Riptide (35 page)

Hands on her hips, he dragged her against his erection. Her hands in his hair. His on her sweet ass. The pounding water scalding hot. Pounding. Sluicing over their heads. Sheeting their faces. Lips fused.

Her shiver as he ran his finger down the crease of her ass. His shudder as her fingers closed around his length and guided him to her.

Nick cupped the cheeks of her ass, lifting her. Positioning her.

She tightened her arms around his neck, and wound her long silky legs around his waist.

The thump of her back as he pressed her to the cool mosaic wall.

The hot wet glide as he slid inside her to the hilt. So exquisite neither could bear to move. Her body tightened inexorably around his length.

“Gabriella…” He flexed his hips, his climax close. Intense. Earth-shattering. Once more. Pounding into her unbearable. Perfect. Heat.

Hope. Again. Harder. Deep. Faster.

Bria taking every bold stroke. Her gasps. His. Wordless communication, drenched in need. Head thrown back in wild abandon. Teeth sharp on his shoulder. Nails scoring his back. Heels drumming at his waist as she arched for deeper contact.

“I love you. I love you I love you.” Her cries echoed through the steam-filled room. Echoed and reverberated deep in his chest.

Limp, exhausted, he carried her to his bed, tumbling her on the crisp white sheets. He was still inside her, and they fell asleep that way, the sunset painting the white room in spectacular Technicolor.

*   *   *

He wasn’t asleep this time; Bria could practically hear Nick’s brain working. They’d fallen asleep like two puppies. But they hadn’t slept long. An hour maybe. Then he’d rolled her over and started kissing his way down her body.

He’d been insatiable, and in the past hour they’d made love twice, desperately, and almost wordlessly.

She got it. For Mr. Spock, this had been a day filled with far too much emotion. She stroked his hair. Poor baby, he just wasn’t equipped to handle it.

Her lips curved. He’d learn. She’d teach him.

And she had faith that he and Jonah would work it out.

He was lying on her arm, which had gone to sleep, but she combed her fingers through his hair, loving the silky feel of it drifting between her fingers. Loving petting him. God, she mentally rolled her eyes. Loving
him
. How on earth had that happened?

“You don’t have to stay. I’ve got the Bersa, and there’s a solid lock on the door. I’ll be fine by myself if you have places to be.”

“I want my phone. But I’ll call for it.” He rolled off the mattress and got to his feet, unconcerned about his nudity, which was awesome for Bria because he was deliciously sexy to look at. All bronzed muscle and hairy chest. Her eyes lowered to his penis, which was semi-erect and still happy to see her. “Oh, no you don’t, woman,” he said, not smiling even though little bright blue flares sparked in his eyes. “If you had your way we’d be in here until morning. Stay put, take another nap.”

He was back to Spock. Unemotional and detached. The only way he knew how to handle things.

Bria stretched her arms over her head and arched her back. Oh yeah, those flares smoldered. “Extremely rude, Cutter. Snap out of your pissy attitude when you have a naked woman in your bed. A naked willing woman.”

The strain around his eyes lessened as she’d meant it to do. He pressed a quick, hot kiss to her lips, then picked up the phone by the bed. His Bluetooth lay right beside it. But he wasn’t communicating with Jonah.

“Khoi? Oh, Basim. I left my cell phone on the chart table in the pilothouse. Yeah. Right away. While you’re at it, bring a pot of coffee—”

“And brownies.”

This time he did smile. It was strained, but his lips curved as he sat down beside her hip, then muttered, “To hell with it,” and rolled over on top of her. “And brownies.” He reached out and tossed the phone on the bedside table with a clatter. It bounced onto the floor

“That’ll take at least ten minutes. What do you wanna do while we wait?”

It actually took the steward twelve, but they were still rolling around on the bed when there was a brisk knock on the door. “Tell him I changed my mind. Brownies. Later.”

Nick cupped her cheek. He was still hard inside her, and her body was clenching around him as the last orgasm faded. Easing out of her, he threw his legs over the side of the bed and stood, leaving Bria in a very vulnerable position.

Still aroused.

She closed her legs and sat up to grab the sheet.

“Leave the tray outside, I’ll get it in a minute.” Nick called, grabbing the robe she’d left on the floor when she’d gone into the bathroom earlier.

