She furrowed her brow. She couldn’t understand a word being said, but it sounded serious. Like a news announcement. Sirens wailed in the background. They were different from the sirens in New York, the sound more plaintive and a little breathless.
“Is there a massive car pileup or something?” she asked.
Koenraad shook his head. “No.” He seemed distracted as he handed her a plate and a cold smoothie, then pressed a kiss to the top of her head. His soft lips lingered there.
She’d never known this kind of kiss could feel so intimate. Possibly his large hand curving possessively around the back of her neck had something to do with that.
He released her and turned back to the counter. She took a moment to appreciate the stretching of his muscles as he swept the pineapple scraps into the trash.
Not a bad view, though breakfast in bed would have been nicer. If she’d been allowed to choose one or the other, she’d have opted for the bed part. Definitely.
Oh well.
She took a sip of the smoothie and found it a perfect balance of tart and sweet.
Koenraad switched off the radio. “That was an update of an earlier news story. Three tourists drowned this morning.”
Her throat tightened as she remembered struggling for air, the burning in her lungs… She’d almost drowned. If not for Koenraad—
“Monroe?” He was watching her, concerned.
She tried to school her face into a neutral expression, but she felt a frown pulling at her lips. “That’s awful. Did their boat capsize?”
“No. I thought the same thing when I first turned on the radio because I’d caught it mid-story. But they weren’t on a boat. They weren’t together at all.”
Her frown deepened. “What do you mean?”
“Three separate drowning incidents.”
The hammering of her heartbeat thundered in her ears. “That’s not normal. Is it? I mean, accidents happen, but…”
“It’s highly unusual when the weather is calm, but it sounds like a coincidence.” He spoke slowly, giving her the impression that he didn’t quite believe it himself.
“I… want to thank you again for saving my life, for taking the risk. And for trusting me.”
A dark look fell across his face. “There was no risk. A panicking swimmer can’t accidentally drown me. So stop thanking me. I brought you out there and promised to keep you safe. I’ll protect you every time. Without hesitation.” Despite the certainty of his words and his tone, she sensed he was upset about something.
Perhaps he was angry with her. All he’d asked her to do was hold her breath for thirty seconds. Surely he realized that it wasn’t like she’d wanted to freak out when the fish scraped against her calf, feeling like it planned to take off her leg at the knee. She’d been startled.
“There was nothing to think about, Monroe. I will never let anything happen to you.”
She felt her face coloring. “What I mean is—”
“You think it’s your fault.” An anguished look transformed his refined features. Without the mask of confidence he wore, he looked lost and far younger than his thirty years.
“It’s hardly your fault,” she pointed out.
He grabbed his smoothie and tapped the glass against hers. “Don’t you like it?” he asked, then drank deeply.
It’d be easier to drink if I didn’t have whiplash from the sudden change of conversation. But she took a long, hearty draught, all the while watching him over the top of the glass. Koenraad was unfairly good-looking. She’d been struck by how handsome he was the first time she set eyes on him, when he’d been her prince on a shining white yacht. The other thing she’d noticed was how confident he was, how in control, and she was learning that he kept a tight grip on himself at all times.
She wished she knew him well enough to guess what he was thinking now. Or, better yet, for him to trust her enough to share whatever weight seemed to burden him when she least expected it.
He seemed on the verge of adding something, but then he stopped. It was a habit of his, she was starting to realize. He was a great conversationalist, but he didn’t reveal much. At dinner, he’d effortlessly steered the discussion so that by the end of the night, it seemed he knew everything about her.
All she’d learned in return was that they shared the only child thing but that he, unlike her, had always wanted a younger sibling.
“I don’t keep the refrigerators stocked,” he was saying now, “but we can drive into town—”
A ringing phone cut him off. “Sorry,” he said. “I have to get that.” And he was gone.
She’d been downgraded from breakfast in bed, to eating in the kitchen, to eating alone. It’d have been funny if it weren’t so sad.
