by Roz Lee
Sean drew a hot line, the width of a single blunt fingertip, between her breasts, down her sternum. The fevered finger dipped into the concave recess of her navel, mimicked another, more intimate act, before moving on. Lower.
Breathe.
Oh what that man could do with just one finger. It ought to be illegal. Probably was in some states.
His touch was so light he probably wasn’t even leaving a trail of DNA behind. No evidence. Nothing to convict him of the crime. Thanks to the satin blindfold, she couldn’t even claim to be an eyewitness, but her body knew. The traitorous bitch.
The last bit of cloth protecting her modesty slid away. No need to beg. Sean touched her. There. Firm, yet almost not at all. Her bitch of a body reacted. Her hips rose, forcing the small of her back flat against the table. Basta cosi! That’s enough!
“Get. Your. Hands. Off. Of. Me.” She forced the words past clenched teeth like bullets through a bent gun barrel. They didn’t want to go, but had no choice in the matter.
“Hello, Celeste.” The single digit remained on her clit. “Long time, no see.”
The deep rumble of his voice, like a long ago caress, sent a fireball of arousal to the nerve endings beneath his fingertip. She fought the instantaneous slide toward subspace. After all these years, that’s all it took. One touch, a few spoken words, and her body submitted.
But not this time. Not now. She was over that, over him.
Celeste curled her fingers around the smooth pebbles in her open palms. She hated that her body betrayed her in every way, including her anger.
“Get out, Sean.”
He pried her fingers open, took the cooled pebble from one hand and replaced it with a warmed one, and closed her fingers around it.
“I’ll be waiting.”
Without any sensory data to support the knowledge, she knew he was gone.
“Va t'empaler encule!” The brave words tumbled from her lips as she rose to a sitting position. “Go fuck yourself, Sean.” Stones clattered to the tiled floor, taking with them any hope of returning to the peace she’d found before Sean arrived. She hooked a thumb under the spa mask and sent it flying. She opened her left hand and studied the stone there. With infinite patience, she twisted her wrist and watched the stone slide off her hand to join the others on the floor.
Celeste took a deep breath and tightened her grip on the stone in her right hand. One by one, she peeled her fingers away until the rock lay flat on her open palm. Black writing on the white pebble stared back at her. His cabin number. As usual, Sean Callahan commanded. She closed her fingers over the solid mass, and with a string of curses a sailor would be proud of, she drew her arm back and threw the rock as hard as she could. It hit the door with a satisfying thud. “Damn you, Sean Callahan.”
* * * * *
She wasn’t here to see him. If she was, she would have come directly to him as soon as she set foot onboard the Lothario. That left only two options. She was here to see Drew, or she was on vacation.
He knew she hadn’t contacted Drew since she’d been onboard. That left vacation, an option he wasn’t ready to buy into.
It wasn’t possible to avoid her for an entire week, so confronting her had been necessary. Sean had bided his time, watched and waited for the right opportunity. When she’d checked in at the spa, he knew the time was right. He would confront her, but on his terms, not hers.
What he hadn’t counted on was the tsunami of feelings when he touched her. Hell, he hadn’t planned to touch her. He flexed his fingers. He wouldn’t be surprised if his fingertip was singed, she’d been so damned hot. Her skin was still as smooth as satin, and for brief second, she’d slipped under his control. But, she’d had years to build walls again, and she’d fought her body’s natural inclination.
He’d believed the years since he’d seen her had tempered the need to touch her. He knew different now. Not an eff-ing thing had changed.
Sean grabbed a bottle of orange juice from the refrigerator in his brother’s private kitchen, and kicked the appliance door shut with one foot. He unscrewed the plastic lid and tossed it on the counter, tilting the bottle to his lips. He took a long sip as he crossed to the balcony. With his free hand, he slid his sunglasses from the top of his head to shade his eyes. The warm Caribbean sun did nothing to improve his mood. Three months on the Lothario, and he still wasn’t used to the pitch and roll of the monster machine beneath his feet.
And now, this. Celeste.
He dropped into one of the plush chaises and closed his eyes. He should tell Drew she was onboard. But first, he wanted to hear it from her, why she was here? He took another long pull from the bottle and let it swing over the arm of the chair, one long finger crooked in the neck of the bottle. The same finger. The one he’d touched her with.
Damn it all to hell.
* * * * *
Celeste planted her feet in front of Sean’s cabin door. For the hundredth time since she’d come aboard, she cursed the wardrobe provided by the cruise ship. Whose bright idea was it anyway to insist passengers wear what was provided, or nothing at all? As far as she could tell, there wasn’t much difference. She tugged at the wrap, a scrap of white terrycloth trimmed with turquoise satin. If she pulled it low enough to cover what was supposed to be covered below, then things that were supposed to be covered higher up were exposed. Since Sean was a breast man, she pulled the fabric scrap as high as she dared.
She sucked in a deep breath, steeled herself against the draw of the man inside. She wasn’t the same woman she was five years ago. She didn’t need a Dom, especially not one named Sean Callahan.
