Master of the Deep (10 page)

“Let’s see… last night, I walked outside and you practically ripped my clothes off trying to suck my dick.”

Ok, so that was true, but… “I didn’t start it just now.”

He breathed a soft laugh. “‘Fuck me’
is
pretty ambiguous.”

“That’s cheating and you know it, Mr. Shark.”

“Mr. Shark?”
 

“I don’t know your last name,” she pointed out. “Your business card only had a phone number.”

“It’s Van Buren.” He didn’t ask hers, but then he didn’t need to; he’d seen it when he’d booked her a new plane ticket.
 

Van Buren
, she thought. Well, she couldn’t marry him. Not unless she wanted to have the most presidential name ever. She’d be Monroe Taylor Tyler-Van Buren. No flipping way.
 

“What’s going through your mind right now?” Koenraad asked.
 

“Nothing. Why?”

“Because I’m trying to calm down here, but your body is tightening around me.” His mouth brushed over her ear. “You’re making me hard again, Monroe.”

She closed her eyes. Those were not the words a man should say to a woman if he wanted her to be calm. The thought that her body could so easily make him hard… it was a hell of a turn-on. She intentionally squeezed her core, and he groaned.
 

“We need to get back,” he said.

“I’m stuck on my back until you get off me,” she said, squeezing him again. She could feel him inside her, lengthening, hardening.
 

He made a low, male sound. “I guess you are. So if I decide I want to fuck you again…”

Her pussy clenched, and she felt her face heating. She didn’t say anything, instead rocked her hips against his.

“You really like having sex when we’re supposed to be doing something else, don’t you?” he asked. “That’s very naughty, Monroe.”

“Someone needs to teach me manners.” Her face heated even more. She couldn’t believe she was saying this, that she was playing this game with him. This wasn’t
her.
Just like when he’d pressed his thumb into her ass the night before and she’d liked it. That wasn’t her, either.
 

Maybe that was the whole point of vacation flings. To try things outside your comfort zone.

“Teach me manners,” she whispered. “Punish me like the naughty girl I am.”

He didn’t say anything, and she wished she could see his face. Had she gone too far? Turned him off?

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” he said. But as serious as his voice was, she could feel that his cock was throbbing hard, swollen to the maximum.
 

“Maybe not,” she agreed. “But someone needs to teach me. It doesn’t need to be you, don’t worry. I can find someone in New York.”

Koenraad grabbed her tight around her waist. “Don’t play with this, Monroe.”

“I’m not,” she said, not whispering this time.

“You look so sweet and innocent, but you’re trouble in a too-small bikini.”

“Technically, half a bikini,” she said. “I lost the bottom.”

“And you won’t be getting it back. That’s your punishment. Now we have to go.”

Despite having been warned, she couldn’t believe it when he actually pulled out. She felt every swollen inch of him, too. It was almost painful.

“Your whimpers make it all worthwhile,” he said. His mouth was just over hers, and when he kissed her, she dug her fingers into his hair and greedily kissed him back.

So maybe his cock wasn’t in her, but it still took several minutes before they were able to let go of each other. Then she fumbled in the dark, trying to fix her clothes.
 

“My bikini bottom—”

“No,” he said, his deep voice firm.
 

And inexplicably, she got wetter.

Chapter 9

Outside, the sun was blindingly bright. Monroe covered her eyes to give them time to adjust. When she peeked through her fingers, she saw Koenraad looking up at the sign.
 

“You’re right,” he said. “I’ve seen it many times, but I never saw a smiley face.” He nuzzled her neck. “The world through your eyes is much nicer. I like it.”
 

Not only did she blush, but she plunged her gaze down to stare at the wooden slats of the boardwalk. It was a hell of a compliment, and she didn’t know what, if anything, to say.
Thanks
seemed like too little. She was profoundly flattered and touched.

He looped his arm around her shoulders. She wanted to tell him how happy it made her when he did that, but the feeling was too emotional, too vulnerable, so she didn’t say anything. It didn’t matter; he did it all the time, and she doubted he would stop just because she didn’t encourage him.

