own, and being attentive, Michael pitched in. A moment later his pants were halfway off, leaving her feeling quite overdressed.
He caught her in another astonishing kiss, then leaned back. “Get undressed,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
The bed felt instantly cold as he left her there, and once she realized he was going into the bathroom, she hurriedly wiggled out of her pants and panties. The rush was so she could get out of her really ugly socks. They were made to wear with pants, but to the untrained eye they looked like old-lady stockings. She wanted so badly to be appealing to him, to not spoil it by doing one of a hundred things she’d fretted about in the past. And, no, it didn’t matter at all that it was too dark for him to see.
With Graydon, she’d worried about looking fat, about making bodily function sounds even though she knew they were perfectly natural. She’d worried about not being tight enough, about being too tight. She had never quite pleased him, although he wouldn’t tell her what it was that made him want to get up after he’d come to watch TV on the couch. He would always fall asleep in the living room, leaving her to wonder.
At least she’d always come. A lot of times she’d had to take care of that for herself, but for an overall selfish man, Graydon had stepped up to the plate his fair share. It still bothered her that they’d stayed together for so long, for all the wrong reasons. Thank goodness he’d found another heiress, someone who matched his family’s net worth. They had broken up with a handshake and no regrets. Well, he’d had none. She’d felt as if she’d wasted the only good years she ever had. So soon after college she’d
turned recluse, and that had been the end of a traditional sex life for her. But she was quite certain that being alone was far better than being with someone like Graydon. Of course, being with Michael was best of all.
She hoped.
The bed dipped with his return, and she cursed her bad luck for not watching him. She’d like to see him naked, all of him, standing in good light. She’d pictured him so many times; she wondered if she’d gotten any of it right.
He held up a box. “Condoms.”
“That makes sense, considering the clothes I found in the drawers.”
He got close, his body chilled from his brief foray out. It felt delicious as he pressed up against her. One thing for sure—the trip hadn’t dampened his enthusiasm one bit.
“You feel good,” he said, his fingers brushing her hair back from her face.
“So do you.”
“I’ve thought about this a lot,” he said. “Imagined this a hundred times.”
She raised her head, checking his face for lies. “Really?”
“Really.”
“I had no idea.”
“You weren’t meant to. It wouldn’t have been appropriate.”
She sighed as she settled against him, resting her head on his pillow. “I suppose all bets are off now.”
“Yep,” he said. “Until I’ve got you home, this is a whole new ball game. I want you to tell me if anything is uncomfortable or frightening. Aside from the obvious, of course.”
“I will.”
He touched her chin and made eye contact. “Anything. That means you get to say stop anytime. You can change your mind, and it’ll be just fine. Got that?”
She nodded.
“Seriously.”
“Michael?”
“Yeah?”
“I appreciate it, but I’m in.”
He studied her for a long moment. “Thank God.”
She laughed, but his kiss silenced her. Soon his hands were exploring all her private places, touching her with a fascinating mixture of reverence and greed.
Since she’d always been a fan of quid pro quo, she decided to throw caution to the wind and discover Michael to her heart’s content. She wasn’t satisfied simply to stroke his cock. She cupped his balls. Delighted at his response, she pinched his delectable ass.
“Hey!”
“Shh,” she said before she kissed him again, thrusting her tongue inside him. That quieted him down. Except for his moans, which did strange and wonderful things to her insides.
Nothing she’d felt prepared her, though, for the sensation of his fingers parting her lips, rubbing her all the way up and down, then sliding into her once, twice. Her muscles tightened and her heart beat faster, but there was no panic now. Nothing but excitement and anticipation as his finger found her clit.
He was tender there, the tip of his finger moving in tiny circles, but it still made her eyelids flutter closed, made her abandon his mouth for her own soft, “Oh.”
“You like that?” he whispered.
“Mmm,” she mumbled, moving her hips to the rhythm of his rubbing.
“You’re so wet and hot.” He plunged into her again, this time not so gently.
She eased her left leg over his hip, giving him permission to plunder away.
“You’re making me crazy.”
She smiled. “Me? I’m not the one with the wicked fingers.”
“I was going to ask you about that,” he said. “I’ve always imagined you being very, very wicked.”
“Me?”
“Oh, yes. Don’t forget, I know what you read. What you think is funny. You’re not normal, Tate.”
“What?”
“I said you’re not normal.”
“I don’t know….” she said. “Should I be insulted?”
“God, no. I love that on the outside you’re so prim and together. They all think you’re sweet, don’t they? They all assume you live so quietly because you’re just a good girl who does what she’s supposed to.”
“I am.”
“Yes. But I was there for the discussion of The Story of O, remember? I know exactly how you felt about that one scene in The Big Easy. You may have been on the phone with Sara, but you were talking to me.”
“Oh, God,” she said, burying her head in the pillow so he couldn’t see her blush. “Was I that obvious?”
