Pure Dynamite

by Lauren Bach

  Wanda lowered her voice and tipped her head toward Adam. "I wouldn't use 'em with him, either. Guess I just hear so much at work about safe sex."

  "You're a nurse?" Renata quizzed.

  "A receptionist. At the women's clinic."

  "I think I should help you then."

  The woman shook her head. "For now, he wants me. If we need assistance, I know where to find you."

  Exasperated Renata turned away. If Lyle didn't want her help, she wasn't about to force herself on him. So why was she worried about him?

  She sighed. It was hard not to be a doctor.

  As soon as Wanda left, Adam locked the door and finished checking the room. The unit, while dated was clean enough. The small kitchen area had a table built against the wall. A bed, a mismatched dresser, a television, and two chairs filled out the rest of the room.

  The dresser drawers were stocked with clothes of various sizes. They obviously weren't the first fugitives this place had housed. The only thing missing was a telephone. Not that he would trust using it.

  Shoving the heavy drapes back slightly, Adam peered out. There was a pay phone near the office. He had little choice but to use it to call Zach. With the watchers, it would be tricky.

  He turned on the television, bumped up the volume before turning back to Renata. "We can talk now."

  "Is someone listening?"

  "I doubt it, but just case, the TV will cover our voices."

  Relief eased her brow. "What happens next?"

  "The plan hasn't changed. You'll be freed. Hopefully by nightfall."

  He moved closer, hovering. While he couldn't wait to secrete her away in his brother's care, to know she was safe, part of him didn't want to let her go. Stan had been right. She had gotten under his skin.

  He brushed at the dirt smudged on her cheek. A woman like her should be adorned in precious jewels, wrapped in satin and silk. What had he given her? Misery. Grief. Class act.

  He snagged the clean clothes he'd dug out and tugged her toward the bathroom. While sleep was the last thing on his mind, he knew she had to be exhausted. "Let's get you cleaned up. I'll see what I can find for food."

  He turned on the water then knelt to untie her sneakers. A simple act, but one he'd done enough times it felt familiar. Adam's reaction was familiar, too. He immediately grew hard.

  He didn't bother to fight it. But he did back away. With the pretense gone, there was no danger of her trying to escape, no reason to force her to shower with him. "I'll be right outside if you need anything."

  "Don't go. I, I don't want to be alone right now."

  The plaintive note in her voice reminded him that this was the first time they'd had a moment to themselves since the car had gone over the ridge. Being on the run had forced them to push the incident from consciousness. Now the aftermath surfaced. She was shaking.

  He tugged her into his arms. "You're a brave woman, Renata. You've been through hell."

  "I didn't feel brave back there. Not when I thought the car was going to explode."

  "It didn't." If it had ... For long minutes he simply held her. Everything had gone crazy. He had questions without answers and all his plans were in tatters.

  When she spoke again, her voice was husky. "Are you ever going to tell me your real name?"

  "I'd rather wait till it's over."

  She sighed, resigned. "The less I know the better, right?"

  "Actually, no." He pulled away slightly, cupped her chin. "When this is over, I want to see you again, on a personal basis. I thought meeting under my real name would give us a fresh start. But now that I'm hearing myself say it, it sounds rather lame."

  "No, it doesn't. And I'll look forward to that introduction." To his surprise, she reached up. Her fingers stilled over one of the buttons on his shirt. "May I?"

  At his nod, she slipped the first one free. Adam caught his breath. There was something erotic about watching this woman undo his shirt. She pushed the edges of the shirt aside, raked her fingers across his torso, over the scars above his left nipple.

  "Will you tell me about these someday?"

  Someday. The word suggested a future. And offered an option. For him not to tell if it was too painful. She didn't push. She didn't demand. She asked. His chest tightened. For the first time in his life he understood how shared secrets, shared intimacies, built bonds. How they also made one vulnerable.

  And as much as he didn't want to tell her the truth, he knew she deserved it.

