BAD BOYS ON BOARD

by Lori Foster, Donna Kauffman, Nancy Warren

  The good news was they seemed to have the road to themselves. And she had a blanket. And a pickup truck. Well, she'd wanted to be spontaneous. She guessed it was time to accept that spontaneous didn't always work out quite the way you planned it.

  At the next intersection, she turned right into a narrow rutted lane, pulled to the side and cut the engine.

  He glanced around and she did the same. Through the dusty windshield she saw nothing but the big red ball of the setting sun, rows of dark green cornstalks as far as she could see, and not a hint of a building or vehicle or animal or man. Not bad, she decided smugly. Not bad at all.

  He turned to her. "This is it?"

  She had the advantage of being able to tell him anything she liked about their supposed relationship before his accident, and she called on the privilege shamelessly. "You never complained before. This is what we like to do. Find a quiet spot, crawl into the bed of the truck and … make love under the stars."

  His middle finger was still deep inside her body, a fact she hadn't forgotten for a second and which he reminded her of by moving, cupping her mound and driving his finger deeper. "Or we could do it right here in the front seat," he said, leaning over to kiss her, deep and wet.

  But this was her fantasy damn it and she wanted it her way. "No. Under the open sky. Trust me. It's what we love to do."

  "All right." He eased his hand away from her and they both got out of the truck and went to the back. As he reached to pull down the tailgate she stopped him. "Doesn't work. Gertie backed into a tree years ago and it's jammed shut."

  "Bad driving must run in your family," he said as he clambered over the back. Once inside he turned to give her his hand, but what she could have managed in jeans, wasn't going to be easy in a short skirt and no underwear.

  She propped her sandaled foot on the back bumper, making the tight skirt ride high. He grinned down at her, enjoying her predicament so much she decided to wipe the grin right off his face. She yanked the skirt to her waist, took his hand and scrambled up giving him a great view which he took full advantage of.

  "I'm going to kiss Gertie when we get home," he said.

  Oh, she was a wild woman all right, she decided as she pulled the picnic blanket out of the backpack she'd brought along and laid it out. Then she dug back in for a couple of beers and a handful of condoms.

  His eyes twinkled down at her. "You got a steak dinner and some candlelight in there?"

  "Yes," she grinned, pleased with herself. "Candles, anyway. To keep the bugs away. Why don't you come on down here beside me?"

  "Why don't I."

  He eased down by her side and kissed her slowly. The bed of the truck was harder than she'd imagined it would be, but the sky was as open-armed, making her feel free enough for anything.

  "It's so beautiful," she said softly, listening to the breeze rustling through the corn and the chirping of crickets.

  "It's beautiful all right," he said huskily as he swiftly unbuttoned her sleeveless blue shirt and bared her breasts.

  They tingled in the still-warm air, her nipples already hard with anticipation, her blood pounding from the teasing he'd subjected her to during their drive here. He cupped her breasts in his big hands and brought his mouth down to suckle.

  Her back arched beneath him and her own cry joined the night chorus.

  Needing to feel his skin against hers, she tugged at his shirt and he hunched his shoulders to help her pull it off.

  She'd wanted to go slowly, to savor the experience of making love in the great outdoors, but Wes had driven her too close to fulfillment and now she ached with a need that was almost unbearable. Her hips shifted and twisted beneath him and the burning between her legs intensified, even though he was only kissing her nipples, curling his tongue around each sensitive tip and then sucking them into his mouth.

  Grabbing his belt, she undid it with trembling fingers, then unbuttoned his jeans and eased the zipper over the bulging hardness.

  Like her, he'd ditched his underwear and that pleased her inordinately as she encountered his hot, hard flesh.

  As though on fast forward, their movements speeded, becoming almost frenzied as the need escalated. He yanked his jeans down. They caught on his boots and so he left them around his ankles.

  As he turned back to her, he got tangled in the bunched denim and flopped half on his back. Taking that as a sign, she straddled him, knowing it was time to take matters into her own hands. If she left it to him and he teased her any more she wouldn't be responsible for her actions. Murder was a distinct possibility.

