SeductiveIntent (12 page)

They went down the stairs into a luxuriously appointed room,
which Sophia believed was called the main saloon in a yacht like this.
Cream-colored sofas and dark polished wood were everywhere, and the walls
sported banks of windows looking out to the harbor and the open sea,
respectively.

Brendan led her through without comment.

“Who’s the maker on this?” she asked, as they walked through
the saloon past a formal dining set and chairs and then through the back to a
sitting room that led to a sunken bedroom.

“You know a lot about yachts?” he asked, without answering.

“Not really.”

A huge built-in bed with a low headboard dominated the room,
an adjoining bathroom and walk-in closet completing the suite. She dropped her
bag on the bed. “I’ll get my suit on.”

“Don’t bother. Just wait here a minute. I have to go talk to
the captain.”

After he left, she sat on the bed, trying to face the
enormity of what she’d done in an instant.

Arthur was never wrong about these things. And yet she’d
come with Brendan anyway. Did that mean she didn’t believe Arthur or that she
believed in Brendan?

Neither probably. Just that she was stupid.

* * * * *

Arthur melted back into the crowd of tourists.

The idiot. The stupid little idiot. She was more like her
mother than he had ever cared to admit. Soft and stupid.

He didn’t have the luxury of watching Sophia go aboard the
yacht and walk off to her doom. He’d spotted the tail almost as soon as he
touched Sophia’s arm—as if he needed any more evidence that they had been found
out. He and Sophia may have had a hard time ditching the tail together, but
since the little fool had decided to stay with her lover-boy, Arthur would have
no trouble ditching the tail, whoever he was, on his own.

He’d been so careful with Sophia that she had never had to
learn the hard way what it meant to get caught, like he had in the old days.
Maybe he should have taught her that lesson. Maybe she wouldn’t have pulled
this stupid stunt. For just a second, the thought of Sophia in jail—subjected
to the criminal justice system of whatever jurisdiction Beckett intended to
have her extradited to—froze him. He turned back, quickly, almost running,
paying no attention to the tail, but it was too late.

The yacht was pulling out.

And his hesitation had cost him. A hard arm caught him and
shoved him against the side of a warehouse building. The few people walking by
looked askance, but the man assured them, “Don’t worry. I’m a cop. Keep
walking.” He extracted handcuffs and cuffed Arthur’s arms behind his back,
shoving him farther back out of sight of the road.

Arthur tested the cuffs carefully. Okay. This was okay.

“Yeah, I know. These won’t hold you for long. I don’t need
long.”

Arthur looked at the man, tall and muscular, with dark brown
eyes and brown hair cut so short he could’ve joined the army. “You’re not a
cop, are you?”

“No. But you’re not a violent felon. Just a two-bit con man.
So neither of us have much to worry about, do we?”

“What do you want?”

“That was a stupid thing you did back there. Showing up to
see your girlfriend off.”

Arthur said nothing.

“I know she’s calling herself Sophia, but what should I call
you? The Interpol file didn’t have a name for you. Other than their name for
you, of course. Chameleon.”

Interpol? Oh, thank God. He knew who this asshole was. For a
minute, he was worried Vinita had sent someone after him. Or worse, sent
someone after Sophia.

“Kendon, right?” Arthur said.

“Right. So you’re pretty much caught up. Good. We don’t have
to waste time. So what were you doing on the docks? Coming right out like that?
I got to admit you surprised me. But I guess if you know who I am, then I know
why you were there. To warn her, right? So what happened? Why did she get on
the boat with Beckett?”

“Because she’s a foolish little girl,” Arthur muttered.

Kendon watched him. “Is that why you turned back? You’re
worried about her?”

He could get out of these cuffs pretty easily and might even
be able to outrun this guy, though the other man was quite a bit younger. But
Kendon was right, he wasn’t violent, so normally he wouldn’t ever attempt to
assault the man or anything, as if he even could in view of their respective
sizes. But he might be able to render the private investigator immobile until
he got away.

Just as Sophia probably could render Beckett immobile for a
time to get away from him, except for the fact the silly girl was on a goddamn
boat and there was nowhere to run away to.