A young woman answered her knock and directed her to the balcony. Celeste took in the opulent cabin appointments. This must be Ryan Callahan’s cabin. Having sold the online dating site he’d founded with his college roommate, Richard Wolfe, Ryan had the funds to own a ship like the Lothario, and to live in this kind of luxury.
A tingle of awareness began along the shell of her ears and spread like a bad rash along her spine to her outermost extremities. Another step brought her close enough to glimpse a patch of dark hair over the back of a chaise Cleopatra would have killed to own.
Sean.
Chapter Two
Celeste inched closer until one muscled shoulder came into view. Her eyes followed the length of bronzed skin dusted with dark hairs, down to his hand. A bottle hung from a single finger crooked in the lip. Some things never changed. Some people drank when they were upset. Sean was one of them. However, his drink of choice had always been orange juice. She smiled, despite herself. It was good to know she could still rattle his cage.
“Hello, Sean.”
“Sit.”
Celeste stepped onto the balcony and, defying his order, leaned against the balustrade. Maybe if she didn’t look at him, this would be easier. The sun warmed her skin, and the salt breeze reminded her she wasn’t home. They’d left Miami behind. As far as the eye could see, there was nothing but open water.
“I’m not yours to command anymore.”
“Why is that?”
“It just is, Sean. If you haven’t figured it out by now, then you don’t need to know.”
“How’s the Ambassador?”
“Daddy is fine. He says he’s retired, but he’s driving mama crazy.”
“And the lovely Giselle?”
She craned her neck around to look at him. “My mother is still as lovely as ever.” She didn’t want to talk about her parents, not with Sean, not now. “My parents are fine. You didn’t bring me here to talk about them, did you?”
“No, I didn’t, but I’m glad to hear they’re doing well. I always enjoyed their company.” He brought the juice bottle to his lips and drank. She watched the muscles in his neck as he swallowed. She turned away again.
“Did you come to see Drew?”
She jerked her gaze around to him. If she believed this cruise couldn’t get any worse, she was wrong. “He’s here?”
“Where else woul
d he be?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t. . . . ” She hadn’t dared think about it.
“Didn’t know he’s my business partner, or didn’t know we were still friends?”
“Both, I mean. . . neither.” She turned so she could see him and leaned against the railing. It was a mistake. His eyes, obscured by the aviator sunglasses, gave nothing away. Likewise, his face showed no sign of the roiling emotions the orange juice container guaranteed. He still wore his hair in a military cut, but perhaps to blend in on the ship, several days’ stubble darkened his sharp jaw. Sprawled across the chaise, dressed in nothing more than turquoise shorts she recognized as crew issue, he looked every inch the seducer of women the ship was named for.
It was going to take more than bravado to survive this encounter.
“You didn’t come to see me or Drew, so why are you here?”
“I’m on vacation. I thought a cruise would be relaxing.”
“You always were a terrible liar.”
There wasn’t any sense in arguing that point. She couldn’t win because it was true. That flaw had been the bane of her existence within the CIA, and later, the DIA. Thankfully, she’d had other qualities that made her a valuable asset to the department. Apparently, a change from one bowl of alphabet soup to another had done nothing to improve her deceptive abilities. “I’m here on business. I need to talk to your brother.”
He raised the juice container to his lips and drained it. Not a good sign. “You work for?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“If it involves the Lothario, it’s my business. Ryan isn’t onboard.” His smile challenged her to argue the point.
“Richard Wolfe?”
“Also not here. It’s me, or nobody.”
“Accidenti!” Crap! Some women had all the luck. She wasn’t one of them. She turned her gaze to the open sea. “You’re in charge?”
He moved as quietly as a jaguar, and she knew, he could be equally deadly. Her heart raced as he joined her at the balustrade. One arm stretched across the small of her back, and his palm came to rest on the curve of her thigh and inched upward until it cupped her butt cheek. The scrap of lace covering it did nothing to filter the heat radiating from his skin to hers. His thumb stroked the soft flesh he found there.
“If you can call it that. What’s this about?” His voice dropped to that low register, the one that made her pussy clench and her mind go blank.
She pushed his hand away and cursed the short sarong, wishing now she’d tugged it lower instead of higher.
His hand returned to where it had been. “Should I tell Drew you’re here?”
She clenched her hands around the polished wood rail. It was hard to tell where the line was between business and personal. It was hard to think with Sean touching her. “I don’t suppose there’s any way to avoid him for the next week?”
“No. The ship is big, but it isn’t that big.”
“Then I’d appreciate it if you could tell him for me. I’d hate to run into him without him knowing.”
“Like you did with me?”
She took her time answering. “I’m sorry, Sean. I shouldn’t have come.”
“You shouldn’t have ever left.”
Her heart squeezed, and a dull, familiar pain, spread all the way to her fingers and toes. “I had to. You know I did.”
“I think Drew would disagree with you.”
“It was the best thing – for both of you.”
“Was it the best thing for you?”
If only she knew the answer to that. Five years had gone by and her heart still ached when she thought of Sean and Drew. She’d worked hard to build a new life and with his single question, she saw her new life evaporating in the wind. She needed to get away from him, far away before she did something stupid, like beg him to take her back. She took a step backward. His hand left a trail of scorched skin across her ass.
