Pure Dynamite

by Lauren Bach

  He sensed her hesitation, knew she was torn. Yes, she was turned on. Yes, she wanted him. The proof was written all over her body. Her nipples were hardened into pearls. Beneath his stare, they grew tighter. Made him wonder what they'd taste like in his mouth.

  He knew that if he touched her as intimately as she touched him, he'd find her wet. Eager. One finger would prove it, just one finger slid up between those dark curls. She would be hot. Tight.

  And the regret would destroy her. She thought of him as a criminal. A low life.

  Christ! What if there were no lies between them? Just desire. The thought was too painful to contemplate.

  For the first time in his life, Adam knew the feeling of wanting someone so bad it physically hurt. He had to back away. End it.

  As much as he wanted her, he couldn't lose sight of the fact that she was not there of her own free will and didn't know the truth about him or what he was doing.

  When they made love, if they made love, it would only be after she knew the truth and made her choice accordingly.

  This, though, had to stop. He was only human, and she was still teasing his cock with those elegant little hands of her. It was killing him.

  Grasping her wrist, he went to yank her hand away, to end it.

  But she resisted tightening her hand around him so that when he pulled her fingers hugged his shaft, tugging against him. He felt the head of his cock pop.

  Adam's world shifted. He swore violently. After days of torment, that one simple move pushed him over the edge. There was no turning back. No sucking it up. No holding on till later. Damn her.

  With a growl, he pulled away and grasped his own flesh. He hadn't jacked off since he was a kid. Hadn't had the need. Women had thrown themselves at him since he was a sophomore. He was jaded when it came to sex.

  Except when it came to her.

  Closing his eyes, he squeezed his shaft, running his hand up and down, finding the right rhythm. His swollen testicles tightened as hot flames licked them, his flesh demanding relief. He pumped his fist and heard her shocked intake of breath, felt a perverse satisfaction knowing that she watched—knowing his cock grew harder and longer with each stroke.

  He opened his eyes, expecting to see shock, disgust. Wanting it, even.

  But instead she seemed . . . fascinated, her eyes wide, unblinking as she stared down at the movement of his hand. Her pelvis thrust forward slightly as she rocked onto her toes, her body unconsciously answering his.

  She had her mouth open, making him wonder what those full, luscious lips would feel like on his flesh. A vision of her on her knees weakened him.

  Then her tongue, tiny and pink, darted out to lick her lips. The gesture undid him.

  With a shout he clenched his fist tighter, pumping furiously. Harder. Faster. Ejaculate ripped up his shaft, building, swelling, ready to explode.

  And as it did—Renata reached forward and caught it in her hand.

  It felt like time stopped. And stayed suspended...

  Then restarted with a jolt as the orgasm Adam thought would never end did.

  Spent, and barely able to stand he turned back into the spray. He sucked in air, desperate for oxygen. Shutting the water off, he grabbed a towel and thrust it at her, never once meeting her eyes.

  Renata knew he was angry, didn't blame him. What had possessed her to touch him was no longer the question. Why hadn't she finished what she started was?

  An unrelenting tension coiled in her stomach. And lower. The moment Adam had touched himself she'd felt a stab of searing excitement. And as he masturbated—relieving himself in an act she could only call beautiful—her ache had grown. He had spilled into her hand semen shimmering with heat and energy.

  Over and over she visualized his granting himself relief. The memory burned. So did her body. With excruciating detail, she recalled the feel of his penis. The heat, the hardness. While touching him, holding him, she'd been so turned on she couldn't think straight.

  Too late she realized what she had wanted: to fee! him burn inside her. To know just once what an honest-to-God blazing, erotic experience did to one's soul, the consequences be damned.

  She knew it was crazy. Wrong. But still she wanted him. Desperately.

  He thrust clothes at her. She looked at them, still foggy, and realized he was fully dressed. Then he walked out, leaving the door open.

  He hadn't said a word.

  She watched the doorway, hoping Adam would return and try to take advantage of her. She'd let him. Encourage him. Help him. But that wasn't his style. He wouldn't touch her without permission.