He sighed heavily. “He won’t hurt her, will he?”

“What’s it to you?”

When Arthur didn’t answer, Kendon added, “You and your
partner in crime there have been pissing my employer off, breaking into his
apartment, holding him at gunpoint. And he’d like to know why. Not to mention,
I get the impression he’s pretty bummed your girlfriend played him like this.
Although now that I’ve seen her in person, I can’t really blame him. She could
play me anytime.”

“Are you planning to talk me to death? Don’t you think you
should just take me down to the police station and get me booked?”

“Why would I do that? I’m not a cop.”

“What do you want then?”

“I want some answers. Beckett’s going to get some from
pretty Sophia out on his nice big yacht and I got stuck with you in this crappy
alley. That’s the rich for you. Always keeping the good stuff to themselves. So
what do you say we talk?”

* * * * *

Brendan was gone longer than she would have thought, but by
the time he was back, it was clear from the view out the porthole on the wall
that they had pulled out of the harbor and gone some distance.

What now?

He closed the door behind him. “Get undressed.”

The way he said it, so abruptly, startled her. She smiled.
“Shouldn’t we go out and get some sun on the deck while we can?”

He yanked his tee shirt over his head. “No. Let’s just fuck.
We can go out on deck later.”

She still hadn’t moved by the time he had whipped off his
shorts. He stood in front of her, naked. And ready.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“I was just going to ask you the same thing.”

“The only thing that’s wrong is that you’re still dressed.”

Well, she could pretend with the best of them, if that’s
what was called for now. She smiled brightly. “Would you like to help me with
that?”

“Actually, what I’d like is for you to stop acting so
kittenish and take your fucking clothes off. Okay?”

She stood up. “I’m going up on deck.” But when she tried to
walk past him, he caught her arm.

“Wait. I’m sorry. I just don’t want to talk yet. I want to
fu—uh, make love to you. I just want you so much.”

He was a much worse liar than she was. Not that he didn’t
want her. Clearly, he did. His cock was hard, pointing at her angrily, his blue
eyes dark.

But something was wrong. Really wrong.

He pulled her to him gently. When he kissed her, though, his
lips were hard and demanding and in pulling her simple dress off, she heard him
tear it. His aggression didn’t scare her, as it probably should have. When he
unfastened the back of her bra and whipped it off, she wrapped her arms around
his neck, joining in the wild unrestrained kiss. He broke the kiss and pushed
her down on the bed, setting his knees on either side of her as he ripped her
panties off.

He thrust his fingers in her hair, but instead of bringing
her lips to his, he tilted her head farther south. She swallowed hard as he
crouched above her, bringing her mouth even with his hard cock.

“You ever sucked a guy off, Sophia?”

When she didn’t answer, the fingers in her hair gave a
little tug she felt not only in her scalp but between her legs as well. She
wondered where her ingrained sense of self-preservation had got off to.

“It’s time for another lesson, babe.” He pulled her head
toward him as he sat back on his haunches. “Open your mouth. Yes, just like
that.”

She licked the head of his cock, which felt so hot against
her tongue, and then closed her mouth over it, just the littlest bit. Salty,
and velvety hard.

“More,” he demanded, like some sultan in one of her romance
novels. And like the helpless heroine of one, she obeyed, taking as much of his
hard cock into her mouth as she could, sucking slightly.

He groaned, closing his eyes, and yanking her head closer.
She could take it, at first, but when he continued the inexorable pull forward,
forcing her to take more of his rod, she gagged despite her best efforts and he
pulled out.

“Not bad for a beginner, if that’s what you are. Or did your
daddy make you suck cocks too? If so, I would’ve expected a little better,
honey.” He shoved her back onto the bed and stretched out on top of her. When
he kneed her legs open, she knew the ever ready supply of condoms must be
nearby. Sure enough, he fumbled next to them, continuing to kiss her roughly.
Trying to will herself into some alternate reality where she and Brendan were
just lovers, nothing more complicated, she listened to him rip the condom
package open and seconds later he shoved himself up into her as far as he could
go. The abruptness of it caused her to catch her breath.

