by Roz Lee
Rule number one when you're wrong. Keep your mouth shut.
Richard lowered his voice so only Drew could hear. "I can't fire Bree. She's the only thing we've got in this battle with Cannon. If anyone has to go, it will be you. You and Sean are the best security firm out there, but if this keeps up, I'll have to ask you to send someone else to protect us." Richard paused to let his words sink in. "I won't ever forget the meticulous plan you devised and carried out to rescue Fallon and Candace. But if you can't make nice with Bree, then I won't have any choice."
Drew clenched his jaw tight enough to grind his molars to dust. It would be so easy to set Richard straight, but now wasn't the time. As jobs went, this one wasn't so bad. It kept him close to Bree, and right now, that was important for reasons he couldn't share with Richard, or anyone else. He had to make peace with her. But first, he had a score to settle. "I appreciate the position you're in, Richard. Don't worry. I'll work this out with Bree."
Fallon pushed her way through the crowd and handed Drew a new sarong. He muttered his thanks, then turned his back to her before slinging it around his hips, her laughter ringing in his ears. He'd work it out with Bree. That was a given. He turned back around and found both Fallon and Richard smiling at him. "Thanks for coming. I've never had to be rescued by a client before."
Richard laughed and clapped him on the back. "It was our pleasure. We can't ever pay back what you did for us, but this was a start."
Fallon continued to smile at him in an all too knowing way. Christ, this couldn't get any worse.
"You pay me too much to have to come to my rescue. It won't happen again, I promise. Now, let's get you back to your suite. You shouldn't be running around the ship alone.”
****
Bree wished she could read lips. What were they saying? She'd fully expected him to call the security office and demand one of her team come let him loose. She'd watched the monitors and waited for the phone to ring. Her jaw almost hit the floor when Richard pushed through the crowd to free Drew. She'd have to apologize to Richard and Fallon at the first opportunity. Her stunt was as unprofessional as it got, and she'd never dreamed Drew would involve the ship's owners. Still, watching this was worth any groveling she'd have to do in the future.
She might not be able to read their lips, but she could read body language. Drew's body telegraphed his emotions clearly. If he clenched his jaw any tighter he'd need surgery to pry his mouth open, and even though he was speaking to Richard, his eyes evaded the younger man. For a moment after the cuffs came off, Drew's shoulders slumped in relief. He shook his freed hand like he was shaking off an insect, while his other hand remained over his groin in a protective gesture. He turned his back to the camera, wrapped the sarong around his hips, and swung around. In that moment, a change came over him. Gone was the humiliation, the embarrassment, and in their place, something that made her jerk back from the monitor as if it had bared teeth and lunged at her. In place of the anger was something much more frightening. Cold, hard resignation.
"Oh boy," she muttered. She'd miscalculated, big time. Instead of warning Drew off, she'd done exactly the opposite. The calculation in his eyes was unmistakable. He was coming for her, and there wasn't any place she could hide that he wouldn't find her. And when he did, he'd take his revenge whether she liked it or not. A shiver racked her body. The only question was, would she like it?
Images of all the possible ways Drew could take his revenge flashed through her brain. Bree spun away from the monitor and buried her face in her hands. Oh god. She wanted him to do all those things to her. Every. Last. One of them.
Chapter Three
Bree ducked into the Coliseum and leaned against the wall behind the last row of seats. She pressed a trembling hand to her midsection and willed her heartbeat to slow. Seconds passed, and no one else came through the doors. She let out a pent-up breath and slumped against the wall. Evading Drew was getting more difficult by the day. It had been a week since she'd handcuffed him to the starboard rail, and she hadn't had a moment of peace since. Not for one second did she think he'd forgotten, or forgiven.
He was playing with her. She was the mouse, trapped inside the wall, and Drew was the cat waiting to pounce. Sure, he gave her leeway to do her job. But several times a day she'd catch a glimpse of him. His way of letting her know he was watching, biding his time, waiting for the right opportunity. She was about to go nuts. Much more of this, and she wouldn't be responsible for her actions.
