Two on the Run (Harlequin Super Romance)

by Watson, Margaret

  His hand lingered on her hip, his fingers caressing her skin. He bent his head and nuzzled her neck. “You know, I’m beginning to like that mouth of yours,” he said against her skin.

  “I like yours, too,” she whispered, deliberately misunderstanding him. “I like the way you taste.” She was astonished at her boldness.

  Michael groaned and found her lips again. This time his kiss wasn’t sweet or slow. He slid his tongue along the seam, urging her to open to him. And when she did, he matched the rhythm of his movements to the thrust of his hips against hers.

  Her whole body throbbed with a desperate, aching need. She wanted to feel his skin sliding against hers, to smooth her hands over his body. She struggled to speak. “This isn’t fair,” she panted. “You still have your clothes on.”

  He drew back and ripped his T-shirt over his head, then stripped off his boxers. But instead of sliding over her, as she expected, he bent his head and took her breast in his mouth.

  The sensation was so overwhelming that she cried out. Gasping, she arched off the bed, her hips seeking his. But instead of filling her, as she so desperately wanted, he reached down and skimmed his finger over her most sensitive flesh.

  Shocked, she cried out his name as spasm after spasm ripped through her. She clutched his shoulders and held on while the storm raged.

  Finally, when she felt as if she would never move again, he raised his head. “You’re incredible,” he whispered, brushing a lock of hair off her forehead. He gave her a slow grin that made her quiver. “I think watching you come could turn into my favorite pastime.”

  She frowned at him through the haze of pleasure that still rippled through her. “That’s not what I want. I don’t just want you to watch me. I want to watch you, too.”

  He groaned again and eased away from her. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. You’ll have all the chances to watch me that you want.”

  The words “you promise?” were on the tip of her tongue, but she stopped herself in time. He’d made it very clear there would be no promises. She would mourn her loss tomorrow. Tonight she wouldn’t say anything to spoil their time together.

  He drew away from her slowly, as if he couldn’t bear to let her go. Finally he eased out of the bed. She watched him, puzzled, while he grabbed his jeans from the chair. When he pulled a silver packet out of his pocket and held it up, she realized what it was.

  “Where did you get that?” Surely, if he’d had condoms, he would have used one earlier.

  “The washroom at the place we stopped for dinner.” He gave her a cocky grin. “Hope springs eternal, you know.”

  She sat up in bed and drew the sheet to her breasts. “Then how come you pretended you didn’t want anything to do with me earlier?”

  The smile faded from his face. “Because it was the smart thing to do. I was trying to do the right thing.”

  “No,” she whispered. “That wouldn’t have been the right thing to do.” She held out her arms and the sheet dropped away. “This is.”

  His eyes darkened as he looked at her. Then he dropped his jeans on the floor and slid in next to her, fastening his mouth to hers at the same time.

  Her heart quickened and desire surged to life again. She didn’t want him to control himself. Need churned through her, and this time she wanted him inside of her. When she pulled him closer, he rose over her and entered her with one powerful thrust.

  She moaned his name as passion roared through her. When he began to move inside her, she lifted her hips to meet him, matching thrust for thrust. And when she exploded with release again, she felt him shudder inside her, heard the harsh rasp of his voice whispering her name.

  They lay together for a long time, trembling and spent. Finally he lifted his head. “Ellie,” he whispered, framing her face with his hands. “Ellie, what are you doing to me?”

  “The same thing you’re doing to me,” she whispered back. She combed her fingers through his thick hair, loving the feel of the coarse strands against her skin. “You’re making me feel things I’ve never felt before.”

  His eyes darkened as he looked down at her.

  “You’re scaring me,” he muttered, bending to kiss her, his eyes drifting shut. “You matter too much. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  Her heart soared with sudden hope. “Michael,” she began, “I—”

  But he put his mouth on hers and swallowed the rest of her words. “Don’t worry,” he said when he finally lifted his head to draw a breath. “I’ll die my self before I let anyone hurt you.”