She turned the radio back on and sat at the table with her breakfast. The radio was now playing what she assumed were ads. She smiled. Apparently, commercials the world over were delivered in mile-a-minute speech with manic music that made her want to cover her ears. Advertising, it seemed, was universal.
Koenraad’s smoothie was more satisfying with every swallow. The bagel, on the other hand… yech. Freezer burned and stale.
Monroe went to the refrigerator, swung open the massive stainless steel door. The inside was desolate. Some ketchup, a few beers, a block of cheese. She expected tumbleweeds to blow across the shelves.
The cheese passed inspection, so she sliced off a few pieces to add to her bagel, then poured herself a cup of steaming coffee. Koenraad was gone long enough that she was finishing the last of her dry sandwich when he returned.
His face had settled back into that unreadable mask. She swallowed. When he got all focused like this, it reminded her of the predator inside.
“Good news,” he said, but his lack of expression said the opposite.
“Sure about that?” She ran her finger around the inside of the glass, trying to scoop up every last drop of the smoothie.
Koenraad looked at her, really looked, and a brief smile flashed across his face. Someone needed to convince him to smile more often.
“Let me frame this better,” he said. “Good news and less good news. Things at work are a bit busy right now, but I don’t have to work until tomorrow. In short, we’ve got the day together.” He poured himself coffee and downed half of it as he leaned up against the refrigerator. Even relaxed, his body looked carved of stone.
“And what’s the bad news?”
“Who said anything about bad news? Less good.” He grinned, his sculpted, male-model face turning from gorgeously sterile to radiant. Either way, he had a commanding presence. Merely being in the same room with him could, and did, make her shiver.
“You ok?” he asked. His expression had turned wary, and she wondered if he was able to somehow sense her moods. She sincerely hoped not, because if he could, he would know exactly how attracted to him she was and how often she thought about sex—which was pretty much all the time when he was around. It was either sex or that panic-tinged curiosity.
“I’m all ears,” she said, forcing herself to stay calm. “What’s the less good news?”
He came and caught her around the waist, his palms practically burning through the silk robe. Lifting her easily, he set her on a clean stretch of counter that was cool under her thighs.
Monroe stopped breathing, and it wasn’t because she was afraid of the suddenly hungry look in his eyes.
“Let me start over.” He parted her knees and stood between her legs. His fingers digging into the robe’s silky fabric, into her hips, he pulled her close until her body was pressing steadily against his. “I’ve got great news.” His voice was low and breathy.
She stared up into his eyes. The irises were an unnaturally dark blue with a ring of lighter blue around them. Objectively, they were gorgeous. Subjectively, the dilation of his pupils was the stuff of nightmares. They were a predator’s eyes, large, able to catch the smallest glimpse of movement.
“Whatever you’re worrying about, stop,” he said in
a hoarse whisper. “You’ve been making me jumpy all morning.”
Before she could ask what the hell that was supposed to mean, he caught her bottom lip between his teeth and bit hard enough to make her nipples tighten, to bring her attention to the large, virile body pressed up against hers.
One of his hands slid up her back, his splayed fingers pushing on her shoulder blade, urging her closer. Her breasts jutted forward, the movement opening the silky robe.
She brought her legs up, wrapped them around his waist.
He growled, and when she giggled, he silenced her with a deep kiss that had her rocking her hips into him.
“You taste like coffee,” he said as he ended his kiss. He wrapped his arms around her and easily carried her out the kitchen, down the long hallway, and back up the stairs.
She buried her face in his neck. The idea of him, of what he was, scared her, and maybe that would never change. But she felt safe in Koenraad’s arms. That had to count for something.
He pushed open a door, and she raised her head. He’d completely bypassed the bed, and now they were in the enormous master bathroom. It was nice and everything, but the bed would be a lot more comfortable…
“The other part of the good news is that we get to take a boat trip to the mainland,” he said. There was a slightly apprehensive look on his face as he lowered her.