The house lights went dark, and the music began. A spotlight illuminated a voluptuous pirate wench center-stage. So used to the skeletal, surgically enhanced nymphomaniacs on board, Bree was concerned how the crowd would react to the Burlesque show. She needn't have worried. The singer's sultry voice and dramatic flair won over the audience within seconds. The crowd cheered and jeered as the woman strutted across the stage. She teased the audience, revealing more skin as her costume diminished, one piece at a time. Bree was as drawn in as anyone else, and for a few minutes, she forgot all about Drew.
A rowdy group stumbled down the aisle toward the exit and Bree grabbed for the handrail behind her. Distracted by the drunken passengers and concerned for her toes, the clasp around her wrist went unheeded until one of the group turned toward her. In an automatic response, Bree lifted her hand in warning. Cold metal bit into her wrist, stopping her motion after a few inches.
"What the…?" she used her other hand to shove her unwanted admirer away, then turned disbelieving eyes on her uncooperative wrist. A gleaming cuff circled her arm, and its mate held fast to the wooden handrail. Her mind whirled and she knew a split second of panic before a deep masculine voice drew her attention away from her captivity.
"Gotcha." Drew leaned one shoulder against the wall, a shit-eating grin on his face. His arms were folded across his bare chest and one leg was bent, toes to the carpet, in front of the other, as if he had no particular place to go or a care in the world. Bree stepped back, but the cuff snagged hard against a rail support. Drew advanced. She flattened herself against the wall. His grin was gone, replaced by a clenched jaw. A muscle ticked in his right temple, and his narrowed eyes were all the signs she needed to assess her situation.
She raised her free hand to his chest and removed it just as quickly. Touching him was so not a good idea. "Drew…."
"Don't." One blunt finger sealed her lips. "Don't say a thing."
He dropped his finger, and she had to stifle the groan that tried to follow it. Shit and damn. Why did her body have to react to him this way?
"Do you understand?"
She nodded her head once.
"As much as I'm enjoying the Burlesque show, I have other entertainments in mind. I'm finished playing games, Bree." The same finger that singed her lips now traveled along her jaw, down the pulsing artery in her neck, along her collarbone and slipped under the band of elastic just above her breast. Her heart skipped into overdrive. "This is payback for the stunt you pulled on me the other day. Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was?"
Yeah, she thought she did, and she prayed his payback wouldn't be in kind. His finger tugged on the band of her sarong and a plea almost slipped past her lips. She wouldn't beg. At least not until it was her only option.
"I should give you a taste of your own medicine, but my mama taught me better than that. So this is what we're going to do." Her sarong dipped lower and she silently thanked God for the darkened theater. Cool air brushed the swell of her breast as his finger found her nipple. The nub hardened beneath his attention, and liquid heat pooled between her legs. It was a good thing Drew didn't really expect her to participate in the conversation, because she had a hard enough time following what he was saying.
He leaned in close. Hot breath fanned against her ear, sending a shiver along her spine. "I want you. I want you naked beneath me.”
She closed her eyes and gripped the handrail until pain shot through her fingers. Maybe the pain would be enough to offset the unholy desire rush
ing through her body with every compelling word he whispered in her ear. Her previous convictions were vanishing faster than rain in the desert.
His lips moved against her ear, their only point of contact besides his finger toying with her nipple. "I want to see you wet and desperate for release. I want to hear you beg me to let you come." He flexed his hips, trapping her between the handrail and his hard-on. Begging was no longer out of the question.
His lips were hot against her neck. She tilted her head to one side to allow him better access. Her body was on slow burn, fueled by his words, his body and the fiery trail his lips left as he tasted every available inch of exposed skin. She sucked in a breath when his lips found the swell of her breast. Dear God, he was good with his lips.