  That was nothing more than he’d said all along, she reminded herself sharply. What had happened to her determination to take what he could give and not demand more?

  It had evaporated in the heat of their lovemaking. She would never be satisfied to walk away from him. But she wouldn’t be given a choice.

  So she would have to make the most of this last night they had together. She shifted beneath him and touched his cheek. “We don’t have to worry about danger right now. There’s no one else around,” she murmured. “And we have a long night ahead of us.”

  His eyes darkened even more. “So we do. And I have a couple of rain checks to cash in.” Then he bent to kiss her again.

  SUNLIGHT STREAMED WEAKLY through the crack in the curtain as Michael drifted awake. It wasn’t early in the morning. The sunlight was too bright, he thought drowsily. He was going to be late for work.

  Someone moved against him and he caught his breath. Then he saw Ellie’s head nestled against his chest, felt her legs entwined with his, and remembered.

  Icy fear trickled through his veins. He’d never spent an entire night with a woman. After the sex, he always got up and left.

  But it hadn’t even occurred to him to leave Ellie last night.

  Their situation was different, he told himself, feeling an edge of desperation. He’d had to stay with her, because of the danger.

  But last night he hadn’t been thinking about corrupt cops, or Midland, or the information he carried. He hadn’t been thinking about the threat to Ellie, or to him.

  He’d thought of nothing but her. He’d wanted nothing more than to make love to her one more time, to taste her again. There was no way he’d have gotten out of that bed to leave her.

  It scared the hell out of him. Moving slowly so he wouldn’t waken her, he tried to untangle their limbs and bodies. When she murmured a sleepy protest and reached for him, his heart thumped in his chest. He wanted nothing more than to burrow into her warmth, to absorb her scent and her touch, to lose himself in her once more.

  He forced himself to let her go.

  He showered quickly and pulled on his clothes without looking at her. The healing scab on his back pulled painfully, reminding him what was at stake. When he looked at his watch, he swore viciously to himself.

  It was almost nine o’clock. He’d intended to be on the road at dawn, to make it to Chicago before midday and have the whole afternoon to arrange to meet an FBI agent. Now that wouldn’t be possible.

  They’d needed the sleep, he tried to tell himself. The last couple of days had been stressful and exhausting.

  But it hadn’t been the stress of the previous day that had made them sleep so late. They’d made love almost until dawn, until they were so exhausted they fell asleep in each other’s arms. And not once during the night had he thought about what lay ahead.

  He pushed the frightening thought away. These were extraordinary circumstances. As soon as he’d turned in the pictures and information to the FBI and Ellie was once again safe, everything would be back to normal.

  A part of him knew that nothing would ever be the same, but he refused to acknowledge it. If he pretended hard enough, tried hard enough, he could block Ellie and all the unwelcome emotions she’d aroused completely from his mind.

  “Michael?” she said, her voice husky.

  “I’m right here,” he answered. He couldn’t look at her. If he saw her flushed with sleep and rumpled f
rom their lovemaking he would make a huge mistake. If he touched her now, he might never be able to let her go.

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “Nothing yet.” He struggled to make his voice businesslike. “It’s a little later than I’d planned, so I think I’ll call the FBI agent before we leave.”

  She sat up in bed, clutching the sheet against her. He couldn’t help the smile that curled his mouth. “Isn’t it a little late for that, Ellie?”

  She glanced down at the sheet and her cheeks reddened. “I guess I’m not used to this morning-after stuff,” she admitted. But she didn’t lower it.

  “Who is?” he said wryly, but desire shuddered through him again. He wanted to see her in the day light, to drink in the sight of her soft skin and smooth body. The need to watch her rise from the bed was almost too urgent to be denied. But all he said was, “I’ll be a gentleman and turn around so you can get dressed.”

  “Could you hand me my clothes first?” Her face burned bright red, but she held his gaze.

