Rough Draft: Big Easy Page 6

  “But there’s a murderer on the island!” Carissa was unnerved by the man’s utter calm.

  “That is unfortunate.”

  Carissa started to blast the man for his callous attitude, but before she could speak, there was a knock on the door.

  “Enter,” the master commanded.

  Roan stepped into the office. Like Jett, he stopped just a few feet inside the door, not venturing any closer to the man behind the desk. “You wanted to see me?”

  The master raised his hand to Jett, clearly indicating he wanted him to explain. Jett efficiently recapped their evening, telling Roan about Gregory’s murder, where the body was, and the way the man had been killed.

  “You know this man, Roan?” the master asked.

  Roan nodded. “He’s a guest on the island. Arrived today. I was leery about letting him play in the dungeon, but his father is a highly positioned foreign diplomat and he had proof of membership in an elite D.C. sex club. I let him in against my better judgment and had him escorted out an hour later. I suspected you’d called me up here because he had lodged a complaint. Didn’t expect to hear he’d been murdered.”

  The master slowly tapped a pen on his desk, the light pounding the only sound in the silent room.

  “Um, hello? A man has been killed. And even if he was a gigantic prick, it’s a little more than ‘unfortunate’.” Carissa’s tone was downright hostile, but she was annoyed by the utter lack of compassion in the room.

  “I apologize if I seem cold, Ms. Pierre. However, it is imperative that we handle things carefully tonight. As I said, everyone on this island is essentially stranded here until the storm passes. I would prefer not to start a widespread panic should the guests realize there is a killer amongst them. Do you understand?”

  Carissa nodded. “Of course I do.”

  “Roan, please have three of the security guards retrieve the body. Tell them to be careful when transporting it, so they don’t compromise any of the evidence.”

  “Where should they move the body?” Roan asked.

  “To the infirmary. I’ll call Dr. Magdalene and inform her they’ll be there shortly.”

  “I’ll take care of it.” Roan started to leave, but the master called him back.

  “Roan. One moment. How many people saw you kick Gregory out of the club tonight?”

  Roan considered the question. “There were three, maybe four members at the exit when I had my men escort him out.”

  “Did Gregory go quietly?”

  Roan shook his head. “He was shouting, cursing, threatening to have me fired.”

  “Then you’re a suspect.”

  Roan didn’t seem surprised or bothered by that fact. “I suppose I am.”

  “I’ll take care of that issue. You may leave.”

  Roan bowed his head before leaving them alone with the master once more.

  Carissa shuddered slightly. She was starting to feel as if she were in the middle of a Godfather movie. She kept waiting for the master to peel off some Mission Impossible-style mask to reveal himself as Michael Corleone, ready to give someone the kiss of death.

  She snorted, covering her mouth quickly. Unfortunately, it was too late, her brief laugh completely inappropriate for the situation. She looked over at Jett, who appeared confused, but amused, by her untimely giggle.

  The master—mercifully—ignored the sound. “You are a crime writer, Mr. Lewis. Is that correct?”

  Jett nodded. “Yes.”

  “I suspect you’ve conducted research on the criminal mind, studied the details surrounding murder scenes and the like to help you write your novels.”

  “I have.”

  The master stood, walking to the curtained window behind him. Carissa found herself hoping he would draw the heavy material back to allow some of the moonlight to hit his face. He didn’t.

  “I intend to hide the fact there’s been a murder. When life goes on as normal tomorrow, when no crime is announced, the killer will realize we’ve covered it up. He will be suspicious of anyone who is a member of my staff and therefore on guard. You and Ms. Pierre said you met the victim in the dungeon tonight. It appears Gregory made quite a spectacle of himself there, so perhaps that would be a good place to launch an investigation. We need to sniff this man out.”

  “Why do you keep referring to the killer as a man? Gregory had his,” Carissa hesitated, then said, “penis cut off and stuffed in his mouth. That feels like a crime of passion to me. The work of a woman scorned.”

