In Too Deep

by Tracey Alvarez

  “You’re a teasing bastard,” she groaned around the chocolate.

  “Yep.” West stripped her panties off. “One chocolate left, Pipe.”

  He leaned down and kissed her again, loving the taste of chocolate and the tang that was uniquely Piper. “And you’ll have to work for it.”

  Licking his way down her delectable body, he paused only long enough to shuck off his pants and boxers, returning to kneel between her thighs.

  “I want to touch you,” she said.

  “You do touch me.”

  Piper’s hands glided up to his chest, her thumbs stroking his nipples before sliding down to trace the line of hair below his belly button.

  His breathing snagged. “God, you have no idea how you touch me.”

  West slid down her body, positioning his mouth right where he wanted to be. His fingers unfurled the delicate pink folds in front of him and he wrestled with the temptation to bury his lips there. He could make her come hard in minutes, but as he’d told her, there’d be no rushing tonight.

  West took his time, delighting in the soft, musky smell of her, the velvet taste of her arousal as he circled his tongue over the bundle of nerves at her core.

  Women could keep their chocolate. He’d take the heaven between Piper’s legs any day.

  “Please, West.” It wasn’t the first time she’d pleaded.

  He licked her again and slid two fingers inside. Piper moaned and he pinned her to the bed with his free hand to keep her writhing hips in position.

  “Like that, huh?” His cock pulsed, wanting desperately to replace his fingers as her inner muscles contracted. Seconds later, Piper cried out, her body jerking hard under his hands.

  West rolled on a condom and joined her, not giving Piper a chance to come down from her high before he thrust into her. Slick sweetness encased him as he palmed the curve of her ass and lifted her so he could drive deeper.

  God, she felt incredible.

  “West—”

  His name a shattered gasp on her lips he pulled back, teasing his cock at her swollen entrance until he had her undivided attention. Hazel eyes dueled with his, alternately begging and then demanding he take them over that last obstacle.

  Not yet.

  He stretched her arms over her head once more and explored her mouth with confident strokes of his tongue, at the same time sliding his hips forward.

  Tight, hot, and his.

  He trailed kisses along her jaw. “Watch me, baby. Don’t shut me out.”

  With slow, steady thrusts, West moved within her. The tension built layer upon layer, exquisite friction that inflamed every inch of him until his balls were about to explode from the pressure of holding back one mother of an orgasm. Liquid heat beneath him, Piper urged him faster, but he wouldn’t be rushed.

  He released Piper’s wrists, cupping her face in his hands and keeping their gazes entwined.

  “Why are you torturing me?” She shut her eyes and writhed beneath him, which did some erotic things to his trapped cock.

  West nibbled her bottom lip, touched her closed lids with gentle fingers. “No cheating. Keep them open and I’ll give you what you want.”

  Silky black lashes flickered open. “I want you.”

  Not enough. Not nearly enough.

  Because she owned him now, each disconnected part of his heart made whole by her claiming. There was no retreat, so he didn’t hold anything back. Frustration, need, desire, denial, desperation.

  Love.

  Everything he had inside, he gave to her. Trapped by her soul-filled eyes, West let go, trusting instinct and emotion to carry them both home.

  ***

  Piper drew her legs higher around his hips as he thrust into her, another languid pulse of pleasure spiralling outward from her core.

  West rolled them over until she sat astride him, then reared up so she was seated impaled in his lap—eye to eye, nose to nose, mouth to mouth. He cupped her jaw and kissed her again, pulling back a fraction so that when he breathed out, she sipped his breath into her lungs. He surrounded her, completed and filled her.

  And it was his absolute focus as he moved gently within her that stirred the first flutters of another orgasm deep inside. How could she hold on to her resolve, when to look at his face emptied everything out of herself, except him?

  When he gave her that killer smile, and said “Come with me, baby,” she quit fighting the inevitable. West asked for her heart and she handed it over without a murmur of protest. But could he see it? Could he tell by their visual connection she’d taken that last step and fallen in love with him?

  Before Piper could figure it out, the staggering wave of her second climax slammed into her. She cried out West’s name, letting his endless blue eyes take her into the abyss.