He returned to her ear, and a tiny sliver of sanity returned. She had to find a way out of this. This was the Drew she'd known that first night on board the Lothario. He was methodical, thorough, and completely in control of himself. And to her everlasting mortification, in control of her as well. She'd always given as much as she got in bed. Only with Drew had she allowed a man to take total control. And it had felt so damned good. It was also the single most frightening thing she'd ever done in her life. After that, she'd been careful not to let him get the upper hand again. The other times they'd had sex, she made sure she was the one pushing his buttons. Then she'd mark him. A bite on the shoulder, a well aimed verbal barb, scratches on his chest. If he thought she lost her wits when he touched her, so be it.
Now, as his hands molded themselves to her waist and his beard abraded her jaw, she was terribly afraid he'd found a way to control her. And there wasn't a damned thing she wanted to do about it. She was beginning to get really tired of the single word that continued to pop into her head when she thought about her physical reaction to Drew. Pathetic. Yep, that about summed it up.
"I'm going to cuff you to me until we get where we're going. In this, you have no choice. Once we get to our destination, I'll ask if you want to continue. If you say no, I'll stop. But don't lie to me, darlin'. Don't lie to yourself. Think about what you want."
The metal cuffs jangled between them as they traversed the length of the ship and went up a flight of stairs to the Aegean deck. Bree was too caught up in her own thoughts to worry about what people thought of the two of them handcuffed together. What did she care, anyway? Their little scene was nothing compared to some of the things going on aboard the Lothario. She scrambled to keep up. Drew wasn't wasting any time taking her to his lair. She almost chuckled at the absurdity of her thoughts, until they came to a stop in front of the opaque glass doors to Andromeda. It was closed in the evenings, the sole restaurant on the ship that served only lunch. A trickle of fear raced along her spine, mingled with an equal dose of anticipation as Drew keyed in the access code. The doors slid open and he pulled her inside. The room was dark, except for one lone beacon illuminating the granite edifice in the center of the room.
Her fear multiplied a hundred-fold. He couldn't… He wouldn't….
"You have only one thing to decide." His voice came to her out of the darkness, as seductive and dark as the deepest ocean abyss. "I'm going to ask you a question. There are only two possible answers. Yes, or no. If you say no, I'll unlock the cuffs and you can walk out of here, no questions asked. If you say yes, there will be no turning back. You'll be agreeing to anything and everything I want of you. I won't stop no matter what you do or say. Take all the time you need to answer. Do you understand?"
Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth and she swallowed hard, trying to pry it loose. Eventually she formed the words with a voice that sounded nothing like her own. "I understand."
"Good." He tugged on her wrist where she was joined to him. "Look at me, Bree."
She pulled her eyes away from Andromeda's rock to the equally unmovable male rock beside her.
"You know I'll never hurt you."
She nodded in agreement. He'd never physically harm her. She knew it. Drew wasn't that kind of lover. The only harm he could inflict was to her heart, and that, she feared, was the greatest danger in playing this game.
"Okay, then." He squared his shoulders. His chest expanded as he took a deep breath. The question flowed out as he exhaled, slow and smooth, and not a hint of playfulness in his tone. "Do you want this?"
It was a simple question, wrought with more complications than Bree could conceive. It didn't take much imagination to figure out what Drew had in mind, though how he was going to make love to her once he had her chained to Andromeda's Rock, she didn't really know. Her body trembled as possible scenarios flashed through her mind. He hadn't given her any real clues as to what he planned to do. The damned man was playing with her, showing her just enough to scare her out of her wits. And to make her wet and weak with need.
If she said no, would her legs be capable of carrying her out of there? If she said yes, was she agreeing to more than just a little bondage play? Of course she would be. She knew firsthand how masterful Drew was in bed, how knowledgeable he was about the female body. Could she survive what he had planned? If she could walk at all when he was through, would she walk away unscathed? She was already perilously close to diving into the depths where Drew was concerned. If she went along with this, she might sink to the bottom, and that would be that. Everything she'd put in motion for her future would be in jeopardy, her plans to get off this ship, to join the DIA and see the world while serving her country. Could she do that if it meant leaving Drew and her heart behind?