  The master seemed to consider her assessment, but Jett shook his head. “Gregory was a large man. I can’t imagine a woman would be able to overpower him and tie him up that way.”

  “Maybe she got him in the chair under the ruse of a sex game.”

  “Gregory is a Dom, Rissa. Unless you’re suggesting he was a switch.” Jett appeared to be wavering. “If that was the case…”

  The master cleared his throat. “It’s a theory worth investigating. Would you and Ms. Pierre be willing to do a bit of undercover work?”

  Jett said, “we’re not detectives,” at the exact same time Carissa asked, “In the dungeon?”

  Jett flashed her an exasperated look, but she ignored it. Carissa was oddly excited by the prospect of playing detective. She’d been reading Jett’s novels for years and was a huge fan of murder mystery television shows.

  Jett crossed his arms. “Listen, I would like to help, but—”

  “We’ll do it,” Carissa replied before Jett could refuse.

  “Rissa. I’m not about to put you in a dangerous situation. You saw the way that man was murdered. This isn’t fiction. The threat is very real.”

  “How can you just stand by and let a killer go free? What if Gregory isn’t his only intended victim? This murderer could have it out for anyone associated with BDSM or…” Carissa’s tired mind was suddenly whirling again as she spied a way to distract Jett from his sudden, inexplicable interest in her. Maybe a murder investigation to knock out some of this intense, sexual tension between them.

  Jett tried to reason with her, but she could have told him she was too far-gone for that. “If it were just me, Rissa, I’d be first in line to help, but—”

  Carissa put her hands on her hips. “Don’t you dare go all macho on me, Jett Lewis. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself and you know it. If you try to pull that chivalrous, protecting-the-little-woman bullshit on me, I swear to God, I’ll smother you in your sleep tonight.”

  Jett narrowed his eyes, stepping closer. Carissa had to resist the urge to take a step back. He’d never used his size to intimidate her until this moment. And now that he was, she had to admit he was definitely scary when he was angry.

  “You won’t be able to smother me if I strap you to the bed and keep you there the rest of the week.”

  “You wouldn’t dare!”

  He tilted his head, his expression far too smug. “You were in the dungeon with me tonight, Rissa. I made it very clear there’s nothing I’d like more than to tie you to my bed and have my wicked way with you. Don’t worry, though. I’d make sure you weren’t bored.”

  For the first time since she’d entered the room, she found the master of the island the lesser threat. She turned, searching for the man in the shadows. “I’ll help you uncover the killer’s identity. With or without Jett’s help.”

  Before Jett could protest or contradict her, Carissa left the room. She’d spent the last couple of hours worrying about how to hold Jett at bay until they returned home and came to their senses. Jett had used kisses to distract her from her fear of flying. Now she was going to sidetrack him from his pursuit of her with a murder investigation.

  “Dammit, Carissa. Wait.”

  She didn’t have much of a choice. The elevator hadn’t arrived.

  “You’re not going to change my mind about this, Jett.”

  Jett rubbed a hand over his jaw, dark circles under his eyes proving the lack of sleep was catching up to him as well. They were bo
th running on empty. “Rissa—”

  She leaned against the wall. “Can we table this conversation until tomorrow? I’m so sleepy.”

  Jett grinned tiredly. “Yeah. That’s fine. But I’m not going to change my mind.”

  The elevator doors opened and they stepped inside, pushing the button for their floor.

  “Neither am I. You need this, Jett.”

  Jett frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  “Doing some undercover work on a murder investigation may be just the trick to get the wheels in your brain turning again. It’ll put you back in the right frame of mind and jar loose whatever it is that’s keeping you from writing.”

  “You think we should both put our lives in danger so that I can start writing again?”

  She nodded. “Yep. That’s exactly what I think. Let’s face it, you haven’t exactly been yourself lately. You’re depressed, in a slump and nothing’s helped. Not your family, not sex—don’t even tell me you haven’t tried to use that as a cure—or even this vacation.”

  “We haven’t been here an entire day. Don’t you think it’s too soon to make that call, to declare this a failed venture?”