“This might be a stupid question, but
are
there were-pterodactyls?”

“First, we’re shifters, not
were
-whatevers. No magic. The full moon is just another night. And I hate to break it to you, but pterodactyls are extinct.” He stopped walking and faced her. There wasn’t time to avoid colliding with him, so she didn’t fight it, instead letting his strong body absorb hers. It felt so good to trust someone else completely. She raised her face to look at him, and he kissed her gently.

“What was that for?” she asked.

“Trying to soften the blow about the dinosaurs. Did it work?”

“Umm… not sure. I’m feeling pretty disheartened right now.”

“In that case…” He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her again, his tongue pressing into her mouth. It was a bedroom kiss, and she was too breathless to pretend not to be affected.

He let her go, and they resumed walking. “I think I’ve done a bad job explaining how it all works. There aren’t any weird animals. No prehistoric monsters. Just shifters that have two forms instead of one.”

“Two forms plus little extra mini-forms,” she said.
 

“Ok,” he said good-naturedly. “Two major forms.”

“None that have more than two forms?”

Koenraad shook his head. They’d reached the lab building, but Koenraad made no indication that they would go inside. “Supposedly,” he said, “there used to be shifters who could take multiple shapes, but there’s never been any proof. It’d be nice to have that kind of ability.”

Monroe laughed. “So greedy. You can turn into a shark, but you want more.”

That made him grin, and as she looked up into his face, she had that feeling again that this was right. This was where she was supposed to be, now and forever.

She wasn’t sentimental. She didn’t fall for men at the drop of a hat. But even setting aside the shifter stuff—not that she really could for long—Koenraad was special. If he’d been a bike messenger who showed up at the office twice a week, she’d have had the same feeling.

This felt right.
 

“Maybe this doesn’t need to be said given what happened in the bowling alley, but I’m ok with what you told me earlier,” she said. “It was just shocking.”

“I know.”

“Though maybe the next time you drop that on someone, don’t do it in a boat that looks like a mid-life crisis in full force.”

“The guy I bought it from is my age,” he said. “But yeah, he’s a bit unconventional. Not going to argue. I’m curious… if I’d told you in an elegant restaurant…?”

“Maybe things would have gone down differently.”

“Spencer thinks I should have told you everything up front.”

“Spencer is a wise man,” she said.

“Well, I’d say you know the worst, but there’s a nice dinner in our future,” he said. He raised his eyebrows, and she nodded in understanding: there was more he had to tell her.
 

The door opened and Spencer stepped out. He’d changed and now looked nothing like the scientist she’d seen in the lobby. His brown hair was mussed in a stylish way. He was… cute. Not exactly her type, but definitely cute. Apparently, all the hot guys lived in the Caribbean.
 

She noticed how dilated his pupils were. Nothing like Koenraad’s, but… yeah, she’d bet anything that he was a shifter. For some reason, having figured that out made her inordinately happy.

The woman who’d driven them from the dock pulled up in the car. As Monroe got into the back, she wondered how the boat would get back to Tureygua.
 

With a little luck, it wouldn’t. Maybe someone would steal it. Or better yet, sink it. She turned her head to hide a smile.
 

And as terrible as she imagined the boat’s original owner was, Spencer seemed to be an upstanding guy. So maybe instead of docking Koenraad points for having a friend who was obviously maturity-challenged, she should be giving him points for being so open-minded.

Aw, hell. Koenraad didn’t need more points. And anyway, she liked him the way he was. Especially when he gave back the bikini bottom in the car. He handed it over when Spencer was leaned forward, talking to the driver, and she set a world record for putting it back on.

The plane, she soon found out, was even smaller than the boat. While she hadn’t imagined a jumbo jet, she also hadn’t expected it to look like something two strong men could pick up and carry away.

In fact, maybe it was her imagination, but it seemed to be swaying in the wind.

“It’ll be fine,” Koenraad murmured into her ear. But even his solid presence couldn’t loosen the knot in her stomach.