She shot him an inquiring look.

“I’m not taking any chances. The Sig and Bersa are both in the office.” He held up a hand, and they listened to footsteps retreat down the hall outside.

Nick went into his office, and returned with both guns. He placed the Bersa on the bedside table, picked up the dropped house phone, then went to open the door with the Sig pointed into the corridor.

Stacking the pillows behind her, Bria waited for him to lock the door and come back to bed.

He looked distracted, and she figured he’d had enough calisthenics for the day. She tossed back the sheet and stood beside the bed. “I’m going to grab another quick sh—”

The phone in his hand rang once. “Cutter. Jesus. About time! Where the hell— Yeah. Fine. Good or bad?” He walked to the window, bracing his shoulder on the glass. “You’re positive?”

Bria strolled into the bathroom, leaving the door open. Just as she turned the water on, she heard Nick say. “Draven Visconti. You’re positive?”

Oh, God! Now what the hell had Draven done? Her brother was a damned menace to society. She tiptoed to the door, even though Nick’s back was turned, and he couldn’t see her. She used her fingertips to push the door so it closed a few inches.

“Wait. Just wait a second,” Nick plunged his fingers through his hair in such an atypical gesture that Bria’s entire body went on red alert. “Draven Visconti? The king of Marrezo is the linchpin for the diamond smuggling operation?”

Bria grabbed the edge of the door as her knees buckled. No. No. No.

*   *   *

“That’s ins— Yeah. I’m sure you are,” Nick said tightly, as he went to the closet and yanked out jeans. A dark blue T-shirt. Socks. Boxers. He switched the phone from ear to ear as necessary as he dressed. “You found him in Rome?” Nick paused. “Then where the hell
is
he? Someone tried to kill me on the island. Was he responsible?” Another long pause. “Then goddamn find out. And while you’re doing that, send someone to get her off my fucking ship. You have an hour!
Three!
You’re shitting me!” He paused, then snarled, “I don’t give a flying fuck. You got me involved in this screwup.
Do
it.”

He hung up.

Bria couldn’t breathe.

“Come out of that bathroom, Princess.”

She opened the door and stepped into the bedroom. Unlike Nick, she was naked. She’d never felt more exposed and vulnerable in her life. She lifted her chin, and met his eyes dead-on. “I had no idea.”

“Is that so?” his voice was soft and measured, and didn’t fool her for a second. Beneath that ice-thin veneer, Nick Cutter was simmering on a roiling boil. He shoved the phone into his back pocket. “You show up at the café where two of your brother’s associates are negotiating with me to bring seventy-five million dollars of uncut, conflict diamonds on board—”

“Diamonds that I knew nothing about until you told me a few hours ago!”

“How long have you been involved in this? How fucking long,
Principessa
? They sent you precisely because you’re exactly the type I fuck. And they chose well, didn’t they? You seemed to enjoy your work, didn’t you? Or was that all part of the con? Were all those moans and little sounds you made genuine, or learned responses for the mark?”

“Do you hear how irrational you sound?
Think
for a second, Nick. Why would Halkias try to kill
me
if I was involved?”

“Because you recognized him.”

“I agree. But not for the reason you think. I think he was shocked to see me here, because I’m
not
involved.”

“Convoluted as hell.”

“The truth frequently is. Now that I know Draven is the one who’s behind the diamond smuggling, Halkias trying to kill me, the landslide—neither made sense before. But now that we know it was my
brother
who instigated you bringing the diamonds on board, it suddenly does.”

“Not to me.”

“Draven didn’t know I was coming on board to ask you for his money back. Draven had no idea I was on board. When Halkias saw me, he must’ve panicked. And when I took you to Marrezo, Draven must’ve believed that we were on to him. He was determined to stop us—you—from telling the other people involved.”

“Very neat.” It was. Almost too neat. But that might be emotion trying to control reality. He wanted to believe that she wasn’t involved. But his knee-jerk right now was blind fury, and a gut-deep sense of betrayal. He had to get away from her pale lips and big beseeching eyes to think rationally.

“Nick. Stop.
Think
, please! My brother is an idiot, but just because we’re related doesn’t mean
I’m
involved in his machinations!”