  “Whatever. The point is you’ve been floundering, struggling to find your footing.” Then another thought occurred to her. “I’m pretty sure it’s this state of panic you’ve been in lately that has you thinking you’re interested in me.”

  He frowned. “That’s not true.”

  “Nothing has changed between us except the scenery. You’re grasping for something, anything to make you forget your writer’s block. I get that. And I’m actually sort of flattered. But you need to find another cure. Digging into a juicy murder investigation sounds like a much more effective way for a crime writer to break his mental block than lying around in the sun all day, pounding Coronas and Vodka Tonics and trying to get into my pants.”

  “You know, lots of famous authors have also been famous for their alcoholism. Hemingway, Poe—”

  “I don’t need the list.”

  “And you’re wrong about you and me.”

  Carissa wasn’t sure how to respond to the absolute assurance in his voice. So she held her tongue, stepped off the elevator and started walking toward their room. Once they were inside, Carissa found herself in the same place she’d been a few hours earlier. Staring at the bed she and Jett had to share.

  “It’s been the longest day in history, Rissa.”

  She laughed. “You’re right. It has.”

  “So let’s do what you suggested by the elevator. Table it all until tomorrow. Every single one of these issues is still going to be here when we wake up.”

  She gave him a rueful grin. “Could you be any less consoling? Whatever happened to ‘nighty night, don’t let the bed bugs bite’?”

  “You find that more comforting?”

  She grabbed her pajamas and headed toward the bathroom. She turned at the doorway. “Sweet dreams, Jett.”

  He tugged off his t-shirt and jeans as she fought like the devil to feign indifference. Once he was down to his boxer briefs, he gave her a wicked wink, climbed under the covers and claimed a spot closer to the middle than the edge. “Good night, Rissa.”

  He turned off the lamp on his side of the bed and sighed contentedly. Clearly he was going to be much better at this platonic sleeping together than she was.

  Exhaustion was no match for her hormones.

  “Shit,” she muttered as she closed the bathroom door behind her and donned her PJs. She studied her tired face in the mirror. “Note to self, next time you fly off to paradise with your best friend, pack Dramamine, heavy duty sleeping pills, tequila and more than one vibrator.”

  Chapter Five

  Carissa watched the sunrise cast yellow shadows across the ceiling above the bed. Her thirty-seventh glance at the clock told her it was only five minutes later than the last time she’d looked. She and Jett had fallen into bed around three a.m. She’d managed all of three hours of sleep before her eyes popped open—wide awake, her body overheated and her pussy clenching hungrily. She’d never been so horny in her life.

  God. Her need was physically painful. She twisted and turned, but still couldn’t find a position that alleviated the throbbing between her legs, the hunger for sex. To make matters worse, Jett was sleeping peacefully only a foot away from her, oblivious to her agony. It was his fault she was so hot and bothered. He’d set this fire in the dungeon, then left her to simmer.

  Bastard.

  She took several deep breaths, tried to count sheep, willed her body to calm the fuck down. None of it helped.

  “Screw it,” she muttered. She slowly climbed out of bed, careful not to wake Jett. She could only imagine what he’d do if he woke up and discovered her in such a state. Actually, she didn’t need to imagine. She had a pretty good idea of exactly how he’d handle it. And while it was more tempting than a chocolate ice cream cone on a hot summer’s day, there was no way she could give in to what Jett wanted. She didn’t mix sex and friendship.

  Which was obviously why she didn’t have a boyfriend, she thought, rolling her eyes at herself.

  Regardless, if she couldn’t do casual sex with Jett, couldn’t give in to that friends-with-benefits offer of his, there was no way in hell she could go for what he’d proposed last night, which sounded less booty call and more relationship.

  God. No way.

  If she slept with him, she’d fall in love, and despite what he said, she wasn’t sure that was really what Jett wanted. He was just in freak-out mode over the writer’s block. Once he sorted that out, everything could go back to normal.

