Under the Surface

by Kira Sinclair

  She was hot and wet. Sweet and salty. Perfect. Just like the whimper that fell from her parted lips.

  Jackson swept his tongue over her, enjoying the way she pulsed and clenched, and begged him to plunge inside. Instead, he found the tiny bundle of nerves at the top and swirled around it, going so close, but never quite touching.

  He tortured them both, his own body throbbing uncontrollably with every breathy sound and muffled moan. Loralei arched back, pushed her sex closer to his mouth, searching for relief he wasn’t quite ready to give.

  Her palms settled at his waist, her fingers digging in hard. Her hair brushed back and forth, a silken waterfall softly caressing his pounding erection. He was driving them both crazy.

  And it felt so damn good. She felt so damn good.

  Unable to deny himself what they both wanted any longer, Jackson plunged his tongue into the greedy opening of her sex. Loralei cried out, her entire body shuddering. Swirling a fingertip across her clit, Jackson reveled in the way she lost control.

  Uninhibited, Loralei bucked against his mouth. The taste of her filled him. He needed more.

  Jackson didn’t even wait for her climax to end before shifting her onto her back. She settled in the soft sand and several inches of water. Her body was pliant and beautiful when he opened her thighs wide.

  “I don’t have a condom,” he panted out.

  Loralei laughed, the sound a thin tinkle that tripped across his senses. “I’m not sure whether to be angry or flattered. Nice to know you didn’t bring me out here with the sole purpose of seducing me.”

  “Stop fishing for compliments. We both know I’ve wanted you from the minute I saw you.”

  “I’m on the pill and clean. The last lover I had was eighteen months ago.”

  “So am I. Just donated blood and was tested.”

  Loralei’s answer was to spread her thighs wider, arch up and offer him everything. And Jackson accepted, plunging deep inside.

  Her eyes went wide, a moan falling from her lips. Her sex rippled around him.

  “Jesus, Loralei,” he groaned, stilling. He had to find his sanity, not to mention some damn control. He didn’t want to hurt her and he was so damn close to losing any sense of civility that he’d ever laid claim to.

  She dug her fingers into his hips, rolling her own, urging him to move.

  “Stop,” he ground out. “Just...give me a minute.”

  Shaking her head, she stared up at him. He recognized the wide-eyed, lust-filled expression because he had no doubt he was wearing the same damn one.

  He’d just made her scream and still she wanted more.

  If this woman wasn’t trying to rip him off, she’d be damn near perfect. Too perfect.

  Shaking away the unwanted thought, Jackson began to move. Her sex squeezed him, the aftershocks of her release sizzling along his sensitive shaft. Quick and shallow, hard and deep, he could stay buried inside her welcoming heat forever.

  But neither of them would last that long. At least not tonight.

  When he could feel her entire body quivering, when she was whimpering mindless syllables that were probably supposed to be words, he finally let himself go.

  The climax rolled up from the base of his spine, exploding out in a shower of unbelievable relief and pleasure. He groaned her name, only marginally appeased that his own name was echoing off the water surrounding them.

  Slowly, they drifted back to earth.

  Loralei shifted, her eyes cracking open to glittering slits of deep emerald. A satisfied smile tugged at her lips and Jackson couldn’t stop the intense feeling of pride and power at the knowledge that he’d put that sated, drowsy expression on her face.

  “That was...nice.”

  “Nice, huh?” he murmured. “Pretty sure it was a hell of a lot more than that.”

  “Mmm.” Her agreement buzzed against his skin.

  At some point he’d stretched out beside her, his thigh and arm slung over her body. She stretched, arching languidly. Her breasts rose above the gently lapping water. For a second Jackson contemplated pulling one peak into his mouth again, but decided they both could use a few minutes before attempting round two.

  Instead, he rose up, digging one elbow into the soft sand so he could look down at her.

  Grabbing a handful of water, he trickled it over the part of her body exposed to the moonlight.