He picked up the Bersa from the table beside the bed.

“God. Are you going to shoot me?”

“I wish I could be as cold-blooded as you are. Unfortunately, even
I
can’t be that reptilian. Get your shit together—only the things you brought on board. When Aries’s people get here, I want you gone.”

“Nick—”

“Aries will debrief you. Unfortunately for me, they’re five hours away. You’ve got that much time to get your story straight. If you leave this cabin, I
will
shoot you.” He didn’t slam the door behind him, but the air around her felt the percussion anyway.

Bria sank onto the foot of the bed. The sheets were half stripped because they’d rolled around, and smelled musky.

She believed that if not for his unnatural control, that Nick would’ve shot her, he was so mad.

Her heart was pounding so hard her vision was pulsing with every hard thump. “I’m going to kill you, Draven Visconti!” She lunged for the phone beside the bed. Nick and his spy-type friends might not know where her brother was, but Bria had his cell phone number. And if this frigging phone got international—she dialed before she finished thinking it through.

“Sì, quello che è, adesso?”
Draven demanded impatiently.

“What have you done?” she shouted into the phone.

“Who is this?”

“Your
sister
! Draven. I’m on Nick Cutter’s ship, and he says you’re smuggling uncut, conflict diamonds on board. Is this true? Did you do this? Did you purchase the blood diamonds with Marrezo’s money?”

“This is men’s business,
sorellina
. Do not concern yourself.”

Her vision faded from red to pink as she got a grasp—barely—on her temper. “Answer me!
Are
you responsible for transporting blood diamonds on Nick’s ship?”

“It is a viable revenue to bring Marrezo back to its former glory.”

Her stomach lurched. “It’s criminal. It’s criminal to—Damn it, Draven! It’s against the law in every country I can think of! What in God’s name were you thinking?”

“I’m thinking,” he told her briskly, “that in a few weeks I will have in my possession over seventy-five million American dollars.”

“No,
grande fratello,”
Bria told him tightly, her fingers white on the phone. “
You
do not. Possession is nine-tenths of the law.
I
am now sitting on seventy-five millions American dollars in uncut diamonds.” She slammed the phone down, then, because her legs gave out, collapsed onto the floor beside the bed, and screamed her frustration into the mattress.

Chapter 21

The headset he’d picked up out of habit buzzed in Nick’s ear. Jonah. He ignored him. For the first time since he’d bought the biggest, most expensive toy of his life, not to one-up his brothers as Zane teased, he wanted to be somewhere else.
Anywhere
else.

Except that his rage, his feeling of betrayal would go with him like a fucking tick buried in his
head
. Buried in his brain where he couldn’t shake it.

To Nick, the
Scorpion
was home. His sanctuary. Other than Cutter Cay, this was where he was happiest. Now he couldn’t find anywhere on board he wanted to be.

Thanks to the two of them, right then, he couldn’t imagine
any
-fucking-where he wanted to be. He was in the gym, where nobody would think to look for him.

He sure as shit didn’t want to be here either. Everywhere he looked he got a strobelike image of making love to Bria. By the treadmill. Against the wall. He gave the double doors to the steam room a dirty look, then stalked over to stare unseeing out of the large windows.

The
Scorpion
cut cleanly through the plum and magenta ripples of the tail end of the sunset. The sky, streaked with brooding black clouds, looked exactly like he felt. Bruised. Battered. Pretty fucking bleak.

Mr. Spock.

Didn’t he wish he were that right now? He had a reputation for being soul-deep cold. Yeah, he was frosty on the outside, he just wished the feeling went all the way through to the bone, because even though it was hard for him to show it, he felt deeply. His inner nature had always been maintained at a well-suppressed boil. Emotions firmly under lock and key. He made a low angry sound deep in his throat.

That
box had been chainsawed in half. He had no idea where to fucking start.

Jonah? Yeah. He prodded that one like an abscessed tooth. Logan said he had trust issues. No shit! Nick knew he had
father
issues. Daniel Cutter had been a liar and a cheat. Idiot Zane had spent his younger years trying to emulate him. Lucky Logan had zero feelings for their father as far back as Nick remembered. And he’d been squarely in the middle.