Under the Covers

by Roz Lee

  She held out her cup and he filled it from the insulated pot before refilling his own. He waited until she'd taken a good long drink before he voiced the conclusion he'd come to sometime just before dawn. "I think you should move into my cabin."

  Bree returned her coffee cup to the tray, setting it down with a gentle click against its saucer. Her chin dipped to her chest, and he could see the thin line of her lips. Her pink tongue darted out, coating them with moisture. His cock grew harder imagining those lips on him, surrounding him. Nevertheless, he braced for the storm he knew was brewing. He'd had enough time to think his decision through, and he'd prepared himself for an argument. A lengthy one.

  "Does your cabin have a window?"

  "Yes, and a balcony. And don't you dare suggest I throw myself off it. You can't go on like this, Bree." He indicated the open deck, her wrapped in a blanket. "For God's sake, you were so exhausted you fell asleep on deck. That’s twice now. It would be dangerous as hell on any ship, but this one? Anybody could have found you up here, and done God only knows what to you. Did you know your bare ass was exposed when I found you?"

  From the way her face paled, he could tell that had been news to her. She had about the cutest ass he'd ever seen, and the thought of someone else ogling it made his blood boil. It had taken more restraint than he knew he had to keep from touching her, tasting her last night.

  Figuring his best defense was an offense, Drew kept going. "You could have been molested, or it might have rained." At her raised eyebrow, he admitted to himself that was an unlikely occurrence in the Caribbean this time of year. "What if there had been an emergency? If the ship listed like it did when that Hunter kid reprogrammed the ballast water computers, you might have slid off the deck, and no one would have seen you. You’d have gone overboard and not a soul would have known." He waved his hand at the plastic panels beneath the railing. "Did you really want to trust your life to a sheet of plastic?"

  "Are you through?"

  "I think I said everything I needed to say. If you're too thickheaded to see I'm right, I'll have your stuff moved anyway. I'm tired of playing games with you. I intend to take care of you, whether you like it or not." He squared his shoulders, prepared for the blast of a female foghorn.

  "Okay."

  "Okay, what?" He didn't trust her answer. She was too calm. There had to be more.

  She didn't disappoint. "Okay to moving into your cabin. Not okay to the taking care of me part. I can take care of myself."

  He didn't know what to say, so he stuffed half a muffin in his mouth.

  "I'm tired of living like a sardine,” she said. “I don't know how you Navy types do it. I don't plan to be on the Lothario much longer, but if you're offering a room with a view, I'm taking it."

  He washed the muffin down with the rest of his coffee and stuffed the other half of the muffin in his mouth. He knew she wasn't finished. He was right.

  "I'm tired of playing games, too. I want you."

  He choked on the muffin. Bree didn't offer her assistance, but she did refill his coffee while he struggled to keep muffin debris from filling his lungs.

  "Like I said,” she continued when he stopped choking, “I want you. Only this time, I'm going to be in charge." She stood, snatched a chocolate muffin from the tray, and dropped the blanket from her shoulders. "Have my stuff moved. I'll see you tonight."

  At the top of the down staircase a few feet away, she paused. "I'll bring the handcuffs."

  Chapter Seven

  Damn.

  Drew watched Bree disappear a few inches at a time as she descended the stairs. When she was completely out of sight, he allowed himself to breathe. There was something about the way she'd delivered her parting words that told him she intended to use those handcuffs on him. Why his cock was standing at attention thinking about it, he had no idea. He'd never let any woman restrain him during sex, but he was pretty damned sure he'd let Bree Stanton do any fucking thing she wanted. So long as fucking was involved.

  Voices on the deck below jolted him from the erotic possibilities playing out in his fertile imagination. The ship had dropped anchor over an hour ago, and the crew was preparing for most of the passengers to go ashore at the private island. Drew stood and stretched. Yesterday, he'd received a summons from Sean. One word that needed no translation. "Come." He'd received the same command about once a month since Sean and Celeste had married, and he wouldn't lie to himself, he'd looked forward to the time with them. Until now. Time on shore meant time away from Bree, but this time, he had something of his own he wanted to run by Sean.