  Reaching into her suitcase, she pulled out the vibrator she’d buried beneath her clothes and tiptoed into the bathroom. Given her current state, she wouldn’t need more than a few minutes with her lovely toy. Then maybe she could get some sleep.

  Shutting the bathroom door behind her, she was dismayed to find the lock broken. She’d have to call the front desk later to see about getting it fixed.

  Carissa stripped off her pajama shorts and walked to the sink. She hadn’t bothered to turn on the light. She knew her way around this particular area on her body very well in the dark. God knew she’d spent plenty of time perfecting the act of masturbation. That thought was depressing as hell, so she didn’t bother to dwell on it.

  Turning on the water to drown out the noise of her toy, Carissa switched the vibrator on low, then placed it against her clit. She jerked roughly. She was hornier than she realized. Her pussy was hot and wet and ready for whatever relief she could provide.

  She closed her eyes, letting the soft vibrations work their way deeper as she pushed the head of the toy inside. Her breathing became more labored as she started thrusting the vibrator—shallowly at first. She inched in incrementally with each retreat and return, teasing herself.

  Carissa had only just pushed the toy home, lodging it deep, when the bathroom was flooded with light. She blinked against the sudden, blinding brightness, helpless when she felt Jett’s arms surround her from behind.

  The sound of running water ceased as he turned off the faucet. Then his large palm wrapped around her wrist, keeping the vibrator inside her.

  “What are you doing?”

  She squinted as her eyes began to adjust to the light. Finding his reflection in the mirror, she pointedly ignored her flushed face. Her cheeks were bright red—the perfect blend of embarrassment and arousal.

  Carissa fought hard to regain control. Jett’s arrival couldn’t have come at a worst time. Her orgasm had been only a handful of thrusts away. Now she was teetering on the razor’s edge of agonizing need and mortification.

  She swallowed heavily, then cleared her throat. “I think that’s pretty obvious.” The response didn’t sound as strong as she’d hoped, her voice weak, breathless, pained.

  Carissa expected Jett to make a joke. It’s certainly what the easy-going friend she’d always relied on would have done. This Jett didn’t crack a smile.
In fact, he looked downright pissed off.

  Which left her unnerved. And fucking hot.

  She closed her eyes in an attempt to stem the sudden flood of arousal his possessive stare provoked.

  “You’re right. It is obvious.”

  Carissa looked at him, confused by the almost hurt tone in his voice.

  “Jett—” She started to apologize, even though she didn’t understand what exactly she was sorry for.

  His hand still engulfed her wrist, the muffled sound of her vibrator filling the silence in the room.

  He released her. “Turn that thing off and take it out.”

  She lowered her eyes as she did as he commanded. She couldn’t understand it, but somehow Jett’s presence hadn’t dimmed her hunger. If anything, she needed to come even more. Her pussy clenched against the plastic, resisting as she pulled the toy out. She gasped, the sound betraying how close she was.

  Jett’s gaze narrowed, but he made no move to stop her.

  Carissa needed to get out of here, to get away from him. Unfortunately, there was nowhere to go. It was six a.m. and they were sharing this room. She supposed she could go hide in the lobby for a few hours, but what would that solve? It was the beginning of the vacation. She couldn’t avoid Jett for the next six days.

  Unless…she inquired at the front desk about another room.

  She didn’t have the money in her savings account to cover the cost and it would put a big dent in her credit card, but it would be worth it. She couldn’t stay in this room and not have sex with Jett. Carissa just wasn’t strong enough to resist whatever the hell this was.

  She tried to hide the vibrator by her side, grateful she hadn’t taken off her t-shirt. The material was long enough to cover most of her private parts. “I need to get out of here,” she said, not bothering to look at Jett as she spoke.

  She turned, intent on leaving.

  Jett chuckled, the sound devoid of mirth, as he grabbed her upper arm. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  He took the vibrator away, then used his grip to drag her back to the bedroom. Carissa put up a fight, resisting him. There was no way she was getting back in that bed. However, while Jett typically hid his muscular form under loose-fitting t-shirts, there was no denying he had her beat in the physical strength area.