Under the Covers (12 page)

"This is lovely. You didn't have to bring me here."

Drew looked genuinely surprised. "I asked you to dinner." A simple declaration, as if that explained everything.

"I meant we could have eaten somewhere less expensive." There were several restaurants onboard that weren't included in the all-expenses paid ticket price. Triton was the most expensive of them, even for the crew who, like everyone else, had to pay when they ate at the premium restaurants onboard.

"Don't worry. I can afford it." He sounded peeved that she'd question his ability to provide. Typical macho caveman reaction, she supposed. She hadn't come here to argue. That would probably come later. All she wanted to do was enjoy the meal, and maybe have some civilized conversation with Drew, something they'd never managed before.

"I didn't mean to insult you. I just meant I would have been happy with a lot less."

Their waiter glided back to the table, and Drew waved him off again. She peeked over the top of her menu to see Drew's jaw clenched tight and his gaze drilling a hole through her skull.

"You shouldn't have to settle for less," he said through clenched teeth. "Don't sell yourself short." He waved the waiter back and without consulting her, ordered for both of them. "I hope you don't mind. I've eaten here plenty of times. I know what's good."

She did mind, but he'd ordered what she was going to order for herself, so there wasn't any real reason to be upset. What fascinated her was his admission.

"No problem. Look, Drew. Don't take this the wrong way, but how can you afford to come here so often? I know that when the ladies menu doesn't have any prices, the place is really expensive."

He leaned back in his chair, one hand resting on the tabletop, flipping his salad fork over and over, studying the movement as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world. He looked at home in these surroundings, just as he did in scuba equipment, or when subduing kidnappers with an automatic weapon in one hand and a knife in the other. There was plenty she didn't know about Drew. She didn't think he was going to answer, so when he spoke, she almost jumped out of her skin.

 "I have money. Or I should say, my family has money."

"Huh." What was she supposed to say to that? The closest she'd ever been to having money was when she received the full academic scholarship to college.

"My mother comes from old Southern money."

 Must be nice. "What about your dad?"

"He's retired Navy."

Bree stared at Drew. His face was impassive, but she knew he was hiding something. She mulled it over. Navy. Whitcomb. "Oh my gosh! You're dad's not…?"

"Admiral Andrew Jackson Whitcomb the Third. Yeah, that's my old man."

Bree sank against the padded chair back. Holy smoke. Everyone in Washington, D.C. knew Admiral Whitcomb and his Southern socialite wife. Their parties were written up in all the papers and talked about in offices all over the District. "That makes you…?"

"A screw-up," he offered.

He couldn't be serious, but the expression on his face said he was. "I was going to say, Andrew Jackson the Fourth."

"I'm that, too. I did what was expected of me, went to Annapolis just like all the Whitcomb men for the last hundred years or so, but I'm not cut out for the political side of the Navy. Dad almost had heart failure when I went into SEAL training instead of playing the promotion game. Then, when I went over to the DIA, I think he would have disowned me if he could have done so. Fortunately for me, I'd already come into the trust funds my grandparents set up for me when I was a kid."

"Funds? As in more than one?"

"Yeah, more than one." He sat up, crossed his forearms on the edge of the table, and leaned into them. "What about you?"

Bree wanted to crawl under the table and disappear rather than tell him about herself. "Not much to tell."

"Oh, come on. There's got to be something. I told you my deep dark secret, so now you have to tell me yours."

"I don't have any secrets." That wasn't strictly true, but she wasn't about to tell Drew anything, especially now.

"Then tell me something that isn't a secret." His eyes twinkled and a wicked grin split his face. "Help me out here. I just confessed, and I'm dyin'."

No way was she telling Drew how she'd grown up living one day to the next, their meals dependent on whether her mother could keep her job long enough to collect a paycheck. All things considered, she and her younger sister Kayla had done all right for themselves, but she wasn't going to get into that with Drew. Not in this kind of restaurant, the kind her mother could never have gotten a waitressing job at, much less eaten at. Bree did the only thing she could. She changed the subject.

"Okay, I'll tell you something that's not a secret." She leaned in, crooking her finger to signal Drew to come closer. "I'm going to have you for dessert." Drew's eyes grew dark, and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. He wasn't thinking about his family, or hers. Not anymore, and that was a good thing.

"I'm going to taste every last bit of you." She ran her tongue over the curve of her top lip, then reached for her wine glass and sat back. Drew remained hunched over the table, staring at her with a blank, glazed look. A sense of power and not a little feminine satisfaction washed over her.

The waiter setting their plates on the table snapped Drew back to reality. Bree smiled to herself as Drew attacked his food as if someone might take it from him any minute.

She took her time, savoring every morsel for the enjoyment of the exquisite meal, and also to torture Drew. He'd cleaned his plate and sat back, once again eyeing her as if she had morphed into an alien bent on abducting him. Bree leisurely cut a morsel of chicken and brought it to her mouth. She placed it on her tongue and closed her lips over the tines of the fork. A groan came from the other side of the table as she slid the fork from her mouth and savored the tender chicken. She swallowed and flicked her tongue out to capture an imaginary bit of flavor from the corner of her mouth.

"Christ. If you keep that up, I'm going to die right here."

"Keep what up?"