  Leaning over his lean and hungry face, she nipped at his lip before kissing him, slipping her tongue in his mouth. Reaching between their bodies, she grasped him where he was so hot and so hard, slipped on a condom, and placed him at the entrance to her body already pulsing in anticipation. Unable to hold back any longer, she slowly sank onto him feeling him fill her, stretching her wide.

  With hands splayed on his chest she rocked back and forth, adjusting, but the need for friction was too strong to be denied and she began to pump her hips, finding her rhythm, taking him deep, deeper, and then all the way until her muscles tightened around him and they both groaned.

  As she rode him, she stared out at the open road. The air tingled against her damp nipples and she felt as free and connected to nature as the hawk circling high overhead.

  Cars could drive by, planes could buzz overhead and she wouldn't care, in fact the possibility of discovery only added to her excitement. She dropped her gaze to Wes's and felt a jolt of connection so strong she gasped. She was connected to him physically, as close as a man and woman can be, but something outside of the physical zapped between them.

  She wanted their lovemaking to last forever; she wanted satisfaction now.

  She felt his tension like a reflection of her own, saw the sweat break out on his brow and knew she could no longer hold back. Tipping her face to the heavens, eyes open to the sky, she increased the tempo, hearing the wet slap of her flesh against his, the pressure building in their bodies until explosion was inevitable.

  He grabbed her hips and bucked up into her even as her body clenched around him. "Oh, yes!" she shouted out across the whispering cornfields. As the spasms of pleasure took her, she kept her eyes open, feeling as much a part of the universe as the red ball of sun dissolving in a crimson sunset that suffused the sky.

  Beneath her, she felt the final twitch as he emptied himself into her.

  "Mmm," she sighed, collapsing against his chest. "It was like the three of us came together. You, me, and the sunset."

  He kissed her, then swatted a mosquito that had found them. "We'll be covered in bites tomorrow."

  "Do you mind?"

  He smiled at her, snugging her tight against his chest. "Nope."

  Reluctantly, they donned their clothes to protect them from the bugs that had arrived in force, drawn rather than repelled, it seemed, by the citronella candles she'd lit. They sat there, anyway, hands linked, and watched the night sky while they sipped beer.

  "Are there a lot of derelict barns around here?" he asked after a while.

  "We have our share, I guess. Why?"

  He shrugged. "I was thinking about tomorrow night."

  She chuckled. "I like the way you think. I don't know this area as well as Gertie. I'll ask her." She tweaked his arm. "Is a hayloft a requirement?"

  He gazed over and her face appeared indistinct in the twilight, her eyes dark and mysterious. "You are the only requirement," he said, and was surprised at how much he meant that.

  He saw her quick grin acknowledging the compliment, her teeth white in the dim light, her eyes glowing like the early stars.

  Why didn't she tell him they hadn't known each other before? They were sleeping together. She was taking him into her body, why wouldn't she take him into her confidence?

  Did she have somebody else? Was he a diversion? A summer fling?

  He sighed up into the dark sky. He didn't k
now squat about himself or his past but he knew there was something more than just sex going on between him and this woman. "Not only is my own life a blank, but everyone else's is, too. Tell me about you."

  "Tell you about myself?" Nell repeated. What could she possibly tell him? About her breakup? About the way she was searching for herself, for a career that meant something? For a life that made sense to her?

  She settled with her back against his chest and his arms came round her, warm and secure. "I was a publicist in LA, which sounds glamorous but basically means I was a combination secretary, servant, and therapist for a bunch of spoiled entertainment types."

  "Overworked?"

  She chuckled softly. "Yes. And mauled, cried on, puked on, OD'd on until I couldn't stand it anymore."

  Wes dropped a kiss on her hair and his hands tightened. So she found herself telling him the rest.