  “Don’t look now, but I’m pretty sure your fear of water is gone.”

  He watched her eyes pop wide and her body stiffen. But only for a few seconds. Her gaze jerked around them, taking in their private inlet, the stars twinkling above them and the water surrounding them.

  Her chest rose and fell on a deep, heavy breath. The pulse at the base of her neck fluttered erratically for several seconds. He watched her fight the last fingers of fear as they tried to slip back through and claim her again.

  Her jaw tightened and her eyes narrowed.

  God, she was stubborn. He admired that about her. Not many people had the guts to face head on the kind of debilitating fear he’d witnessed.

  Finally finding his gaze, she stared up at him for several seconds. Her hands played quietly through the water, swishing back and forth. A look of wonder dawned slowly across her face. It was one of the most dazzling things he’d ever seen.

  Tears he never would have expected glittered at the corners of her eyes.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, the words thick and husky with emotion.

  “I didn’t do anything,” Jackson argued. It had been all her. He’d just stood beside her to give her courage and support. She was the one who’d actually confronted her fear.

  “You did more than you realize.”

  * * *

  THE ADMISSION HAD been difficult to give, but true. She never could have gotten through those moments in the water without him.

  That, more than anything, had her rolling away from him. Pushing to her feet, Loralei glanced around, looking for her bathing suit.

  The thing had been rather bright with tropical flowers in red, yellow, orange and pink on a black background. Easy enough to spot even in the moonlight. Or it should have been.

  Shallow water lapped at her ankles and a brief spurt of dread fired up in her belly.

  Glancing out, Loralei saw a brief flash of pink caught in the up swell of a wave.

  “You have got to be kidding me,” she moaned.

  But, no, if she thought about it logically, why wouldn’t her bathing suit be drifting out to sea?

  Because that was exactly how every encounter with Jackson Duchane seemed to end. Drinks over his head, near drownings and trips to the ER.

  Still lounging in the water, Jackson pushed onto his elbows and gazed up at her.

  “What?”

  With a silent finger, she pointed toward the tiny speck of her suit in the distance.

  Not even bothering to try not to splash, Loralei headed for the shore.

  Suddenly, she felt naked. Oh, she’d been that way for a while, but she could feel the weight of Jackson’s gaze as it traveled from her calves to her thighs and then to her ass.

  She told herself not to, but she glanced behind her just in time to catch him wiping the water she’d splashed out of his face, even as he kept his eyes trained on her body. Lust suffused his every feature.

  Something primitive inside her responded.

  Which was precisely why she had to get away from him. They’d scratched an itch that had been irritating them both for the past couple days.

  That’s what had just happened and nothing more.

  She wouldn’t let it be anything more.

  Jackson made her nervous and frustrated. Not to mention he left her shaky with need. Out of control. That was what he did. He pushed her and cajoled and finagled and somehow managed to override her instincts to protect herself.

  Such as now. She was standing on the shore, staring, unable to pull her gaze away from the spectacle of him rising up to follow her.

  H
is body was amazing, all toned muscle and barely banked strength. It took little imagination to consider him as a lethal weapon. But she’d never seen any evidence that he was inclined to use that honed skill.

  Logically, she realized he must have at some point in his career. That realization should have made her wary. Instead, it made her want to wrap her arms around his body and hold him tight.

  Which was damn funny considering Jackson Duchane was the least likely man she’d ever met to require comfort or an infusion of strength.

  He was only a few steps away from her when Loralei managed to shake herself out of her stupor.

  She darted for the shorts and shirt she’d left in a bundle on the sand. Reaching down, she shook them out as best she could.

  Jackson’s strong arm wrapped around her from behind, pulling her into his body.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “Back.”

  He bent down, running his mouth up the sensitive slope of her neck. Loralei tilted, unconsciously giving him more and offering herself, even as she tried to wrap her arms around her waist and cover herself.

