Under the Covers (5 page)

She pulled her eyes away from Andromeda's rock to the equally unmovable male rock beside her.

"You know I'll never hurt you."

She nodded in agreement. He'd never physically harm her. She knew it. Drew wasn't that kind of lover. The only harm he could inflict was to her heart, and that, she feared, was the greatest danger in playing this game.

"Okay, then." He squared his shoulders. His chest expanded as he took a deep breath. The question flowed out as he exhaled, slow and smooth, and not a hint of playfulness in his tone. "Do you want this?"

It was a simple question, wrought with more complications than Bree could conceive. It didn't take much imagination to figure out what Drew had in mind, though how he was going to make love to her once he had her chained to Andromeda's Rock, she didn't really know. Her body trembled as possible scenarios flashed through her mind. He hadn't given her any real clues as to what he planned to do. The damned man was playing with her, showing her just enough to scare her out of her wits. And to make her wet and weak with need.

If she said no, would her legs be capable of carrying her out of there? If she said yes, was she agreeing to more than just a little bondage play? Of course she would be. She knew firsthand how masterful Drew was in bed, how knowledgeable he was about the female body. Could she survive what he had planned? If she could walk at all when he was through, would she walk away unscathed? She was already perilously close to diving into the depths where Drew was concerned. If she went along with this, she might sink to the bottom, and that would be that. Everything she'd put in motion for her future would be in jeopardy, her plans to get off this ship, to join the DIA and see the world while serving her country. Could she do that if it meant leaving Drew and her heart behind?

To his credit, he stood statue still, the darkness masking his features while she made up her mind. He was such an honorable man, loyal to his country, true to his friends, dedicated to his work. On the other hand, he was infuriating. He attracted estrogen like hydrogen atoms attract oxygen to form water. Did all those women think they'd be transformed if they bonded with him? Of course they did, and they were right. Bree was living proof you couldn't spend a night in Drew's bed and not be affected. But there wasn't any sign he was similarly affected, unless you considered tonight.

She glanced at the rock with its chains, where daily, poor Andromeda awaited Prometheus to save her from her dismal fate. If she became Drew's Andromeda, would he be her Prometheus? Would he swoop down from his testosterone throne and whisk her off to safety in his arms forevermore? Hardly. He was only toying with her. It amused him. When he’d had enough, he'd forget about her and move on to some other woman. The gods only knew he had plenty of choices.

Which brought her back to her choices. Yes, or no? There were any number of logical reasons to say no, but only one, extremely illogical reason to say yes. She wanted Drew. She wanted to surrender to him. She wanted to have no choices. She wanted to see those dark chocolate eyes of his focused entirely on her and her pleasure. And she had no doubt he would give her pleasure. Probably more than she could take, but she wouldn't have any choice, because he'd chain her to Andromeda's Rock and like he said, nothing she could say or do would make him relent until he'd had enough of her.

Reasoned out like that, there was only one answer she could give.

****

Drew had been in some stressful situations in his life, but waiting in the dark, unable to read the expressions on Bree's face while she decided, was the worst. Worse than SEAL training, and that couldn't be described in words. Worse, even, than watching Celeste sink to her knees in front of Sean and accept his collar. That had felt like someone ripped his heart out with a pair of red-hot tongs. This was infinitely worse. If Bree said no, he'd have no choice but to let her go. Then he'd simply throw himself overboard in the dead of night. He'd have to check the currents first to make sure he didn't wash up on a beach somewhere. Living just wouldn't do.

Over the last week, while he'd been playing cat-and-mouse games with her, he'd had plenty of time to think about why he was doing this. He still didn't know exactly why, but he did know he couldn't
not
do it. He had to have this woman. He had to give her a night of passion. He had to show her what it would be like to let go, to let someone else be responsible for her pleasure. He didn't think she'd relinquished complete control of anything, to anyone, in her entire life, and that was a damned shame. So far as he was concerned, there was nothing more satisfying than giving a woman total pleasure, seeing them abandon everything to pure sexual pleasure. He knew how to give a woman that gift, and it didn't always involve him finding release too.

His eyes adjusted to the shadowed light and, if he squinted, he could make out Bree's expression. She'd sucked her bottom lip inside her luscious mouth, and her eyes were wide, taking in Andromeda's rock. One wrist was still shackled to his, but she held her midsection with her other arm as if to support herself. Maybe he shouldn't have brought her here. He could have taken her to his cabin, or one of the private fetish rooms. But this was more fitting. Here, with no bed in sight, he'd be less tempted to give into his own needs. Here, he could restrain her just enough to prevent her from taking charge, and at the same time he'd have full access to her body. If she agreed to stay.

Her gaze shifted from the illuminated rock to him. Her indecision shown in her eyes, and it was on his lips to tell her she was free to go when she spoke. "Drew, I…." Something fluttered against his palm and he realized her manacled hand sought his. He moved a fraction, enough to allow her to touch him. Her hand slipped into his and his heart stopped beating. Oh merciful God. She was going to walk away. He knew it in every cell of his body. This was it. The denial of what they had, could have, together. "I…."

He'd get on his knees and beg if he had to before he'd let her walk away. "You can trust me, Bree."

Her arm dropped from her waist, and her fingers squeezed around his. He felt the chain tightening around the stone in his chest where his heart was supposed to be.

"I trust you." Three simple words were like a defibrillator, jolting his heart back to life. Relief, hope and flames of lust shot through his arteries as his heart leapt into overdrive. She was going to stay. But that wasn't enough. He had to know she understood what she was agreeing to. He had to hear her say it.