“I have to go now. You’ll tell Drew I’m here?”
Sean turned and brushed past her to the chaise, and resumed the position she’d found him in. “I’ll tell him.” His tone dismissed her, more so than his words.
She stared at him, trying to process it all. Celeste fled while she still could. She hadn’t expected the anger, or the deep hurt she’d heard in his voice. Had she been wrong? If she hadn’t left, could they have made it work? For the first time, she began to question what she’d done.
Her small cabin didn’t provide much room to pace, so she sprawled across the bed and stared at the stranger in the mirror mounted on the ceiling. Who was this soft, blubbering idiot? Tears streamed across her temples, and she swiped them away with trembling fingers. Drew and Sean. Both of them. Here. Now. Again.
It was too much to contemplate. She thought Sean would have moved on. Had he married? Dear God, was he married now? She closed her eyes and brought his image to mind. How stupid to have to think about it. She was trained to observe. She should have noted his left ring finger, and registered the information without conscious thought. That she now had to search her brain for the answer brought her own anger to the surface.
Sean Callahan’s lean, muscled body invaded her consciousness. She forced her mind to recall his left hand. No ring. No telltale sign he’d ever worn one. If he’d been married, it was so long ago that the ring shadow was gone.
He looked older, but far from decrepit. He was still a devastatingly virile man. The touch of silver at his temples added an air of sophistication he’d lacked five years ago. She and Drew had kidded him about looking like a baby James Bond, but, he’d shown them how wrong they were.
Celeste groaned and curled into a tight ball as a wave of desire pulsed through her. She could still feel the imprint of his hand on her ass. She should have thrown him overboard for groping her, but it had felt so damned good. Her core turned to liquid the minute she saw him sitting there, and when he touched her. . . well, if his fingers had moved a little lower he would have known how wet she was. Another groan tore from her. Sean wouldn’t have stopped there if he’d known, and God help her, she wouldn’t have made a move to stop him.
Need overwhelmed her. The welcome basket she’d thought was over the top because of its erotic contents provided a life-sized dildo. Her fingers found her aching nub. She uncoiled, spread her legs, and pressed the heel of her hand against her clit. In a moment, her panties hung around one ankle, and her middle finger dipped low to spread her juices over her swollen flesh. She teased her clit until she couldn’t wait any longer for the promised release. She coated the dildo in her ample juices, and drove it home with one swift motion. She arched her back and rolled to her side. Her hand wedged between her tight thighs, worked her phantom lover.
She pulled her knees to her chest, and gained better access. The dildo pressed inside her dripping slit and caressed her secret spot. A few more strokes and she ground herself against the heel of her hand. The orgasm rolled over her in unrelenting waves. She bit her lower lip to keep from calling out his name.
She buried her face in the pillow and let the tears fall. She cried for what she’d left behind, the future she’d sacrificed and the men she loved, but couldn’t have.
* * * * *
Sean found Drew in the security office on Deck Three, one deck below the lowest of the passenger decks. The cramped quarters held enough surveillance equipment to monitor a small country, as well as an arsenal capable of repelling a pirate fleet, if need be.
His friend and business partner sat in front of a big screen monitor mounted on the wall. He didn’t take his eyes off the patchwork of live images when Sean entered.
“What’s up?”
“Nothing. It’s business as usual.” He pointed at the screen. “Check out the couple on the Arcadia Deck. You think I should send someone up there in case they fall overboard?”
Sean pulled a rolling desk chair next to Drew and stared at the screen too. “It might be a good idea. Anybody stupid enough to fuck in that position deserves to
fall overboard, but I doubt Ryan and Richard would see it that way.” Personally, Sean didn’t care, but his brother Ryan and his business partner Richard, had left him in charge. Losing a couple of passengers would be a breach of that trust. He waited while Drew dispatched a member of the security team to take care of the situation.
Drew continued to stare at the image on the screen. “So what brings you down here?”
“Anything new on the eco-terrorist threat?”
“Not a thing. At least not anything they’re telling us.”
“You can’t trust the FBI. They always think they know what’s best, and they damned sure don’t want someone else stealing their thunder, especially not people like you and me.”
Drew pushed away from the desk and his roller chair carried him across the room to the coffee pot. He poured himself a cup and offered Sean one with a silent gesture. Sean shook his head and Drew returned to the desk, coffee in hand.
“She’s here,” Sean said.
“Who?”
“Celeste.”
Drew sipped his coffee and stared at the screen. Silence stretched between them.
“Drew?”
“I know.”
“You know?”
“Yeah. I saw her this morning.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
His shoulders rose and fell. “I don’t know. I figured you would find out soon enough.”
“Did you talk to her?”
“No. I saw her on the monitor. Does she know we’re onboard?”
“Yes.”
“How is she?”
“She looks good.” Too damned good. Not much had changed over the years. Her ass was still firm and round. She’d changed her hairstyle, on top and on bottom, and her body looked as fit and enticing as it had the last time he held her. He’d been angry with her for so long, the tidal wave of desire that hit him when he touched her surprised him. He still wanted her more than any woman he’d ever known.