  "I was … seeing a director. Peter. Very glamorous life, successful, handsome, rich—"

  "Sounds too good to be true." The trace of jealousy in Wes's tone made her tip her head back and smile up at him.

  "You didn't let me finish. Also cold, calculating, and utterly self-absorbed. By the time I figured out I'd become his unpaid publicist, shrink, and call girl all in one…" She stopped as anger punched her in the chest. "I—I realized he was not the man I wanted, my job was not the career I wanted and … I guess I just wanted some time off to try a simple life for a while. Gertie's not getting any younger and I decided to come for a visit."

  He dropped a kiss on her hair. "Then you met me. Going out with a gang member isn't exactly simple and serene."

  She sighed. "You ever think about going straight?"

  "I don't remember going crooked."

  Chapter Seven

  She chuckled. "You seem like too nice a man to be in a gang."

  "We were talking about you. You came here for a simple life. Have you found it?"

  She let out a quiet sigh. "Okay, I ran. Back to Gertie, back here where there's a connection between planting seeds and growing crops, where life makes sense."

  "Are you planning to go back?"

  His words were so simple, but she heard the edge to them. "I—I don't know."

  "Is Gertie just a place to run to? Somewhere to hide out?"

  "No. I love her."

  "And what about me?" His hands tightened on her arms. "Am I a handy roll in the hayloft? A quick stress release until you get back to your regular life?"

  "No. I…" But what had she been about to say? She loved him too? She must be more seriously deranged than she'd realized. Bad enough to fall in love with an amnesiac, but an amnesiac criminal? No wonder he seemed so innocent, he couldn't remember all the vile crimes he'd committed, didn't even know how briefly they'd known each other, and yet she found she trusted him more than any other man she'd ever been with.

  Which only showed what bad shape she was in.

  "It's getting late," she said. "We should get back."

  He helped her pack everything away, then got to his feet and helped her to hers. They were quiet as they scrambled out of the back of the truck, quiet as they drove back to Gertie's.

  She turned off the ignition and the old truck rattled itself to sleep. The silence was thick, full of unspoken words, mistaken impressions, and longings.

  "Well, I guess—" She never finished the sentence. His mouth captured hers in a kiss full of frustration, passion, and driving lust.

  "I can't get enough of you," he whispered. "Can I come to you tonight?"

  She licked her lips, tasting him, tasting her own deceit. She should tell him no, but she had no willpower. They had such a short time together, she didn't want to waste a minute. Sometime he'd retrieve his memory and when that happened, this wonderful, magical affair would end. She was realistic enough to know the chances were good he wouldn't be thrilled that she'd pretended to be his lover. If she was going to lose him, she should at least build some memories.

  "Yes," she whispered back. "Oh, yes."

  * * *

  He snuck in like the moonlight slipping between the gap in the curtains and found her waiting for him, already naked, already wet.

  He wanted to take it slowly, but it was tough when need and desire snapped at him with sharp teeth driving him forward.

  It had only been a matter of hours since they'd gone at it in the truck, and already their lovemaking was taking on the quality of myth. Had her breasts really been as soft to the touch? He had to find out, first rubbing his hands over them, then his cheek, making her gasp as stubble grazed the sensitive flesh, then finally his tongue, lapping, soothing, tasting.

  Yes, he discovered, she was every bit as smooth there as imagination and memory had suggested.

  But surely her belly hadn't quivered when he'd trailed his fingertips down its length. Yes. He discovered, it had and did.

  Could she possibly be as open and giving?

  He stroked his fingers down her thighs. "I want you to open yourself for me," he said quietly, keeping his gaze on hers.

  Her entire body seemed to quiver, her eyes grew dark and exotic, her lips slipped apart in a quiet moan and then her thighs parted beneath his gaze as she opened herself to him.

  It was his turn to moan as he contemplated her mysteries. The dewy femininity, petals opening at dawn inviting him toward the dark, hot heart of her hidden beneath.