"Say it, Bree. Say you're mine tonight. Surrender."

Her fingers went lax, and her hand slipped from his. She turned to face him, her body only inches away. He could smell her intoxicating scent, something floral and completely at odds with her kick-ass persona, mixed with her arousal. He fought the urge to pull her to him, to reach between her legs and feel her wet heat. Instead, he stood as immobile as the granite mound beside them, and waited. He counted her breaths, willed his body to accept them as his own since his lungs had ceased to function. Then, a miracle happened.

Tension seeped from her body. She tipped her head back, and her eyes met his. Her eyelids dropped like the final curtain, as the two sweetest words he'd ever heard escaped her lips. "I surrender."

Drew pulled her against him. Everything soft about her molded to everything hard about him, her body making good on the promise of her words. Her lips opened under his, yielding to his demands, and he took his first breath in what seemed like forever, straight from her lungs.

Her body went lax against his, so trusting in her complete surrender. He backed her to the stone edifice, his lips never leaving hers. When he had both her wrists shackled, he stood back. He'd never seen anything so erotic, so enticing in his life as Bree Stanton draped like a goddess over the unyielding surface of Andromeda's Rock. Vulnerability showed in the way her head tilted to one side, exposing the long column of her neck, and in her open palms and parted lips. She'd yet to open her eyes, and he was grateful for the privacy, taking the moment before he demanded her full attention to compose himself. His hands shook with the need to touch her, and he had to admit, some trepidation. What if he failed her? What if she hated what he would force upon her? No. He couldn't force her to accept pleasure. She'd taken the first step, surrendering to him, but every step from here on out had to be with her consent as well. It was the only way his honor would let him proceed.

"Open your eyes."

Her lashes fluttered as her sight adjusted to the overhead spotlight.

"I've changed my mind." Something, panic maybe, anger perhaps, flared in her eyes and he hurried to correct her misconception. "No, not about giving you pleasure," he assured. "I've changed my mind about forcing you to accept it. You'll need a safe word. Tell me what it is, and if you say it, or even think it, I'll stop and release you. It's the only way I'll continue."

"Drew…."

"Just tell me your safe word. That's all I want to hear."

"It's pink. I hate pink."

He smiled. "Pink it is, then." Relieved he'd found the courage to do the right thing, he stepped closer. "I want to see all of you, and I want you to see everything I do to you. You're not to close your eyes again unless I tell you to. You aren't allowed to hide from the pleasure, or the person giving it to you. Tell me you understand."

"I understand."

He nodded. "Okay then." He reached for the Velcro closure on her turquoise crew sarong. The hook and loop fabric parted with a sound that mirrored the tear in his gut as her body was revealed to him, one inch at a time. He slipped the fabric from underneath her and tossed it into the shadowed depths of the restaurant.

"Jesus Christ almighty." His plan was rapidly spiraling out of control. He'd seen her naked before. He'd touched all that ivory skin. But having her displayed like this, knowing she'd allowed him to do this to her, shook him to his core. "Give me a second here, or this will turn into my pleasure, and not much of yours." Fucking Christ, even his voice sounded shaky.

"You're beautiful," he breathed. "No, that's not right. I don't know a word that fits. Magnificent maybe, or exquisite. Yeah, that works, exquisite. Something with a bunch of exotic letters in it. Nothing ordinary."

He was rambling, he realized. Better to shut his mouth before something ridiculous came out, like ‘please’.
Please let me have you. Please take me inside you. Please don't ever leave me.

"It would pleasure me to see you, too."

Her words jerked him out of his lust-fogged stupor. He'd forgotten he'd told her to keep her eyes open. She'd been watching him all this time. How much had his face given away? Too much, he feared.

His hands shook as he pulled the short hook and loop closure open on his wrap and let the fabric fall to the floor. He flinched as his erection sprang free.

"You must be in pain," she said.

He couldn't remember being this hard before, and his balls felt like they were clenched in a red-hot vise. "I've been in worse," he lied. "This isn't about me. It's about you." He forced his feet to move, closing the distance between them. "Forget about me." He went to his knees before her. He took one of her delicately boned feet in his hands and pressed his thumbs to her arch. "I'm going to show you how much pleasure your body is capable of."

She was going to die. Drew Whitcomb wrapped her foot in his strong hands, and a warmth and lassitude she'd never experienced before shot through her body all the way to the tips of her ears. The added blood flow there made it difficult to hear what he was saying. Something about kinds of pleasure and the fine line between pleasure and pain.

"Sometimes pain can be pleasurable. Like the time you bit me on the shoulder." He raised her foot to his mouth and his teeth scraped against the thick pad on the ball of her foot. Every nerve ending in her body tingled. "I won't hurt you, I promise. But if you like something"
—
his teeth nipped at her instep and liquid heat traveled straight to her pussy
—
"just say, 'more'."

A sound passed her lips, but she couldn't be sure what it was. A plea for more? It must have been, because his teeth sank into her arch, followed immediately by his tongue, soothing the bite.

"Oh, God." That one she heard. How was she going to survive this? He'd only touched one of her feet, for heaven's sake, and she was already out of her mind with need.

"You taste good." He returned her foot to the floor and picked up the other one.

Lust and anticipation made her groan. Drew lavished the same attention on that foot as he had on the other. By the time he returned her foot to the floor, her lungs burned from exertion, her mouth was dry, and her pussy so swollen she was close to begging him to touch her there.