  “Why?”

  “Because...” She needed to escape. To think. To get back to reality and sanity. “I should get back to my crew.”

  “The crew that don’t know you’re gone?”

  “That won’t last long. Someone’s going to realize the launch is missing soon enough.”

  “Hmm.” The sound vibrated into her skin.

  The sensation was delicious and sent shivers rocking up and down her spine.

  His fingers wandered, digging into her hip, finding the curve of her breast, brushing across her flesh in a caress that left her skin tingling.

  How could she want more so soon?

  Loralei jerked herself out of his arms. She had her shirt over her head in seconds flat. The maneuver she used to get her shorts on was hardly elegant, hopping from one foot to the other. But it accomplished what she needed.

  Slowly, she backed away from him, inching toward her boat tied up farther down the shore.

  A frown tugged at the edges of Jackson’s mouth.

  “You’re really going to leave?”

  “Yes.” She was. Because she had to get away from him before she managed to lose every last shred of self-preservation.

  The temptation to stay was strong. Strong enough to scare her. She didn’t want to need anyone, least of all Jackson, for anything. Including physical pleasure.

  But what they’d just shared had been light years ahead of any sexual encounter she’d ever had. Most women would think that a good thing. Loralei wasn’t convinced.

  Maybe it was just the animosity that ran under the surface between them.

  Yeah, maybe that was it.

  “You’re just going to leave me here? Without any clothes? My trunks are in the middle of the ocean with your suit and I didn’t bring anything else.”

  Something akin to drunken bliss bubbled up inside Loralei’s chest, escaping as laughter. It was a good sensation.

  Which was why she shook her head.

  “Not my problem.”

  Without waiting for his response, she turned and sprinted for the boat.

  Part of her expected him to come after her. To snatch her up and use his persuasive mouth and hands to convince her to stay.

  But he didn’t. When she looked back, he was watching her, arms crossed comfortably over his chest like some naked lord of the island. All the man was missing was a crown fashioned from dried sea grass and encrusted with shells to complete the picture. His bronzed skin gleamed in the moonlight. Tiny droplets of water still glistened in his sandy blond hair.

  The entire ride back to the Emily that was all she could think about.

  And she had no idea what kept her from turning around and going back.

  10

  OKAY, SO SHE wasn’t cured.

  Loralei stood at the railing that ran the length of the deck, staring out at the ocean, and fought down the wave of nausea that threatened to have her dropping to her knees.

  She’d been fine, right up until the moment she’d leaned out and looked down.

  Why hadn’t the water bothered her last night? Was it just that she’d been so totally overwhelmed by Jackson’s charismatic presence and her own libido?

  Probably.

  Not to mention the inlet had been fairly shallow. She didn’t want to guess at the depth of the water the Emily was currently cutting through.

  Around her, the crew scurried from one point to another, doing whatever they needed to direct the ship and prepare for their next diving location. Early in the morning, they’d headed out from the inlet, confident that the only artifact left there was already on board.

  It hadn’t escaped her notice that the Amphitrite had already been gone.

  Apparently, it’d been Jackson’s turn to leave before dawn.

  Now why did that thought hurt?

  Not that it would take them long to catch up.

  What had happened last night had been a mistake. A result of her combined vulnerability and elation that never should have occurred. And wasn’t going to happen again.

  She and Jackson were water and oil. Or better yet, gasoline and a match, ready to flame up the moment they made contact.

  She’d seen the way Jackson’s eyes lit up any time he thought about the Chimera. The thrill of the chase. That’s what it was. She’d seen that same fever in her father’s eyes. Had resented it when he’d chosen the need for adventure over taking care of his frightened, grieving, lonely daughter.

  The last thing she wanted was to fall for an unavailable man, someone who wouldn’t be there for her when she needed him most.

  “Loralei, are you okay?” Brian slipped up beside her, wrapping a hand around her arm and pulling her straight. “You don’t look so hot. You aren’t getting seasick, are you?”