“That sounds great,” she said truthfully as she took a step back so she could more easily see his face.
“It’s a bit of work I’m doing off the books. I’ve got… a friend who works at a lab, and I want him to examine some water samples.”
“I thought you were in security.”
“It’s a security issue. I’m afraid the trip will take most of the day, so we won’t have time for sightseeing. Assuming you want to come at all. Obviously you don’t have to.”
Did he have any idea what she would be doing if she were in New York? Yelling at distributers, appeasing angry customers, teeth chattering in the winter cold. “You forget that all of this is new to me,” she pointed out.
“The view of the ocean is likely to get monotonous pretty quickly,” he said. “I would fly, but I don’t want this trip on the record. By boat, I can get in and out and no one will know.”
“It honestly sounds like fun,” she insisted.
“I’ve got to take care of something before we go. I should be back in an hour and a half. You know the security codes on the gates, so if you want to take a car, feel free. Keys are in the ignitions.”
She looked around the huge bathroom. “I think I’ll manage.”
The relief on Koenraad’s face made her feel a little guilty. He’d begged her to extend her trip, but that didn’t mean he was responsible for entertaining her every second of every day.
“Can you spare five minutes?” she asked.
His smile and slow, knowing nod did dangerous things to her heart. She wondered if he knew how gorgeous he was. It was tempting to ask, but instead she groped for the hardness distorting his boxers. She wrapped her fingers around his girth. Silken warmth surged between her legs.
“The sooner I leave, the sooner I’m back,” he said, but there wasn’t much conviction in his voice.
“Then we’ll be fast.” Her hands fumbled with the elastic of his boxers. The day before, she’d tried to give him a blow job but he’d pushed her away, and instead he’d licked her pussy like he couldn’t get enough. Twice now he’d gone down on her, his mouth bestowing countless orgasms, but she hadn’t been able to return the favor. Yet.
She sank to her knees in front of him.
“Monroe,” he said, his voice hoarse. “You—”
She sucked the bulbous, thick head of his cock into her mouth, and his protest turned into a long groan.
His hand settled on her head, and she could feel that he wanted to push her away. But the weight stayed there, and soon he was guiding her with a gentle but firm touch, urging her deeper onto his shaft.
The man liked to take control in bed, and Monroe didn’t mind. It was a refreshing change from Thomas, who wanted to sit there and think about his stock portfolios while she bobbed on him until she went numb.
Her mouth grew wetter as she sucked, and the salty-sweet flavor of him swirled on her tongue. He tasted… amazing.
She made a satisfied sound deep in her throat as he pressed deeper. She wanted him to come in her mouth, to lose control. Hell, she craved it, and she didn’t even like giving oral. Rubbing her tongue over the head of his cock, she vigorously worked his shaft, squeezing the base in her fist. The robe was fully open now, and it slowly slipped off her shoulders.
“Oh god—” He roughly jerked away, both his hands on her head. “Monroe.”
He pulled her to standing, and she blinked up at him, her heart sinking.
“Did I bite you? Scrape you with my teeth, I mean…” Because while she wasn’t a superstar at giving oral, she knew she hadn’t clamped down on him.
“No,” he said. “No, and even if you did… it wouldn’t hurt me.”
“I’m too gentle? You want me to bite?”
“I do like it rough,” he admitted without a trace of shame, the look in his eyes making her pussy tighten involuntarily. “But that’s not the reason I stopped you.”
“Then why?”
He shook his head, looked away. “It’s complicated.”
Monroe felt like she’d been slapped. “But…” She tried to think how to phrase her question. She was willing to do whatever he wanted, but asking him for instructions on giving a blow job didn’t come easily.
He tucked his cock inside his boxers, and Monroe’s heart finally reached the floor. So that was that.
He didn’t like her mouth. The realization left her raw, exposed, and not in a fun way.