  "My old man was the worst kind of drunk. Beginning on my eleventh birthday, I had to take him on, try to whip his ass. Every time I lost, he'd make a notch." Adam ran his fingers over the six marks. "I was a slow learner."

  "No one should suffer that."

  "As warped as it sounds, I looked forward to it. It was my only opportunity to strike back. I could usually get in at least one good blow before he nailed me. And afterwards, I had a full year to plan. I finally kicked his ass two weeks before I turned seventeen. He never laid a hand on me after that."

  Renata closed her eyes. She remembered his mentioning that his mother had abandoned him. What kind of woman left her child to such a fate?

  Her hand dropped lower, to the mottled scars that etched his chest and sides. "And this?"

  He hesitated. His father had decided one night that Adam looked too much like his mother. And while Adam had been able to keep the acid off his face, he obviously hadn't been able to completely disarm his drunken father.

  "Another ugly tale," he whispered. "Best forgotten."

  A million questions clamored in Renata's mind, but she quelled them for another time and let her natural instincts take over; her instinctive need to heal.

  She eased his shirt off his shoulders, off his arms. Bending close, she pressed kisses across his chest, taking her time, making certain every scar was touched. She felt him shudder as her tongue darted forward, warm and moist, soothing the tense muscles, caressing his flesh with her lips.

  When she finished, she straightened. One hand still stroked his chest, while the other strayed lower, stopping at the waistband of his jeans.

  "May I touch you? Here?" Her hand hovered.

  At his nod, her hand dipped lower, grasping his erection through the fabric, tracing the blatant outline with her fingers.

  He groaned in pleasure, but didn’t move to touch her. "Are you sure about this?"

  Renata met his eyes. She wasn't sure about a lot of things. Who Adam was. Or when she'd be free. But one question haunted her: What if something happened to him? The thought of never seeing him again tore a hole in her heart.

  She had feelings for this man. Whether they were right or wrong, or whether she'd regret them later remained to be seen. So much of this ordeal had been out of her control.

  All the more reason that, for now, she wanted to take charge of the one situation she could.

  "I'm sure of two things," she whispered. "I... want to touch you again. And I want you to make love to me."

  Chapter Seventeen

  Adam swore. Then apologized. "I'm sorry, but I've never wanted to hear those words so badly in my life."

  "Then I'll ask again." She unfastened the top snap of his jeans and eased her fingers inside. "Will you make love to me? Please?"

  With a groan he tugged off her clothes. One day, he'd slowly strip her clothing away, savor the sacred act of undressing her. Today, his sanity couldn't handle it.

  He lowered his pants, eager to be naked. To feel, to touch. His erection brushed the soft skin of her abdomen, the drag of flesh on flesh so electrifying he nearly climaxed.

  He slowed, gathering control. And giving her one last chance to back away—praying she wouldn't take it.

  "Are you sure?"

  She answered without words, pressing closer, rubbing slightly from side to side. He reveled in the delicious friction; wallowed in the sweetness of her welcome.

  She pressed another kiss to his chest, her tongue swirling, devouring the mottled skin. He g
ritted his teeth against the unfamiliar sensation and emotion it evoked. No one had ever kissed his scars. Made him forget they were there.

  He ran his fingers through her hair, marveling at its silky texture. She twisted her head and pressed her lips into the center of his palm. Another jolt shot through him as he caught her gaze. Her eyes were dark with desire. Longing. She wanted him.

  And in that moment he was entranced. He was her captive.

  He lifted her into the shower, closed the curtain around them. Then he put a hand on either side of her face and kissed her. It started gently, his lips moving lightly against hers. Her mouth parted. Eager. The kiss deepened and his tongue swept in, tasting her. Encouraging her. She responded, opening her mouth fully.

  Adam's world spun. Dizzy, he ended the kiss, resting his forehead against hers. She gulped air, proof she'd been equally affected.

  "I could do that forever," he whispered. "Kiss you."

  "Me, too. But what about this?" Her hand slid down to his hips, then angled toward his erection.

  "Easy, sweet." Adam stopped her. "It's my turn to go first. Remember?"

  She blushed.