  He touched her, with just one fingertip and was amazed to find himself trembling. Just as she trembled everywhere he touched. He traced each glistening petal, deep with color, opening to his touch as a flower opens to the sun, exposing the stiff nub at its center. He took a quick trip around it, making her gasp and quake, but he refused to rush. He wanted to keep her gasping and quaking all night. He had precious few memories. He wanted to build a few that were spectacular.

  Her hips arched off the bed, thighs straining open in urgent invitation and he held back his roaring libido, letting the tip of his finger trace the opening to her body, so slick and hot it beckoned him forward the way a fire draws a cold traveler on a winter night.

  He couldn't resist the lure, but hunkered down and replaced his finger with his tongue. Mmm. She tasted juicy and all woman. Only a taste wasn't enough. He pushed his tongue all the way inside her.

  Even from down here he could hear her gasping cries and from the wild tossing of her hips, he didn't think she was far from climax. He withdrew his tongue slowly, loving the way her internal muscles clutched and tried to draw him back, then licked his way up to the tightly furled bud that was about to burst into bloom. Ruby red and pulsing, he had only to give it a slow, lazy lick to have her tossing her head and crying out.

  Another hit-and-run tongue stroke and she was sobbing with frustrated need.

  Did he want to punish her for not telling him the truth? he wondered idly as he barely touched with the tip of his tongue, hearing desperation in her tone. Or did he simply love having her completely, mindlessly in his control?

  "Please," she gasped. She was so close he felt the muscles in her thighs tighten, her clit shudder as it prepared to explode. As though not noticing her state, he moved to plant kisses on the soft white skin of her upper thigh.

  "Please!" She grabbed his hair in both hands and hauled him back to where she wanted him.

  He couldn't keep the smile off his lips as he placed them where she was hottest and neediest and sucked her clit until it burst on his tongue like the ripest berry.

  He sucked her sweetness, enjoying the cries of fulfillment she tried to muffle, until she was limp with release, and then, kissing his way slowly up her body, entered her.

  He bent his head to kiss her lips and noticed tears on the end of her lashes. He would have asked if he'd hurt her in some way, but then he saw her smile. It was the kind of smile that sniffling women share at weddings or christenings, a teary smile of female happiness and love. For just a second he paused, staring down into her dewy eyes; then he felt his lips curve, returning her smile, before he kissed her
deeply, his tongue mimicking the movements of his cock as he drove her up again to bliss.

  * * *

  "Get me a list of derelict barns in the area," he said to Harvey as they met in their usual spot at the back fence.

  "Who's going to list crap like that?"

  "A map then. Aerial photographs. Find me something. Time's running out."

  His partner shook his head. "It's no use. You've been here a week and your memory's still MIA. You've got a brain injury; we'll have to bail."

  Frustration, mixed with fury, swept through Wes. "I can't bail. You think they'll let me go so long as a shipment of their coke is missing along with me?"

  "I realize your brain is not functioning real well right now, but we are getting you out. They won't be able to track you."

  Wes grabbed Harvey by his collar and dragged him forward. "Use your own brain. Who will they go after if they can't find me?"

  Harvey's eyes shifted. "She's just using you. For all we know she's helping them."

  He pulled his hands off the other man's lapels as though they'd been soiled and stepped back wondering how he'd ever managed to work with such a weasel. "Not Nell. You already checked her out. Right?"

  "You don't know—"

  "I know Nell. And I'm not putting her safety at risk. I have to see this through with you or without you."

  "Stop thinking with your dick. You—"

  "I can see the barn in my dreams. I'm sure the drugs are there. I just have to find it. Look, we're partners. You must trust me."

  Harvey lit a cigarette and dragged hard on it. "Every time I get shot at it's because of you."

  Somehow, Wes believed him. "Come on. I need your help. I made up a bogus story for Louie, wrangled another week out of him, but that's all we have. Get me anything you can on barns in the area." He pulled out the rough drawing he'd made based on his dream.

  "This is insane. We're putting government resources into finding an old barn in the middle of Kansas because you, a man who can't remember his own name, dreamt about it."