“I can’t hear you when you mumble into the pillow.”
She lifted her head and repeated the question.
“Yes. You were.”
She groaned, and this time it wasn’t from his busy digits.
“Hey, I liked it.”
She shook her head, not wanting to hear his excuses. She knew he was just being polite, and that killed her.
He leaned down so his mouth was close to her ear. “I used to go home and stroke myself to the memory of your voice.”
A shiver raced down her spine, and she ended up squeezing his finger quite tightly.
“See? You do like to tease. And you can’t tell me you didn’t know the effect it had on me. There were all those times when I stood behind the limo door after letting you out. I can’t believe you didn’t know why.”
Looking up once more, she tried to figure out if he was playing her. Was it all just a way to make her forget that she probably wasn’t going to live to have sex again? He looked sincere, but that didn’t mean a thing. The only real proof she had—if she could call it that—was his very hard dick. Of course, he might be getting off for any number of reasons, only one of them being that he truly wanted her.
“What are you thinking?”
“That this could all be some ploy to distract me.”
“It’s not. But if it was…?”
She smiled. “Good point. Distract away.”
His fingers stilled, his body tensed and the way he looked at her gave her gooseflesh. “Know this, Tate Baxter. I think you’re an amazing woman and I’d never do anything to hurt you. Got that?”
She blinked back sudden tears, but he didn’t see because he was kissing her again. When he pushed her to her back, she went eagerly, spreading her legs for him. It had been a long time, but she was so ready that when he pushed inside her, she nearly passed out from the pleasure.
While he was in her, fully in her, he somehow lifted her butt and shoved a pillow underneath. So when he moved the next time, he not only filled her perfectly but he rubbed her already engorged clit.
She’d read about this neat little trick but always assumed it was fiction. Boy, was she glad to be wrong.
It was her last coherent thought as Michael proceeded to rock not just her world but all the worlds in the galaxy. She came like a Roman candle, and he had to kiss her so she wouldn’t wake everyone on the East Coast.
Flushed, gasping, eyes closed, she felt him remove the pillow from under her butt, then pull the covers up to her chest. She wasn’t sure if his gentle kiss on the forehead was real or a dream or both.
HE GOT OUT OF THE bed and went straight for the bathroom so his moaning wouldn’t wake her.
He pulled off the damn rubber, then turned on the cold water, whispering every curse in every language he knew. He’d held off before, but damn, it had never hurt like this. He was getting old, that’s all. Old and unable to control himself as well.
It seemed to take forever for his dick to calm the hell down, and even then getting dressed made him swear again. He’d done his job, all right. She’d fallen asleep, as predicted. Now all he had to do was make sure she didn’t wake up in the middle of his escape.
He got his comb out of his back pocket. No one ever thought to take the comb. Not only was it good for handcuffs, he could open one hell of a lot of locks with this puppy. It was cheap, too. He’d bought a pack of fifty for five bucks.
He slipped the scissors into his pocket, then turned off the light. He’d get himself into the saloon, praying no one was watching the door. All he’d need was a few seconds of good surveillance and he could go on the offensive.
<
br /> He stepped out of the head to find Tate still sleeping. Then he turned off the cabin light and made sure there was no bleed of light around the door. It was dark, which was just what he needed.
He quietly made his way to the door, which only took him a minute to unlock. Then he was in the saloon and he closed the door behind him.
Martini wasn’t sitting in his big leather chair anymore. Charlie had fallen asleep on the couch, and Jazz had drifted off with his head on the side counter.
He made his way toward Jazz, determined to get his gun before taking him out, just in case. As he reached for the weapon, pain tore through him like lightning. Then black.
10
TATE TOUCHED MICHAEL’S shoulder, really worried now that the hit on the head had done serious damage. He’d been out for hours, and the swelling, despite the damp cloths she’d kept on it, was bad.
Just after he’d been dumped on the bed, the boat had pulled anchor and set out. She had no idea if they were going to the Cayman Islands or simply out to sea to dispose of bodies, but she did know they were traveling fast. When she’d looked out the porthole, she’d seen no land at all in the early-morning light.
If only he’d wake up.
She sat back on the bed watching his chest rise and fall. He’d been so wonderful to her last night. It had changed everything for her about sex, and if this hadn’t been the single worst experience of her life, she’d have been in heaven.
More then ever she wanted to survive this. Not just to get over her fears but to see what would happen between her and Michael. Was she the worst person on Earth to be thinking of their future together while he might be seriously hurt? She supposed it was no worse than her prognosis. They’d either die tonight, in the cold depths of the sea, or in about a week, after she’d signed her money away. Or Michael would recover and he’d save her.
She decided right then to focus on option three.
Her father wouldn’t have hired him if he wasn’t the best, right? And he’d gotten them this far. Okay, so his escape plan last night hadn’t gone so well. But, come on, the guy had had no way of knowing what was behind the door. At least he’d tried.