  He chuckled and drew his hands up her sides. Knowing he could touch her freely, openly, was like mainlining an aphrodisiac laced with amphetamines. He felt a violent need to be inside her fully and completely, all at once; to press her against the wall and not stop until every inch of his aching cock was buried deep inside her.

  Except it would be all over before it started. He needed to slow it down.

  Grasping her shoulders, he turned her away from him, until she faced the wall. She drew a sharp breath, uncertain. But she didn't stop him. Her trust was humbling.

  "Shhhh." He drew wet fingers down her arms, massaging lightly.

  "Don't you want—"

  "Oh, I want." He pulled her back, flat against him, bringing her backside in direct contact with his erection. He rubbed sinuously against her; pressed himself into her lower back. "And I'll get. Eventually. For now I just want to enjoy the journey."

  "Did you think of this while you were locked up?" she asked. "I mean—"

  "I learned not to." His hands were at her waist now, sliding over her smooth skin. "It was hell."

  "I can't imagine. But it's over now." She arched backwards, intentionally thrusting against his groin. "So enjoy."

  With a growl, Adam cupped her breasts. Being taller, he could see over her shoulders, could watch his fingers massage the twin mounds, kneading, tracing their shape. He circled her nipples, teasing before grasping them. He wanted to taste her. All of her.

  He turned her around letting his eyes explore fully before allowing his hands to curve over her breasts again. Beneath his palms, her nipples hardened. He stroked and fondled before catching the tips between thumb and forefinger. He tugged lightly to test her reaction. She drew away ever so slightly, a wordless invitation to increase the pressure. He pinched softly.

  She drew another sharp breath, encouraging him. Her eyes fluttered shut as her hips thrust forward slightly. Her responsiveness pleased him. She had sensitive breasts and probably enjoyed extended foreplay. Lucky him.

  Adam kissed her again. She opened her mouth fully, welcoming.

  He moved to touch her once more, but this time his hand dipped lower, his fingers seeking the dark tangle of curls between her legs. He stroked and petted, spreading her, his way eased by moisture.

  "Open your legs," he urged. When she did, he pressed up and in, penetrating her with a single finger. She shuddered as he withdrew part way, stroked back in.

  Continuing his play, he withdrew his finger—replaced it with two and gently coaxed them inside her body. Stretching her, preparing her. While she wasn't a virgin, he guessed it had been a while since she'd been with anyone. She was so damn tight—he'd die.

  Her breath came in hurried, uneven pants. His thumb swept up, teasing her clitoris. She shifted against his hand, pressing. He responded, caressing her clit again and again, gradually increasing the pressure, the tempo. He watched the expressions play over her face, enthralled.

  She stiffened, on the brink of an orgasm. "But we haven't—"

  "It's okay," Adam whispered. "To do this."

  He quickened the pace, inflaming her. When she tried to hold back, he changed the rhythm, but kept the pressure unrelenting. "Give it up, sweetheart."

  With a cry, she came. Her eyes widened, then drifted shut as she pumped her hips against his hand. Lost. When the last tremor subsided, her head lolled to one side.

  He waited for her to open her eyes. "I owed you that."

  "For last night?" She looked disappointed. "You mean we're even?"

  He grinned. "We're even. But we're not finished."

  "Oooohhh."

  His hand hadn't stopped stroking her. He could feel the tension building within her once more. "Feel good?" he teased.

  "Good? You have an ungodly flair for understatement." She grasped his sides and pulled him closer to rub against his erection. "What about you? What about this?"

  "This definitely needs attention, but let's move to the bed first. Making love in a shower is overrated."

  He shut off the water and grabbed a towel, running it first over her, then himself, leaving them both more wet than dry. Carrying her to the bed he yanked the covers back with one hand and gently laid her down, making no move to join her.

  Renata felt reborn under his scorching gaze. That he liked what he saw made her feel powerful, vanquished her insecurities. Leaving her feeling deliciously feminine. She returned his stare, letting him know she found him every bit as desirable.

  "I'll be right back." He straightened and crossed the room.