Turning abruptly away, he pushed a button next to the light switch, and part of the marbled wall slid up, revealing a television as thin as a sheet of paper. “There’s a remote control panel there,” he said, indicating the wall next to the whirlpool. “I can have someone come out and give you a massage if you like,” he said.
“I don’t need a massage.” It came out frosty.
Koenraad’s reaction to her tone—a soft but sad smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes—wasn’t what she’d expected given how abruptly he’d shut her down a few moments earlier. “It’s not you,” he said. “I… think I’ll need to explain some things to you. Later. Things about me, about sex with shifters. Because there’s more than you’ve seen.” He cupped her chin and forced her to meet his gaze. His eyebrows were raised in a silent question.
“Ok.”
“Good. And so we’re clear, you’re irresistible. When I looked down and saw you sucking my cock… you don’t know how difficult it was, and is, to control myself.” He inhaled, and his pupils dilated even as the look on his face darkened. “I want to let go with you. I do. But I can’t.”
He held her gaze until her breath stuttered out. “I… guess my female pride can accept that,” she said.
Still holding her chin, he kissed her. Now that wasn’t fair. He was too damn sexy, especially when he pulled her closer into his hard, muscular body. She slid her hands up, gliding over his sculpted abs, her left palm running over the ridge of his scar, her right palm skimming his hard chest until she could lace her fingers behind his neck. He was so tall that she had to stand on tiptoe, but then he hunched down and caught her face in both his large hands, deepening the kiss and making her tremble all over.
It wasn’t just the attraction that made her quiver, either. It was relief; no man kissed a woman like this unless he meant it. The kiss was a promise… with perhaps a hint of threat.
He pulled away with a breathy growl, and his blue eyes pierced hers. She returned his stare, not caring how exposed and naked she felt under his gaze. She didn’t believe in soul mates, and in fact thought the whole concept was rather cheesy, but the way she felt when Koenraad looked at her… it was the only thing that came to mind.
In fact, soul mates seemed too weak.
Suddenly uncomfortable, she ran a hand lightly down the front of his boxers, more to distract herself than him.
He was every bit as hard as he’d been earlier.
“Guilty,” he said. “You’re irresistible.” He cleared his throat, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “At the risk of getting smacked, might I humbly request that you wear your teeny floral bikini under your clothes?”
“I was planning to go completely au naturel,” she said. “Even out my tan lines. But since you want me clothed…”
The stunned look on his face was clearly exaggerated, but she burst out laughing. She tipped up on her toes to kiss him goodbye. She really didn’t want him to leave. The mansion was nice, but when he was gone, it was just a big, empty building.
So why stay? She didn’t need a chaperone to explore.
“Can I borrow one of your bikes?” she asked, following him out of the bathroom. “Assuming you weren’t joking.” It had come up at dinner. She’d said that having a car in New York was about as useful as a fish having a bicycle, and that had amused him. He’d replied that the original quote was “A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle,” and he’d asked if she was trying to tell him something. While she’d blushed and stammered, he’d told her that he had several bikes, and shark shifters liked bikes just fine. Then he’d unleashed that sexy smile of his, and her embarrassment had turned to lava-hot, liquid desire for him. They hadn’t been able to do anything about it because they were in public.
“Of course you can,” he said. “I’ll leave one at the front door. A tip, though: stay on the paved roads unless you like fixing flats.”
“Thought maybe I’d go into town. If it’s not far?”
“I’d say about thirty minutes. Go left at the end of the driveway. You’ll see signs to town in about fifteen minutes. Though if you’re feeling adventurous, go right instead. You’ll have the road to yourself this time of day, and there are some nice views of dunes and the ocean.”
She checked out his broad shoulders and muscular ass as he quickly dressed in linen pants and a light blue linen shirt. A body like his should be illegal. Even after he left, she couldn’t get his image out of her mind.
Master of the Deep Page 2