  ***

  No wandering hands or lingering kisses woke West the next morning.

  Instead, the growl of an outboard motor and a male voice hollering his name snatched him from a very pleasant dream. He’d been about to do Piper on his kitchen table, so being woken by someone requesting to board The Mollymawk pissed him off no end.

  What pissed him off more was the tangle of naked limbs sprawled across his body shifting away as Piper woke. She stumbled out of bed, taking the sheet with her, leaving him bare assed, his good-morning-sunshine hard-on waving.

  She wound the sheet around her body and tucked the ends in the notch made by some delectable cleavage. Catching his gaze on her breasts, Piper hiked the sheet higher.

  “Well?” she said in that snitty tone he’d come to adore. “It’s not like I can get Mum’s dress on before our visitor boards.”

  He stretched, satisfied at the way Piper’s gaze honed in on a certain part of his anatomy. If he hadn’t recognized Noah’s voice and figured the cop wouldn’t be paying them an early visit to congratulate him on being one of the studs at the auction last night, he would’ve stormed out of the stateroom and told Noah to take a hike.

  Footsteps squeaked in the hallway followed by a sharp rap on their door. “You in there, West?”

  Since he and Noah and Ben were mates, Noah didn’t feel the need to adhere to the concept of receiving permission in order to trespass his cop-ass all over Ben’s boat.

  “Yeah, hang on, Noah. Let me get some pants on, for Christ’s sake.” West rolled off the bed, sending Piper, who’d abandoned the sheet for his shirt, a sorrowful look.

  Acres of velvety skin disappeared under his shirt as she buttoned it up. Damn. Twenty minutes and he could have her twined around him, panting and screaming his name again.

  A pregnant pause from outside the door and a muffled rumble as Noah cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to wake you too, Piper.”

  A blush rose from below the collar of his shirt, staining Piper’s neck a rosy pink.

  “Crap,” she mouthed.

  Did she really think anyone left on Oban didn’t know the score after last night’s bidding war?

  “It’s fine, Noah,” Piper called out, while half bent over and flinging periwinkle stalks aside.

  His shirt crept further up her thighs as she ducked down to peer under a chair. God, what a sight. West scooped up the scrap of red lace from beside the bed and dangled it under her nose before holding it high out of her reach. “Looking for these?”

  Piper tickled his ribs until he relented and dropped her panties. She snatched them up before they hit the floor, hurling a look that could crack the eggs he’d planned to make her for breakfast. “You’re a funny guy, Westlake.”

  “Baby, I live to make you laugh.”

  “Get your pants on and go see what Noah wants.” She turned away—but not before he’d caught a glimpse of curving lips.

  West grinned back and yanked on his rumpled suit pants. “Yes, dear.”

  “Bite me,” came the muttered reply, as Piper vanished into the tiny en suite and slammed the door.

  West stepped outside their room. Noah, dressed in his police blues, leaned against the opposite wal
l. He spoke into his phone, harsh lines carved into his forehead.

  Something serious had happened and here West was, underdressed for the occasion.

  Noah disconnected and met West’s gaze. “I’ll buy you a beer in apology later, mate, but this is important. I need to speak to Piper too.”

  West’s stomach dropped to his knees and he sucked in a harsh breath. “Did something happen to her family?” he murmured, with a quick glance over his shoulder.

  Noah shook his head. “Nothing like that. They’re fine—they’re all fine.”

  West held up a finger. “Then give me a minute to grab her some spare clothes. She’s not a morning person and she won’t be happy to greet you in her current get-up.”

  Noah sent him a crooked smile. “Don’t get distracted.”

  Ten minutes later they found Noah on the aft studying the filler cap of The Mollymawk’s fuel tank. Piper had swapped his shirt for the spare tee shirt and shorts she kept in the single cabin.

  Noah’s expression had Piper’s gaze flat-lining into pure, concentrated cop. “Tell us.”

  “We’ve got a missing person. Gavin Reynolds.”

  “And you’re here because…?” West said.