  When he returned he tossed a strip of foil packs on the nightstand. She hadn't even thought of that part, had even tried to get rid of them earlier.

  Placing one knee on the bed he bent and kissed her. She felt herself burn. For him. Only him. Not sex. Not satisfaction. Him.

  She pressed a hand at his nape, her other hand trailing down to grasp at his hip, aching to get closer. Their coming together had a sense of inevitability. And their denying it had only made it grow stronger. With each touch, each stroke, she grew more frenzied; their uncontrolled passion threatened to consume her.

  She drew back just enough to close her hand over his thick shaft, uncertain of what to do—yet doing it. Her fist stroked up, down, pumping his flesh as she'd watched him do all those nights ago.

  "Harder. Like this." He closed his fingers over hers, showing her.

  His words emboldened her. She tightened her grip, milking his flesh, determined to bring him pleasure.

  He made a strangled noise. "That's it."

  "You like a firm touch."

  "We both do."

  To emphasize, he bent, took her nipple in his mouth and sucked lightly. He drew his tongue lazily around her aureole, teasing. Then he sucked harder, grasping her with his teeth and tugging. She arched beneath him.

  "More," she hissed.

  He raised, trailing kisses down her stomach to her navel, as he shifted to the end of the bed. He grasped her ankles, easing her legs open, before bending low, to press a kiss to the inside of her knee. Then he inched upward, edging her legs further apart.

  He nibbled at the soft skin inside her thigh, watched her jump. Continuing upward, he heard her draw a sharp breath as his cheek brushed her pubic curls. He inhaled, savoring her sweet scent.

  He debated kissing her there, but didn't. There would be time in the future to explore everything. When she felt more comfortable. And when he didn't feel like he'd die if he wasn't soon inside her.

  He shifted, trailing his mouth across her abdomen and slowly making his way back up to her breast. He latched onto her nipple in full and sucked. Hard. Her reaction was swift. Demanding. Her fingers speared through his damp hair holding him in place. Her hipsarched, brushing against his knee. He moved closer, let her rock her pelvis back and forth against his leg as his mouth continued its play o
n her breasts.

  At her whimper, he pulled away. Sitting up, he reached for a foil package. Opening the condom, he slid it on, pinched the end to form a reservoir.

  Then he moved over her, his large frame dwarfing hers. He rested his arms on either side, to support his weight as he gave her a moment to get used to him. To his body. As he got used to hers. She was so goddamned tiny. And as delicate as a butterfly. He felt scared and excited him at the same time.

  Renata felt his erection press against her as he slid his sheathed length against her center, not entering, just rubbing. He felt over-large, foreign. And she wanted him desperately.

  He pressed kisses above her eyes, then moved lower to catch her mouth. His pelvis ground against hers in that maddening back and forth motion. She moaned.

  "You okay?" he whispered.

  Renata rocked her hips, trying to increase the pressure while loath to break the kiss. He was driving her mad, taking her to the brink, then leaving her suspended.

  "I won't be okay until you're inside me. I beg you—"

  Adam silenced her, thrusting the head of his penis inside her. He paused, barely possessing her as he ran his lips along the edge of her jaw. "I should be begging you. For this."

  His sudden penetration made her dizzy. She'd expected it, craved it, yet still she wasn't prepared for his stark invasion.

  As the sharp edge of sensation melted into pleasure, she realized he had stopped on purpose—to allow herbody to adjust. She ran her hands down his back, urging him forward seeking relief.

  "Ready for more?"

  "All," she demanded.

  A wicked gleam lit his eyes. "My pleasure."

  Grasping her hands, he eased them up, one at a time, over her head. The move brought his weight more fully against her lower body as he slid further into her, filling her.

  Renata's world shifted. While part of her felt he couldn't—wouldn't—fit, another part knew he had to. She'd perish without this.

  "Ease your leg up," he encouraged. "It will help."

  She raised her knee. The move brought him fully into her. She felt her body resist, then melt. A raw, delicious ache followed by a slow, heated burn.