"Don't pretend you aren't doing that on purpose." He shifted in his seat, one hand beneath the tablecloth. "I'm in pain. Finish your meal, and let's get the hell out of here."

She folded her napkin and placed it on the table. "I'm finished. I've arranged for dessert to be delivered to our cabin." Drew's eyes blazed hot, and determination lined his clenched jaw.

"I'll see that you get dessert."

"No. Tonight it's my way, or not at all."

A muscle twitched in his temple. "What way is that? Exactly."

If she thought for a second Drew would hurt her, she would have been concerned about the way he'd said those few words. But Drew wouldn't hurt her. Ever. At least not physically. She was all too aware that he alone had the power to break her heart, because she'd long ago given it to him. When she left, she'd leave it behind. With a man who didn't want it, didn't want anything but her body. That worked both ways, the body part at least. She wanted his, and he was going to give it to her. He might not be happy about it, but he'd like it. She was sure of that.

"I said I'd bring the handcuffs. I did. Tonight, you're mine."

He raised one eyebrow and his lips twitched in…amusement? "What if I don't want to be yours?"

"Oh, you do. Right now you're hard as a post, and your balls are turning blue. You've been staring at me like I'm an alien, and I'm inclined to indulge you in your little fantasy."

"What fantasy is that?"

Bree leaned over the table and crooked her finger at him. He leaned in and she whispered, "The one where you're my prisoner, and I take advantage of you. The one where your cock is mine to do with as I please. The one where I give you hell, then take you to heaven."

"You think this is my fantasy?" He growled.

"I know it is. You're a generous lover. You give your partners what you think they want, when you want more. You want a woman to give you what you want. I'm that woman."

"What do you think I want?" His voice was steadier now.

"You want someone to return the favor. Someone to focus entirely on making you feel good. Someone to take the decisions out of your hands. Someone who will make you beg."

"I don't beg."

"You will."

His eyes went dark, and he shifted in his seat. Again.

She had him squirming, and that's just what she wanted. "Are you afraid, Drew? You were all about chaining me to Andromeda's Rock, but when it comes to giving me the same power over you, you're chicken. I can hear you clucking. Or is that your knees knocking?"

Drew stood, his movements controlled and methodical.

Bree smiled at his obvious arousal and took his outstretched hand, threading her fingers through his. His skin was on fire, something she was surprised to notice. She herself was so hot, spontaneous combustion might be a possibility. His eyes smoldered with promise, despite the ticking muscle in his jaw. She'd pushed him near to breaking. The knowledge made her heart lurch and her insides turn to liquid.

 "Let's go," he said.

Bree led the way with Drew's hand searing a brand into the small of her back. Never once did his hand leave her back all the way to his—now their—cabin. He spoke not a word, but the pace he set conveyed plenty of meaning. Drew was in a hurry, but no more so than she. As soon as the door closed behind them, his hand slipped around her waist, turning her. Her back met the door, and Drew pressed his length against her. He ducked his head and took her mouth in a brutal kiss that left no doubt in her mind. She'd gotten to him. She'd nailed his fantasy, and he had every intention of denying it, denying himself and her of a night of incredible sex.

She pushed against his hard chest. "Stop," she said, wrenching her mouth away from his. "Get your hands off me."

His body tensed. Then he stepped away, leaving scorch marks on her breast and ass where his hands had been.

"I get it. You don't have to go all macho on me to prove I'm wrong. If anything, your behavior proves I'm right." She sidestepped and managed to get past him and into the room. Everything was just as she'd requested from the cabin steward. The bed was turned down, and an assortment of chocolate confections sat on a stool next to the bed. She had a few more items to add to the tray, but she had no intention of showing those to Drew until he was cuffed to the headboard.

"I don't surrender to anyone."

"I'm not asking for surrender. I'm telling you, I want your body, and you're going to give it to me."

"Like hell I am."

"Gotta go to hell before you know what heaven is."

"I don't let anyone put me in cuffs." He closed the distance between them. He was almost a foot taller and outweighed her by a good sixty pounds. He was lethal, with or without a weapon.

Bree was well trained in self-defense, but she was no match for Drew. If he didn't willingly let her restrain him, she couldn't force him to.

"However, I'm willing to let you test your theory, but without the cuffs. No restraints." He whipped off his sarong, revealing his impressive erection. He wrapped his hand around his cock and stroked. Once. Twice.

Bree's mouth watered at the sight of Drew's fingers clamped around his cock. Dear God. What was it about a man masturbating that was so damned sexy? She almost forgot about her plans for him, and the fact that he'd just offered to let her have her way with him. Almost. "What… what do you mean?"

He continued to stroke, slow and deliberate. His hand came up to cover the tip, then the hard, purple head peaked out as his hand slid back to the base. Bree swallowed hard.

"It looks like you've gone to a lot of trouble,” he said. “I'd hate to disappoint you, so here's what I'll do." She tore her eyes from his cock, wrapped in his strong, masculine hand, and looked into his eyes. "I'll let you have your fun, and I won't touch you unless you ask me to. How's that?" His eyes said he was serious. He
was
a Navy SEAL. If there was any human on the planet with the kind of self-control needed for what she had in mind, it would be a SEAL.

"You really think you can let me do my worst, and not touch me?"

"I'm sure."

"No touching. You keep your hands above your head, and if you so much as make a move to touch me, or yourself, I get to put the cuffs on you."