  Drew made his way to his cabin, showered and dressed in his own clothes. He'd be damned if he was going to discuss business wearing anything the Lothario provided. He'd never been comfortable in the crew shorts. How could anyone be taken seriously wearing turquoise? His tan cargo shorts and worn T-shirt made him feel almost human. Getting back to the real world would complete the transformation.

  He checked in with Richard and Ryan, assuring them that while he was on the island, he’d look into some of the security issues they'd discussed earlier. They and their wives hadn't been off the ship since the kidnapping and had no plans to return to the island, nor to the resort construction site on the adjacent island. Not until the changes they'd requested were complete.

  They'd be safe enough on the ship, but for his own peace of mind, Drew assigned one of his team to keep an eye on them while he was gone. It took a few minutes to arrange the transfer of Bree's things to his cabin, and then he joined a tender full of passengers eager for a day on the beach, and headed to the island.

  They weren't expecting him until later in the day, but Celeste greeted him as if she hadn't seen him in years instead of weeks. He wrapped his arms around her and swept her into a spinning hug. It was like hugging his sister. He sat her back on her feet and looked into her eyes.

  She smiled up at him before rising to her toes and placing a kiss on his cheek. "You look great, sweetheart."

  "You don't look so bad yourself, hotshot." Drew eased her away and turned to his best friend and business partner. Sean Callahan stood a few feet away, watching.

  "I can't say I was happy about the two of you going back into the DIA," Drew said, "even in such a low-key capacity. But it seems to be agreeing with you." He offered his hand, and Sean closed the distance between them. "Celeste gets more beautiful by the day, and you're as hard to read as you ever were. I honestly don't know what Celeste sees in you."

  "Drew." Sean smiled as he took Drew's hand in his.

  "Sean. Any news?"

  "We'll get to that."

  Drew followed Celeste into the living room of Ryan's house, where they were staying while Sean supervised the security installation at the new resort under construction. Celeste took a seat on the sofa. Drew elected to stand, remaining near the doorway. Sean stood between the two of them.

  "I got your email. What's going on?" Drew asked.

  "The usual. I have the business reports to go over with you, and I heard something about changes to this house and the resort?"

  "Yeah. I'll fill you in."

  He ate lunch with both Sean and Celeste, then he and Sean went over the details of the security business they'd begun six years earlier when they'd both left the DIA. Now that they'd gone back to work for the Agency, they kept the successful business as a cover for Sean and Celeste.

  Sean set aside the printouts he'd prepared. "You got something else on your mind?"

  Drew rubbed the back of his neck. He'd given a lot of thought to how he could keep Bree close to him after the situation with Vernon Cannon was taken care of, and he'd only come up with one way to accomplish his goal. "Yeah, I do. You know I'm going to be looking for a new partner, and I've got someone in mind for the job."

  "Who? Is it someone we've worked with before?"

  "Yes, and no. Bree Stanton. She's a damned good FBI agent, and she says she wants to move on when this case is over. I trust her instincts. She'd be a good o
perative."

  The last thing he expected was Sean's smile. Sean rarely smiled even a little, but this blinding smile, reflected in his eyes, was enough to make Drew wonder if the pod people had taken over his friend's body.

  "I agree. Celeste has nothing but good things to say about Bree. As a matter of fact, Bree has contacted Celeste for a reference."

  "She applied to the DIA?" The little she-witch! She'd been lying to him all along.

  "You didn't know?"

  "No. I knew she was up to something, but she hasn't said a word about where she planned on going. I guess I should have suspected." Drew laughed at how she'd played him. "Maybe she'll be a better agent than I thought."

  "Perhaps," Sean agreed. "She's more than ready to move on, but the office is holding her application until I give them the go-ahead. They want to see how she handles this thing with Vernon Cannon before they make a decision. This is her first case to work solo."

  Drew didn't know what to say, so he kept his mouth shut.

  “When this is over,” Sean added, “I'll be counting on your assessment of her skills.

  Sean relaxed into his desk chair, once again shifting subjects so fast it made Drew's head spin. "I'm more concerned,” Sean said, “about whether the two of you—you and Bree—can work together without killing each other."