  That was Ellie—more guts than she knew what to do with.

  He caught himself and scowled. He didn’t want to linger on all her good points. She was merely a woman he’d gotten involved with because of the extraordinary circumstances in which they’d found themselves.

  He didn’t realize he’d been brooding until she spoke from behind him. “You can turn around now.”

  Slowly he swiveled to face her. Her cheeks were still flushed, and she didn’t quite meet his eyes. But at least she was dressed. He could look at her without seeing the marks he’d left on her body, the whisker burns and the love bites. Without thinking of everything that had happened the night before. He could pretend that nothing had changed between them.

  Or he could fool himself into thinking that was the case.

  “Go ahead and use the bathroom,” he said, his voice gruff. “I’ll call the FBI.”

  “All right.” She gave him an uncertain smile and turned to go.

  He was a jerk. Of course she was unsure of herself. She wasn’t a woman who was used to playing the morning-after role.

  He reached out and grabbed her, pulled her to him for a hard, demanding kiss. “Good morning, Ellie.”

  She melted into him, her body molding perfectly with his. “Good morning,” she murmured. Her voice was a husky purr in her throat, and he felt himself growing hard.

  His arms tightened around her for a moment, then he let her go and stumbled backward. “I need to make that call.”

  “I know.” She nodded, but there was a faint sadness in her eyes, as if she could look past his skin and see the fears deep inside him. As if she could see him tearing himself away from her.

  He watched her close the bathroom door carefully behind her, and wanted to push it open and claim her as his. He wanted to tumble her back onto the rumpled bed and make love with her for another twelve hours.

  Instead he picked up his cell phone and deliberately punched in the numbers.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  THE BATHROOM DOOR OPENED just as he closed his cell phone. Michael looked up at Ellie, and she stopped dead in the doorway.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Why do you think something’s wrong?”

  “I know you.” Her voice was flat. “What happened?”

  He sighed, tossing his phone onto the bed. “The guy Charles recommended we talk to is on vacation. He’s not due back in the office until next week.”

  “Oh.” She sank into a chair, staring at him.

  “Yeah,” Michael said wearily. “Oh.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  He wanted to tell her that they weren’t going to do anything. The part of him that needed to be in control screamed that this was his problem and he would figure out a solution. He did things his own way.

  But he hadn’t done things his own way since the moment he’d snatched Ellie from the library parking lot. And thank God for it.

  Ellie grounded him. Her no-nonsense, practical approach seemed to perfectly balance his intuitive, headlong attack on obstacles in their path. Her quick thinking had allowed them to avoid tragedy more than once.

  She’d earned the right to have a say in what they did. And she’d earned it the hard way. She hadn’t once whined or complained.

  “We’ll figure it out together,” he said, amazed at the words coming out of his mouth.

  The demon sitting on his shoulder whispered that there was only one reason why he was willing to include her. He couldn’t bear to leave her behind.

  That was absolutely not the case, he told himself, terrified that it was completely true. He was concerned for her safety. And he needed to keep her with him to keep her safe.

  “I’ll call the office back,” he said, pushing those thoughts out of his mind. He had to concentrate on their dilemma. “I’ll ask for the newest agent. I’ll say I’m a reporter who wants to do a story.”

  “Why the newest agent?” she asked, a puzzled look on her face.

  “Because the rookies haven’t had time to be corrupted,” he said. “They’re so green they’re still trying to figure out how to wipe their noses.”

  “Then what?”

  “Then I’ll tell him what I need and set up a meeting. Somewhere away from the office.”

  “You don’t think the cops from Midland know where we’re going, do you?” she asked, a sudden shadow of fear in her eyes.

  “They can’t know for sure. I didn’t know myself until we made that turn yesterday.” His mouth tightened. “But I wouldn’t put it past them to have somebody watching the office, waiting for us to show up. They have to think I’d head for the FBI. And Chicago or St. Louis are the most logical choices.”