  In fact, he'd never once touched her inappropriately—even when they'd been naked in a shower. Or asleep in each other's arms. Yet she'd touched— stroked—his penis. More than once. Without asking.

  If he had done the same to her, would it have not been interpreted as harassment? Guilt warmed her skin. She owed him an apology.

  It was also high time she examined a few more truths. Like the fact that she didn't fear Adam. Yes, he acted rough and tough in front of Lyle—and in front of her sometimes. But he wasn't like Lyle. He wasn't a cold-blooded murderer. He wasn't beyond redemption. And she wanted to save him. For herself...

  She dressed quickly and when she looked up again, Adam's bulk filled the door. His hair dripped, his shirt damp from being pulled onto wet skin. And he was hard again. She stared, not trusting herself to speak. Not yet. Not when her body still ached with an unmet need.

  She heard the clink of handcuffs. "No," she protested.

  "It's not what you think." He grasped her wrists. "I'm staying up for a while. You're going to sleep."

  "We need to talk."

  He snapped the cuffs closed. "No. Right now I need to be alone!"

  Adam paced the living room, fists balled at his sides. What the hell had come over him?

  Her hand.

  It was that friggin' simple.

  He had been fine until she reached out and touched him. In fact, if she had left it at a touch, he'd still be okay. She'd touched him before—the memory of those two delicate fingers resting lightly on his flesh was burned permanently in his mind—and he'd survived. Kept control.

  But this? This had been deliberate. Calculated. She'd clutched him. Stroked him. Then she watched him. And when she should have turned away, she'd stepped closer, brought her hand forward just as he came.

  Leaving him with yet another memory he'd never forget.

  And in that instant she had wanted release. She'd been on the brink of climax, her body screaming for relief. Adam could have touched her and given her immediate satisfaction. One hard stroke of his thumb across her clitoris would have pushed her into deep orgasm.

  Or he could have prolonged it. Given her a series of shorter orgasms, one after another, making them build in intensity until he was damn good and ready to let her off the hook. Yeah, she had been ready. Her nipples had been hard begging. Her hips thrusting lightly. But anyone—-even a damned vibrator—could have fulfilled her need just then.

  And he wanted her to want only him. He wanted to see her burn with a flame only he could extinguish.

  The thought was sobering. He'd never felt that way about a woman in his life, had never known the feeling of wanting one person at the expense of all others. Of wanting that one person to know everything about his life, every pain, every hurt. Every laugh.

  He didn't like the implication. Especially now. He had a job to do. She was part of his job.

  That fast his fury died leaving guilt in its wake. His behavior tonight had been unacceptable. And while part of him felt he owed her an apology, he knew he wouldn't.

  Hell, what was one more sin on his scorecard? He'd already kidnapped her, made her shower with him, exposed her to danger. Jacking off in front of her was the least of his crimes.

  Besides, she wasn't exactly without guilt herself. Little Miss Prim and Proper had touched him first. He closed his eyes, remembering.

  She needed to leave. T
oday.

  Adam checked that the door to Lyle's bedroom was still shut tightly. Then he withdrew Renata's cell phone and stepped outside.

  He tried Stan first, puzzled when he couldn't reach him. Then he dialed Ethan, surprised when his boss answered instead of the answering machine.

  "What's going on down there?" Ethan demanded.

  Adam gave him an update, including Lyle pulling a gun on Renata. "She's got to go now. How close are your men?"

  "They're about four hours behind you. Guess you lost them in a detour, but they're still getting a signal on the homing device. Once they're close, they can pick the woman up and get her to a safe house. Here's their number."

  "Let them know to expect a call"

  "Any word on when you'll meet up with Willy?"

  "No. But as soon as Renata's gone, I'll tell Lyle that I've confirmed delivery on the C-4. That should speed things up."

  "Just keep me posted. I want to be there for the bust and I need a little advance notice."

  "To get a TV crew in?"

  "Don't get smart. I want to bring in a tactical unit."