  "We can. I think we're working out our differences." Images of Bree beneath him, taking him inside her, flashed through his mind. Yeah, he was doing all he could to get closer to Bree. "We'll make a good team."

  Sean nodded. "Let me fill you in on the latest intelligence reports, then." He unlocked the hidden floor safe and pulled out a sheaf of papers. "The key to finding Vernon Cannon is Bree Stanton. If anyone can figure out what he'll do next, it's her."

  "She knows his MO better than anyone."

  "That's what we're counting on." Sean handed over the reports. "Look at these. I don't think there's anything in them you don't already know. Right now, you're our best asset on the case. No one else is in a position to keep an eye on Bree."

  "I sure as hell don't want another agent getting close to her."

  "Celeste thought that might be the way the wind blows."

  "What does she know about me and Bree?"

  "Nothing I know of, but I got the idea from her that Bree means more to you than just another case, or as a potential DIA partner."

  Shit. There were definitely disadvantages to getting too close to your partners. You couldn't hide a goddamned thing from them. Drew shook his head. "Not that it's doing me any good. Has she told you anything more about Cannon? She won't tell me shit."

  "No. Last I heard, the FBI still doesn't know where he is. The profilers think he's dangerous, though, and that's why we're involved. We've got our own people looking for Cannon, but so far we haven't come up with any more than the FBI. Hell, he could be anywhere."

  "That's what I'm afraid of. But I think Bree knows something, something she isn't telling us."

  "Pillow talk not working with the little lady?"

  Drew grimaced. Then his lips morphed into a tight smile. "There haven't been a lot of pillows in our relationship." Not since the first time he made love to her. After that, it had all been hard surfaces beneath them, something he was damned well going to change. Tonight. "I've got to go."

  Sean's laughter followed him to the living room, where he said goodbye to Celeste. She kissed him again as if they were siblings, nothing more. Once, he would have read more into it than was there, but that part of their life was over.

  ****

  Bree had plenty to do. She had the reports to go over from her superior, and a lot of thinking to do. This thing with Vernon Cannon had gone on too long. For whatever reason, the FBI was devoting a lot of resources to finding this guy, not the least of which was herself, babysitting a cruise ship. There was more to their concern than they were telling her. She was sure of it.

  With most of the passengers on the beach, the ship was blessedly quiet. A few people clustered in the open-air bar on the Odyssey deck, but other than that, she had the deck to herself. She found a shady spot and sat down to think.

  Since the first attack on the Lothario, Cannon's attacks had escalated at an alarming rate. Beginning with small fires, really nothing more than inconvenient pranks, he'd moved on to more serious fires, and then to reprogramming the ballast water pumps. From there, he'd taken a giant leap into kidnapping and extortion. In all the attacks, he'd hired people to do the dirty work for him, and they'd all fallen short of the goal. He hadn't convinced the owners to sell the ship to him.

  It didn't make any sense. Cannon had enough money to build and outfit his own fleet of cruise ships, so why would he go to so much trouble to get his hands on this one? Every cruise for the next year was sold out, indicating the market could handle a competitor. No, this wasn't about owning the ship. Cannon had a reputation for getting anything and everything he wanted. Absolutely no one told Vernon Cannon “no.” Then along came two kids half his age who did just that. For Cannon, this had become a power struggle.

  Bree had an image of children in a pool, fighting over the biggest and best pool toy. Granted, the Caribbean was a very large pool, and the Lothario more than your typical pool toy, but the analogy fit. Cannon, the neighborhood bully, sent his minions to wrestle the coveted toy away from the new kids, but they'd refused to budge, or give up their fancy toy. So, what would the bully do next? He'd sent his lackeys and they'd failed. The old adage came to mind. If you want something done right, do it yourself.

  She knew in her bones Cannon would do exactly that. He'd take matters into his own hands. Did he still covet the ship, or was he looking at the big picture now? There was a good chance he'd forgotten all about the toy, but he'd never forget the people who refused to recognize his superiority. Like most bullies, he'd look for the spot where his nemesis was most vulnerable, look for a way to do the most damage. In a way, he'd tried that with the kidnapping. But with the new security measures in place, he wasn't going to get within a mile of the Callahans, the Wolfes or the Lothario.