  His forehead wrinkled with worry. She hated to lie to him, but he’d offered her the perfect excuse and she’d be stupid not to take it.

  “Maybe a little,” she said. She didn’t have to fake the grimace that accompanied the words.

  “You didn’t before.”

  “I did. I just didn’t say anything.”

  “Well, that’s silly. There are things you could do. I’m sure one of the guys has patches or those wristbands that work with pressure points.”

  Loralei let a sickly smile slip across her lips. “I thought it would pass once I got used to being on the open water. But, yeah, maybe that would help.”

  “Why don’t you sit down over there while I ask around?”

  Loralei started to protest, but Brian had her moving across the deck in the direction of a bench that was close by.

  She tried not to lean into the comforting arm he wrapped around her waist. Or sigh with relief when the water was out of her line of sight and her stomach quit rolling. Okay, so she just couldn’t look directly down at it.

  With a hand on her shoulder, Brian urged her down onto the seat close to a huge tank of water bolted to a raised table. The entire thing was clear, giving her a perfect view of the artifact inside. Their conservation specialist had submerged the cannon in a bath of mostly freshwater mixed with a chemical to help wash away the salt. Without the treatment, the cannon would slowly crumble away to nothing once exposed to the air. Saltwater was not kind to metals.

  The minute Loralei’s eyes landed on the chipped and corroded metal resting inside, a thrill shot through her. Most people might not think of the cannon as beautiful—dingy with a crust of orange rust and barnacles after being submerged for 150 years—but it really was.

  Or rather, the story it told and its connection to the past were beautiful.

  “Is it the Chimera’s?” she asked, unable to keep the reverence and hope from her voice.

  “Without a single doubt,” Eric said.

  Excitement welled up. Loralei leaned closer, wanting a better look at the artifact. From across the deck one of the hands hollered her
name.

  Waving the interruption away, Loralei yelled back, “Not now, Luis. I’ll find you in a few minutes.”

  Turning her focus back to Eric, she raised a single eyebrow and silently asked him to finish.

  The glee in his eyes said he was only too happy to oblige. “Do you see these markings?” Dropping into a crouch beside the tank, he pointed to a discolored patch of metal toward the thicker end of the cannon. “Each gun was stamped with identifying markings. They’re often hard to make out, especially after over a hundred years in the water, but we were lucky. Your father found a manifest of everything aboard, including the weaponry. This cannon was listed.”

  Loralei couldn’t stop the whoop of glee that flew past her lips. She jumped up so quickly the crown of her head collided with Brian’s chin. She hadn’t been aware he was standing that close to her.

  Her exclamation of delight turned into a cry of pain. She grabbed her head and stumbled.

  Even with a hand pressed to the lower half of his face, Brian’s curses were clear enough that she got the gist. Several bright drops of blood seeped through his fingers.

  Cursing, Loralei stepped closer and peeled his hand away so she could get a good look.

  His nose didn’t appear to be broken and already the blood had slowed to a trickle.

  “I’m fine,” Brian said, his voice muffled and slightly strained. With a grimace, he pushed Loralei’s hand away from his face and wiped away the blood. But he didn’t let her go.

  Instead, he used their connection and her proximity to draw her closer. His other arm wrapped around her waist.

  It wasn’t the first time Brian had touched her, but something about the way he held her now made her feel uncomfortable. As if he was doing something wrong. Or she was, although she hadn’t asked him to invade her personal space.

  “We’re close,” he whispered into her ear. An unwanted and unpleasant shiver rocked her body. She tried to pull away, but he only let her put an inch or two between them.

  Looking down at her, he smiled. “Your dad would be proud.”

  A tight band constricted her chest at the mention of her father. She could just imagine his excitement. And the thought of sharing this moment with him... It overwhelmed her. Made her throat ache and her chest tighten.