  They discussed the pending arrest in brief terms. Until they knew specifics, it was hard to plan. Both men agreed Adam should play bad guy until all the arrests were made.

  He hung up and went back inside. To brood.

  In order to get Renata out, he needed to get away from Lyle for a short time. It would be easy to concoct a story that he had to meet someone regarding the explosives. And when he returned without her, he'd insinuate that he'd killed her.

  He also had to find the right time to tell Renata who he was. Yeah, Ethan or his men would explain, but damn it, Adam wanted her to hear the truth from him. He wanted to look her in the eyes and tell her he wasn't a convict, a felon. More, he wanted her to look at him without that underlying fear.

  He rubbed his face, tired. He'd grab a few hours sleep, then take off.

  Renata wafted up from sleep and found herself curled atop Adam's chest, not one part of her touching the bed.

  Half in a haze, she realized her shirt had ridden up, baring her stomach and half her breasts. And since Adam was shirtless, she—her cheek, one hand her exposed midriff—rested on his bare skin. Her other hand was cast up along his neck, her fingers tangled in the warm strands of his hair.

  Strong arms cradled her; one hand low and cupped possessively against her hip, the other tucked beneath her shirt, resting on her back. More bare skin on bare skin.

  The sensation was not unpleasant. Neither were the vague wisps of her dreams. In sleep, she'd seduced him in order to win her freedom. But then she had stayed. Why?

  Beneath her, Adam moved, tightening his grip slightly, drawing her closer. Against her thigh, she felt the unmistakable rub of his erection. Now she remembered why she hadn't left. In her dream, they had made love and it had been so wondrous she had begged to stay.

  She gasped, rejecting the dream.

  Her sound of anguish woke Adam.

  That fast, he rolled her to one side, thrusting her behind him as he grabbed the gun he had stuck beneath the mattress.

  He swept the room with his weapon. "What was it?"

  "Nothing." Renata tried to shove free, but he had her arm pinned. "You're hurting me!"

  Shoving the gun away, Adam raised up enough to free her arm. But when she tried to scramble off the bed, he caught her, forcing her to lie back down. He leaned in beside her, braced up on one elbow.

  His fingers grazed the wildly beating pulse at her neck before brushing the hair from her face. "Tell me what scared you."

  The genuine concern in his voice muddled her image of him even further. Not wanting to meet his eyes, she glanced down, her gaze following the firm muscles of his chest and abdomen.

  She had expected the bulge in his jeans, had already felt the taut ridge of his erection. She hadn't expected to find him partially exposed.

  With the top snap left undone, his swollen flesh had refused to be restrained. Couldn't be restrained. The head and first few inches of his shaft pressed out the denim V of his open fly.

  With a cry, she closed her eyes.

  Adam could guess the cause of her distress. Part of him wanted to remind her that she had started it by touching him. Except that wasn't totally true. He'd fought one erection after another for days now.

  And as tortuous as it had been at the time, he'd enjoyed her touch. Hell, he'd gladly endure the anguish again. But not if it caused her distress. Not if it frightened her.

  Very gently, he nudged her chin. "Look at me, Renata."

  Her eyes fluttered. Wary. Woefully humiliated.

  He kept his voice low and soft. "I'm sorry if it frightens you. I can't stop it from happening. Take it as a compliment, but know that you are safe. Can you believe that?"

  She wanted to look away, to deny his words ... but she couldn't. The truth was she did feel secure with him, for reasons that made no sense. Reasons that made her uncomfortable. Reasons she'd never give voice to.

  She desired the man and that was wrong. If it had simply been the desire for sex, she could understand it. Write it off as combat fatigue. This yearning for only him though, was upsetting.

  She felt Adam's fingertips press just beneath her ear- lobe, his thumb stroking the underside of her jaw. She gulped in air. Once, twice. Then exhaled. So did he.

  She became aware that the palm of his other hand rested lightly against her stomach, against her diaphragm. Barely touching. Her breathing calmed. She inhaled her next breath softer, more even.