To his credit, he stood statue still, the darkness masking his features while she made up her mind. He was such an honorable man, loyal to his country, true to his friends, dedicated to his work. On the other hand, he was infuriating. He attracted estrogen like hydrogen atoms attract oxygen to form water. Did all those women think they'd be transformed if they bonded with him? Of course they did, and they were right. Bree was living proof you couldn't spend a night in Drew's bed and not be affected. But there wasn't any sign he was similarly affected, unless you considered tonight.
She glanced at the rock with its chains, where daily, poor Andromeda awaited Prometheus to save her from her dismal fate. If she became Drew's Andromeda, would he be her Prometheus? Would he swoop down from his testosterone throne and whisk her off to safety in his arms forevermore? Hardly. He was only toying with her. It amused him. When he’d had enough, he'd forget about her and move on to some other woman. The gods only knew he had plenty of choices.
Which brought her back to her choices. Yes, or no? There were any number of logical reasons to say no, but only one, extremely illogical reason to say yes. She wanted Drew. She wanted to surrender to him. She wanted to have no choices. She wanted to see those dark chocolate eyes of his focused entirely on her and her pleasure. And she had no doubt he would give her pleasure. Probably more than she could take, but she wouldn't have any choice, because he'd chain her to Andromeda's Rock and like he said, nothing she could say or do would make him relent until he'd had enough of her.
Reasoned out like that, there was only one answer she could give.
****
Drew had been in some stressful situations in his life, but waiting in the dark, unable to read the expressions on Bree's face while she decided, was the worst. Worse than SEAL training, and that couldn't be described in words. Worse, even, than watching Celeste sink to her knees in front of Sean and accept his collar. That had felt like someone ripped his heart out with a pair of red-hot tongs. This was infinitely worse. If Bree said no, he'd have no choice but to let her go. Then he'd simply throw himself overboard in the dead of night. He'd have to check the currents first to make sure he didn't wash up on a beach somewhere. Living just wouldn't do.
Over the last week, while he'd been playing cat-and-mouse games with her, he'd had plenty of time to think about why he was doing this. He still didn't know exactly why, but he did know he couldn't not do it. He had to have this woman. He had to give her a night of passion. He had to show her wh
at it would be like to let go, to let someone else be responsible for her pleasure. He didn't think she'd relinquished complete control of anything, to anyone, in her entire life, and that was a damned shame. So far as he was concerned, there was nothing more satisfying than giving a woman total pleasure, seeing them abandon everything to pure sexual pleasure. He knew how to give a woman that gift, and it didn't always involve him finding release too.
His eyes adjusted to the shadowed light and, if he squinted, he could make out Bree's expression. She'd sucked her bottom lip inside her luscious mouth, and her eyes were wide, taking in Andromeda's rock. One wrist was still shackled to his, but she held her midsection with her other arm as if to support herself. Maybe he shouldn't have brought her here. He could have taken her to his cabin, or one of the private fetish rooms. But this was more fitting. Here, with no bed in sight, he'd be less tempted to give into his own needs. Here, he could restrain her just enough to prevent her from taking charge, and at the same time he'd have full access to her body. If she agreed to stay.
Her gaze shifted from the illuminated rock to him. Her indecision shown in her eyes, and it was on his lips to tell her she was free to go when she spoke. "Drew, I…." Something fluttered against his palm and he realized her manacled hand sought his. He moved a fraction, enough to allow her to touch him. Her hand slipped into his and his heart stopped beating. Oh merciful God. She was going to walk away. He knew it in every cell of his body. This was it. The denial of what they had, could have, together. "I…."
He'd get on his knees and beg if he had to before he'd let her walk away. "You can trust me, Bree."
Her arm dropped from her waist, and her fingers squeezed around his. He felt the chain tightening around the stone in his chest where his heart was supposed to be.