Spencer climbed onto the wing and opened the door, and Monroe stared in horror. Planes required stairs or platforms to board, and you didn’t crawl through a doghouse-sized door to get in.
 

She managed a few hesitant steps. The plane’s interior looked like that of an old car.

“Do you want to sit in the front?” Koenraad asked.

She shook her head, and Spencer moved aside the front seat, then offered her a hand.
 

“Sorry,” he said. “I got rid of the step during a remodel.”

Koenraad’s hands tucked around her waist, and he swung her up. “How long is this flight?” she asked.

“Twenty minutes,” Spencer said. His smile was warm, and she saw understanding in his eyes. “You can endure anything for twenty minutes.”

She snorted, but she accepted his hand as she crawled inside. There were two seats in the back. She quickly strapped herself into one and jerked the straps to make sure she wouldn’t be going anywhere.

Just when she thought Koenraad had run out of new and distressing experiences to torment her with, he always found something to prove her wrong.
 

The men got inside—and the plane definitely wobbled as they moved into position.

“Here.” Koenraad handed her enormous over-ear headphones that reminded her of the ones landscapers wore. There was also a little microphone.
 

“What are these for?”

“It gets loud.” Koenraad squeezed her knee. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. Since we’re flying, we’ll get back to Tureygua in time for dinner with your friends. Assuming you still want me to meet them.”

Monroe ducked her head to hide her smirk. The man knew how to make a good bribe.
 

While Spencer fiddled with controls and made different parts of the plane move—some sort of safety check, she assumed—she looked out the scratched-up window.

Shouldn’t have done that… there was a smaller window with hinges on the bottom and a little latch on the top. Heaven help her. Airplanes weren’t supposed to have windows that opened. And when she turned her attention back to the symphony of movement in the cockpit, she noticed what looked like a parking brake between the seats in the front.

“Did they put this together out of spare Chevy Nova parts?” she mumbled.

Through the headphones, Koenraad’s laugh sounded intimately close. “You think those are rivets on the wings. Here’s a secret: Spencer buys super glue by the truckload.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Spencer said. “I ran out, so I’ve been using chewing gum.” The men roared with laughter, and Monroe found herself smiling.

“I know she’s not much to look at, but this is probably the best-maintained plane you’ll ever be in.” Spencer’s voice was rich with pride, and Monroe couldn’t help but be charmed by him.

“How long have you had it? Had
her.
”

“Since we were in high school,” Koenraad answered.
 

The front propeller had started spinning slowly and was soon whirring in a blur. There was more jiggling of the zillions of controls and knobs, and then the plane was rolling down the runway.

It didn’t roll very steadily. It wobbled, in fact, and that couldn’t bode well for how it would fly.
 

Yet she kept her eyes open through takeoff, and a thrill ran through her as the small craft climbed into the cloudless sky.
 

“How are you holding up?” Koenraad asked.

“Fine,” Monroe said. And she really was.

“Koenraad has some fun planes to fly,” Spencer said. “He’s not nostalgic like I am.”

“I don’t have time to do the maintenance, and if I’m going to hire someone, I might as well get something more comfortable.”

She laid one of her hands on Koenraad’s broad shoulder, and he covered her fingers with his. “Just so we’re clear, I don’t want to try your planes.”

That made both men laugh. Outside the windows, Monroe could see the land, could see boats. They weren’t buzzing over the water, but they definitely weren’t super high. That was probably a good thing.

“You skipped the safety features of the plane,” she said.

“In case of water landing, jump into the arms of the closest shark,” Spencer said.
 

Monroe liked how Spencer talked to her as if they’d been friends forever. She didn’t know if he was generally friendly and outgoing or if he accepted her because she was with Koenraad.

With a flick of her wrist, she pulled her long hair over one shoulder and began to plait it loosely. She’d never liked Thomas’s friends, so it hadn’t upset her that they never double-dated. But what did that have to do with Koenraad? She was done comparing Thomas to Koenraad. It wasn’t fair to Thomas, it made her feel bad, and there really was no comparison anyway.

She wondered if Spencer was single. But then, all her friends were paired up.