  Noah directed his next words at Piper. “Gav had a run-in with your brother last night before the ball. Kezia provided me with a statement that Gav inappropriately touched her in the parking lot. Ben found them and intervened.”

  “Son of a bitch,” Piper hissed.

  Son of a bitch, all right. West gritted his teeth and focused his gaze on the sea. Good thing Gav was missing, because when he woke up with a hangover under some tree he’d be the center of a shit-storm of hurt. He and Ben would see to that—and it sounded like Ben had already given him lesson number one.

  “By ‘intervened,’ you mean Ben beat the shit out of him,” said West.

  “In a manner of speaking.” Noah shoved his hands into his uniform pants. “Gav’s mate, Trent, contacted me early this morning. Told me Gav planned to row out to The Mollymawk last night and dump sugar in the tank. He sat in the park and watched Gav in his dinghy head off at around ten, and then passed out on the bench. He didn’t see him make it to the boat and when he woke at sunrise, the dinghy hadn’t been returned to its usual spot.” Noah paused, rocking back on his heels. “And we all know how anal Gav is about his ‘spot.’”

  “Understatement.” A slow curl of unease wound through West’s body. “Trent went to his house?”

  “Yeah. Gav wasn’t there.”

  “The dickhead could’ve contacted you before Gav went out on his revenge mission.” Piper walked over to the gas tank and bent over for a closer look. “You’ve already organized a house to house?”

  Noah nodded. “No sign of him yet. Thought I’d better check The Mollymawk to see if he’d made it out here.”

  “We arrived at about half-eleven last night and everything was locked up,” West said. “We didn’t see any sign of Gav’s dinghy when we rowed out.”

  Noah ran through more questions, ending with a thorough examination of the gas tank, which didn’t appear to have been tampered with.

  “Ben said Gav was drunk, reeking of Jack Daniel’s. He likely didn’t make it this—” Noah’s phone trilled Bob Marley’s “Bad Boys.” He answered, listened, and then quick-fired instructions. Disconnecting with an, “On it,” Noah swore. “Old Smitty’s just called it in. He found Gav’s dinghy drifting about a mile offshore.”

  “No Gav?” Piper said.

  “No Gav,” Noah agreed. He shoved the phone back into his pocket. “Right. I’ve got to go back to base and coordinate with Search and Rescue and organize the locals so they aren’t buzzing aimlessly all over the bays.” He glanced at Piper. “I know you’re not on duty, but can you contact the dive squad and put them on alert?”

  Piper’s lips thinned into a pale line, but she nodded. “I’ll get on it.”

  West hooked an arm around her shoulders. “Count us in with the water search, Noah. We’ll take my Daisy.”

  “Thanks.”

  Once Noah left, West tugged Piper into his arms. For a few moments, her body strained against his, but then she relented, threading her arms around his waist and holding on.

  With anyone else he’d come up with platitudes like, “Maybe Gav swam back to shore,” or “Perhaps Trent got it wrong.” He stroked a hand over her hair, felt the shudder sweep through her. But Piper knew better than anyone the likelihood of finding Gavin-the-bloody-idiot Reynolds alive.

  Chapter 18

  A cool breeze ruffled Piper’s damp hair as the launch chugged to the next search area. She squinted past her boss’s shoulder into the darkening sky. Sunset was an hour away and this would be their last dive of the day.

  The Police Dive Squad had arrived this morning, after yesterday’s land and sea search failed to locate Gav. Locals scoured the bays and beaches for hours, grim-lipped with the knowledge the ocean’s low temperatures meant Gav’s survival would be a major miracle.

  Piper had greeted her buddies at the airfield and drove them to Oban’s tiny police station for their first briefing. A cluster of locals watched as the five men climbed out of the borrowed van and Oban’s one official police utility vehicle. Everyone knew when police divers hit town, the search switched from locate and rescue, to body retrieval. If they could even find him.

  Her hands hadn’t stopped trembling since she first donned her wetsuit earlier.

  “You okay for the last shift, Piper?” Tom leaned back on the bench and took a swig from his water bottle.

  Had he missed her shaking hands each time she’d resurfaced? Did he buy her “freaking cold water” explanation? Maybe.