  What did that leave? She had no idea what kind of assets Richard and Ryan had, other than the ship and the resort under construction. She'd have to ask them if there was any other place they might be vulnerable. Could Cannon get his hands on their cash, sabotage any business dealings? He'd be looking for something grand, and it wouldn't matter to him how long it took. He'd already demonstrated his ability to plan, and on a grand scale. Yeah, there was only variable. This time, he would do the dirty work himself. Now, all she had to do was find him.

  Even after a lengthy conversation with Ryan and Richard, she still had no idea where Cannon would strike next. She had a short list of places she was sure he wouldn't go after, either because he couldn't, or because the attack wouldn't be grand enough. Bullies thrived on attention. The thrill of having everyone focused on them, either bowing to, or in awe of, their superiority. She'd bet her bottom dollar Cannon was that sort of person. He'd made his millions on the backs of one business partner after another, and there wasn't a single person listed as a friend in his dossier.

  She let herself into Drew's cabin, now her cabin too, with the key he'd sent to the Security Office earlier in the day. Before he disappeared.

  Not that she'd been looking for him.

  As promised, all her things had been moved from the sardine can she'd called home for the last few months. Someone, housekeeping she presumed, had closed the drapes. Bree let the light in, tossed the small bag she'd brought with her onto the bed, and stepped onto what passed for a balcony. Two chairs and a table that would hold two drinks and nothing more occupied the space, leaving barely enough room for two people to stand at the rail. But it was paradise compared to where she'd been living. The private beach in the distance was dotted with tanned bodies and a few flashes of white where the more modest passengers, the ones wearing the swimsuits provided, sunbathed. A loaded tender approached the loading dock on Atlantis deck with a crop of pa
ssengers returning from their shore day.

  Bree inhaled the scent of freedom, then went back inside. She'd promised Drew she would bring the handcuffs. The pair she'd picked up from the gift shop glinted in the light from the open balcony as they slid from the bag to the opulent comforter. Even the bedding was a step up from what she was used to. Bree ran her hand over the gold satin, trimmed with a Greek motif embroidered with cream thread. It was tempting to drop her sarong and let the cool fabric slide over her skin, but before she did that, she needed a shower. She lifted the stack of pillows on what she'd decided would be her side of the bed and slid the handcuffs underneath. She couldn't wait to see Drew's expression when he realized she meant to use them on him, rather than the other way around.

  God, even the shower was better.

  Bree turned her face into the spray and let the hot water carry away every thought, every worry. She squeezed a glob of her new lemon-scented body wash on her loofah and worked it into a lather against her skin. Bliss. Tension sluiced away with the foamy water and swirled down the floor drain. The only thing better would be a bubble bath with candles. Lots of candles, and chocolate. Tonight was the Midnight Chocolate Buffet. Loads and loads of chocolate perfection. She hadn't missed one since arriving onboard. Once a week, every week, the pastry chefs put out enough chocolate to put a woman in a coma, not to mention the elaborate erotic chocolate-coated human tableaus. There wasn't a female alive who would pass that up, unless she had her own erotic human to coat in chocolate. A smile curved her lips and her nipples puckered just thinking about her plans for Drew this evening.

  He tasted like heaven. She'd found that out when she bit him on the shoulder. That little taste had only whetted her appetite for him, and tonight she'd taste him all she wanted. And she wanted. Oh, how she wanted.

  Need pulsed hot and heavy through her veins. She cupped her breasts in her palms and flicked her thumbs over her aching nipples. Maybe she'd let Drew suck them tonight. How fun would it be to brush her nipples against his face, to tease him until he begged for a taste of her? She could hover just beyond his reach, which wouldn't be far given the way she planned to restrain him. Then she could do the same thing with her pussy. Would he beg for what she withheld? She could almost hear him now, his deep, sexy voice pleading in that slow southern drawl. "Please, darlin'. I want you. I need you. Bring your sweet pussy down here and let me taste you."