  He was doing it again: that thing where he seemed to control her breathing. He'd matched his breath to hers, then changed the pattern. Slowed things down. Her awareness narrowed. They were the only two people on earth.

  He moved fractionally closer, his fingers stroking down her neck. He was going to kiss her again and she felt incapable of stopping him. She recalled the power of this man's kiss, knew that if he touched her lips again, she'd surrender fully —

  From the doorway came a sound. Lyle cleared his throat.

  Renata wanted to disappear. Even though Adam's frame completely blocked her from the other man's view, she could imagine what it looked like. She bit her lip, felt her skin flush as Adam turned and glared over his shoulder.

  "We need to talk," Lyle said. "I just heard from my father."

  Chapter Fifteen

  Adam found Lyle in the living room, the television blaring. The younger man was somber and more coherent than he'd been the night before.

  Lyle pointed at the set with the remote. "The old man just told me about this."

  Adam braced for bad news, expecting to hear that he and Renata had been identified after stopping at the car accident. While they were now miles away, in Kansas, their being spotted in Illinois would divert police away from their erroneous search in the Northeast.

  "They found that prison guard—Irv Wallace. Dead" Lyle continued. "They claim he was killed with his own shotgun, which they recovered with both our fingerprints."

  The news stunned Adam. He watched the television report, which was half over. Apparently the guard's body had been found less than three miles from where they'd escaped. The exact time of death was pending autopsy results, but anonymous sources speculated the guard had been dead for several days.

  Adam's thoughts flew back to their escape. It seemed like eons ago. That his and Lyle's fingerprints were on the guard's shotgun wasn't surprising. They'd both handled the weapons.

  "How much you wanna bet Franklin Potter did it?"

  Lyle sneered. "It would be just like that bastard to shoot Wallace and leave the gun with my fingerprints on it, next to the body."

  "I don't know." Yeah, the other two inmates could have followed and retrieved the shotguns. But where would they have gotten ammo? Adam had unloaded the guns and taken the shells with him. And then there was the lack of additional fingerprints. Where would a con get gloves on the spur of the moment? "Are you saying your family wasn't involved?"
<
br />   "Exactly. So it had to be Potter," Lyle said. "At any rate, Pa's bringing us in. And he also wants a confirmation on the C-4."

  "I'm expecting that shortly."

  "See if you can speed things up. And one last thing." Lyle nodded toward the bedroom. "We need to unload the luggage, man. We're almost home free. And I don't care how good a lay she is, she's a liability."

  Adam felt the muscles in his chest contract. "I'll take off with her now, then. It'll give me a chance to check with my partner."

  Renata was sitting on the edge of the bed when Adam walked back in. She knew by his grim expression that something was wrong. She had tried to eavesdrop, but hadn't been able to hear anything above the noise of the television.

  When she went to speak, he touched a finger to his lips, signaling silence.

  He quickly removed the handcuffs. "Get your shoes. Quick."

  "We're leaving now?" She looked at the bedside alarm clock. It was four in the afternoon. They never traveled during daylight hours.

  "Now," he confirmed. "Just the two of us."

  The two of them. Her heart rate accelerated, thudding dully behind her eardrums. Lyle wasn't going? Why? Were the two men parting ways?

  She opened her mouth again, but he cut her off. "We'll talk in the car."

  Ten minutes later, they pulled onto the highway and sped away from the mobile home. She had not seen Lyle before they took off, yet Adam assured her the younger man was fine. It was that assurance that bothered her. If Lyle were indeed fine, she was no longer needed. She closed her eyes, knew she should feel frightened. She didn't.

  "Get the map from the glove box," Adam said. "And tell me where the closest park or recreation area is."

  Renata studied the map. "There's a county park about ten miles from here. On a river."

  "That'll do."

  Adam pulled a cell phone out of his pocket. She recognized it as hers, was surprised he still had it.

  He dialed a number, swearing when no one answered. He dialed again, and this time left a terse message. "We need to talk. I'll contact Ethan's man to have the woman picked up."