  Piper slicked back her hair and shrugged. “Totally. I don’t know if Buck can handle another one though—looks like he’s been hitting the KFC while I’ve been away.” She jabbed her elbow into the rock-solid abs of the officer slouched next to her.

  “You’ll keep, girlie.” David “Buck” Rogers, a six-foot something Maori, lifted his mirrored shades long enough to send her a wink.

  Laughter and good-natured heckling erupted around her. She’d missed her guys—Buck, Paulie, Mac, Trigger, and even Tom. The five of them—half of their squad remained in Wellington in case another call came in—had worked through some awful cases together. While none of them would claim to be world-class divers, they prided themselves in their ability to get the job done as a team.

  Ten minutes later Piper dived with Buck and Trigger at her side. The wind had picked up, stirring sand and sediment through the water, so visibility was iffy. All part of the job—it was a rare day when the squad could claim the luxury of ideal conditions.

  Piper finned toward the sea bed. Their last grid search would take place in water fifty feet deep and according to Tom’s calculations, if they didn’t find Gav before the tides turned again, the recovery odds grew even slimmer. Piper didn’t want to be the one to relay this fact to Peter Reynolds, who still scoured the beaches hoping to find his son alive.

  Foveaux Strait had taken many lives and sometimes the dead never returned from her volatile depths, her father a classic example.

  Piper thrust that thought from her mind. Thinking of her dad’s death was almost a knee-jerk reaction, given what she was now doing in this stretch of ocean. In her time on the squad she’d never been assigned to a recovery operation further south than Invercargill. She imagined that Tom, who knew her history since he’d been one of the divers searching for Michael Harland, had engineered that.

  When she met him at the airfield he’d given her the look. The are you up to this kid look. And she’d nodded, knowing before he even requested her assistance what he’d planned.

  She could do this. She’d trained to do this. She just had to focus.

  Steadying her breathing, she continued to sink into the murky depths.

  Piper reached the sea floor, her fins stirring up even more silt. Visibility? What visibility. This dive would be like looking for a needl
e in a haystack, or finding Where’s Waldo?—every sarcastic cliché she could think of to distract her mind from what she was doing: hoping to discover the body of a man she’d known since childhood.

  Time became meaningless as Piper worked the grid. She relied solely on her sense of touch, because outside her mask swirling eddies of sand and silt clouded what little vision she had in the light of her dive torch. The currents buffeted her, the harsh rasp of her breathing and the blood soughing past her eardrums the only sounds.

  Her right hand, sweeping in a slow arc, nudged something solid. She moved her left hand to join the right and it skimmed over the distinctive shape of a foot. Moving closer, Piper squinted through the haze. She didn’t need the visual confirmation, but the ghostly flicker of a white shirt in the light of her torch confirmed it anyway. She’d found Gav.

  With three sharp tugs of her swim-line, Piper signaled that the victim had been located. Tears pricked in the corners of her lids and she kept them back by sheer will, but the icy clutch of panic waited for a sliver of opportunity to rip years of training from her grasp.

  Sucking air like she was down to her final few ounces, she whipped her head around at a flash of black to her left. It was only Trigger and Buck finning to her side, but the loaded bolt of adrenaline blazing through her system made her want to vomit.

  She gripped the torch, the handle ridges jabbing into her palm even through the layer of neoprene.

  She had to get out of there, before millions of tons of seawater crushed her to a pulp.

  Her movements jerky, Piper floundered and grabbed Buck’s arm, signaling with her other hand that something was wrong. She owed it to her team to let them know—this time she’d swallow her pride.

  Buck took one look at her, and after ascertaining her equipment functioned correctly, gave her a thumbs up instruction to ascend. She didn’t consider arguing.

  Trigger indicated he’d stay with the victim until a fresh diver could be sent down and Buck signaled on the swim-line to let Tom know divers were heading up. Buck watched her like a mother cat as they finned toward the surface, and the solidarity of his presence along with his paw-like grip on her hand acted like a shot of sedative. At the safety stop, she returned his querying “okay?” with an almost honest “okay” signal of her own.