He chuckled. “We’ve got to toughen you up. Such a delicate
little flower.” He started to move his cock, slowly, kissing her lips gently as
he did.

Even as she felt the pleasure overtake her, she whispered,
“I’m not a delicate flower.”

“No fucking kidding,” he muttered. Then, “Don’t talk. Just
kiss me. I like to be kissed when I’m fucked…over.” Then his mouth took hers,
not gentle like he had been at first, but hard, demanding, moving his cock in
time with his tongue thrusting in her mouth. Groaning, she kissed him back,
spreading her legs wide, and her hands came to his shoulders, his broad
muscular back, caressing him as he made love to her. She sifted her fingers
through his silky hair as they kissed, then down his strong neck all the way to
his tight haunches as he moved against her.

Abruptly, he stopped, grasping her hands and holding them
high above her head. When she tried to lean up to kiss him again, he avoided
it, his eyes blazing down at her as he held her with her arms pinned above her
head and her hips pinned to the bed by his.

“Don’t,” he warned softly.

Still keeping eye contact, he started to move his hips,
digging his cock into her again and again. She moaned, the pleasure so intense
that she longed to feel him closer, not just where they were joined but with
her whole body, with her hands, with her lips. Struggling against his hands
keeping her down, she tried to free herself so she could participate, so she
could touch him, but he was too strong.

“Stop,” he finally ordered, ceasing his thrusts. “Stop
struggling.”

She quieted, panting.

“Am I hurting you?”

She shook her head.

“Then stop struggling. I’m going to fuck you until I can’t
move anymore. And you’re going to just let me. Do you understand?”

“I want to touch you.”

“No. Leave your hands right there.” He let go of her wrists
and she did not bring her arms down, clutching the top of the low headboard
behind them. He slid his hands underneath her, palming her ass and tipping her
up to him, so he could go even deeper. And when he did, he said, “Don’t talk.”
Then his mouth came down. “Just kiss me.” And then he was moving, thrusting, so
deep, that she did. She kissed him with everything she had, and when she came,
she forgot about his admonition and wrapped her arms tight around him, feeling
him shudder as he climaxed.

When he was done, he pushed her away and rolled over without
another word.

She heard a motor boat, close and then it was somewhere off
in the distance, moving away. Brendan lay on his stomach, his head turned away
from her. Climbing to the foot of the bed, she half expected him to pull her
back, but he made no move. Hoping he was asleep, she went into the bathroom,
closing the door behind her. The sink was one of those modern things that
looked like a big white ceramic bowl underneath a silver faucet. She splashed
some cool water on her face, trying to map out her next move.

Maybe she was just imagining the difference in Brendan. He
was not really a knight in shining armor after all. He was just a guy. A
spoiled rich guy probably, just as she’d originally thought. Maybe he was
starting to tire of her as he undoubtedly did with all his flings. Maybe it was
no more than that.

Feeling better, she went back out and snagged her suit from
her bag, slipping it on and grabbing a towel, sunglasses and sunscreen, all
without Brendan moving a muscle.

When she turned the doorknob, he said, “Going somewhere?”

Looking back to where he still lay sprawled on the bed, she
said, “Just on deck to get the last of the sun.” And then she left.

When she got up on deck, she glanced around, no land in
sight. No crew either. Ducking her head into the control room produced no one
either. She made her way along to the prow, noting the boat wasn’t moving
anymore, and stretched out on the towel in the late afternoon sun.

Eyes closed against the still strong rays, after a few
minutes, she registered a shadow. Opening her eyes, she saw Brendan was
standing over her, in a swimsuit himself. He sat down on the towel next to her,
balancing back on his hands, his long legs stretched out in front of him, feet
bare.

“I don’t see anybody around,” she offered.

“Nope. I gave the crew the rest of the night off.”

“Oh, so they’re down below?”

“They’re gone. Took a skiff back to port. It’s just us.”

Not exactly good news in her book. “Is that safe? Being all
alone like this? I mean what if we need to move the yacht?”