  “All right.” She bent to put her toiletries in the bag. “It doesn’t sound like we have much of a choice.”

  “There’s always a choice, Ellie,” he said quietly.

  She looked up at him. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s not too late to stay here. You’ll be perfectly safe in this motel.”

  He found himself holding his breath, waiting for her answer.

  Ellie didn’t disappoint him. “And let you have all the fun?” she replied. “Not a chance, Reilly.”

  He tried to ignore the relief that rushed through him. He watched her for a moment, looking for signs of fear or hesitation, but saw only resolve in her eyes. “All right.”

  He held her gaze while he dialed the FBI office. When a cool, professional woman’s voice answered, he switched his attention to business and asked for the newest rookie agent in the office.

  The woman hesitated. Then she said, “May I ask why?”

  “I’m a newspaper reporter,” he said easily, giving the name of the Midland local paper. “I’m doing a story on rookies. I thought a rookie FBI agent might be an interesting addition.”

  “One moment, please,” she responded, and moments later a very young-sounding voice came on the line.

  “This is Special Agent Kenneth Givens,” he said. “How can I help you?”

  “Agent Givens, I need your help.” Michael was blunt. “I have information about corruption in a city police department that reaches to the highest levels. There’s no one I can trust in the department, so I want the FBI to get involved.”

  “Really?”

  Michael pictured the agent sitting up straight in his chair. He could almost hear the kid say, “Wow! Cool!”

  Had he ever been that young and enthusiastic? Hell, no. Michael hadn’t been young when he was twelve years old.

  “Why don’t you come into the office and tell me what you’ve got?”

  “That’s the problem,” Michael answered. “I was followed out of town. I wouldn’t be surprised if there was someone watching your office, waiting for me to show up.”

  “Really?” Givens said again. His voice almost squeaked with excitement. “Then why don’t I meet you off-site?”

  “Exactly what I had in mind.”r />
  “Could I get your name, please?” the agent asked.

  “I don’t think so. The less you know, the better for me. And for you.”

  There was a pause. Finally he said, his voice uncertain, “But I have to enter you into my phone log.”

  Good. A straight arrow, just as he’d hoped. “Put down ‘anonymous tip,’” he suggested dryly.

  Michael could almost hear the kid thinking. “I suppose I could do that,” he said slowly. “I really don’t know who you are.”

  “Good. Now where and when can we meet?”

  “Why don’t we meet at one of our satellite offices in the Chicago area?”

  “I won’t go near any of your offices.” Michael’s voice was flat. “Pick someplace else.”

  “I live in Wicker Park. There’s a park in my neighborhood. Let’s meet there.”

  Michael scribbled down directions, then looked at his watch. “How about tomorrow morning at nine?” he said.

  “Tomorrow?” Michael heard disappointment in the rookie agent’s voice. “I thought this was urgent.”

  “It is, but it’s going to have to be tomorrow.”

  “All right,” he finally said. “Tomorrow at nine in the park.”

  Michael hung up the phone and turned to Ellie, who was watching him with worried eyes. “We’re all set. We just have to hold on until tomorrow morning.”

  “Why didn’t you want to meet with him today?”

  “I want to check out the park before we meet this guy, and we still have to figure out some kind of disguise. By the time we get to Chicago and make sure the park is safe, it’ll be close to dusk. And that’s too late. Darkness gives them the advantage.”

  “What do we do in the meantime?”

  Unbidden, memories of the night before rushed through him. Desire stirred immediately and he struggled to push it away. This was not good. He needed to focus on making sure Ellie didn’t get killed, not on making love with her.

  “We head for Chicago. I want to watch the FBI office for a while and see if anyone is hanging around.”

  “Let’s go, then.”

  He studied her as she grabbed the bag and headed for the door. She acted as if going to Chicago and walking into a dangerous situation was the most natural thing in the world, as if she didn’t give a damn that they both might die.