Stolen Heat (15 page)

Pete’s jeans grew incredibly tight. But not because of the blonde or what she was doing. No, he barely saw her. His attention was glued instead to Kat and her reaction to what she was seeing. Eyes wide as saucers, her mouth open in a little “o,” she watched the dancer in front of her, riveted by the scene. Once or twice she shifted against the cushions of the couch, as if uncomfortable with the situation, but she barely blinked. And the series of glances she kept shooting his direction, as if to gauge his reaction as the stripper gyrated and ground her hips around, only made him hotter with every passing second.

Had she ever been in a strip club before? He didn’t know. But the way she licked her lip, the way her top teeth sank against her bottom lip, nearly sent him over the edge.

Damn, he really didn’t need this. He needed to be watching the door, not her. He tried to look away, but then the stripper turned, bent over at the waist and lifted her dress high up her thighs, giving them both a clear view of her itty-bitty thong. Kat’s eyes grew even wider. The blonde ran her hand down the back of her leg and glanced around at Kat with a coy smile. Then she dragged her hands up her ass and pumped her hips in time to the beat.

Kat looked directly at him, and he didn’t miss the unmistakable flash of arousal in her eyes, would have had to be dead not to feel the electricity buzzing in the air between them. His erection jerked to attention in response, and he wondered if she was thinking of him as she swallowed and slowly went back to watching the dancer.

He didn’t know. But when she unzipped her jacket, lifted her hand to the silver medal hanging from her neck and rubbed her fingers against the warm metal and the edge of her white T-shirt, Pete knew he was lost. He couldn’t look away if his life depended on it.

She drew slow, easy circles over her peachy skin, each
time going a fraction of an inch lower toward her plump breast until Pete thought he’d explode. The whole time she was touching herself as if she had no idea what her own fingers were doing. At some point, Pete realized the stripper had ditched her dress, but he barely noticed. Heat colored Kat’s cheeks now, and the arousal he saw on her face forced him to adjust his own position on the couch to keep the pain of his growing erection at bay.

It could have been the music. It could have been the fact they were running for their lives and no doubt both had enough adrenaline in their systems to power a small city. Most likely it was the sex-charged atmosphere and the surging woman in front of them that was changing things. But whatever the cause, as Pete watched the stripper move closer to Kat and give her what he knew was her first lap dance, he still wanted her.

He might have every reason in the world to be ticked at her, but that didn’t change the fact he wanted
her
dancing for
him
like that right now. He wanted
her
wriggling her naked breasts in his face,
her
hands stroking over his shoulders,
her
ass grinding into his erection. And he wanted
her
mouth pressed hard against his as he thrust deep inside her.

A thousand visions of the two of them together spilled into his mind, igniting a rush of memories of the way they’d made love those months they’d been together. Slow and sensual by candlelight one night; swift and rough when he couldn’t think of anything but getting inside her as fast as possible the next. He swallowed hard as he continued to watch her breasts rise and fall under her T-shirt and her breathing grow more and more shallow.

The blonde straddled Kat then and leaned close. Her naked breasts brushed Kat’s cotton-covered ones, and she whispered something again in Kat’s ear. Mesmerized, Pete shifted for a better view.

Kat’s face turned the color of ruby red wine at whatever
the woman said, and she moved her head sharply to look his way. Emotions rushed across her features, and a desire he hadn’t seen in years flared in the depths of her eyes. And oh, yeah, he knew she was thinking of him.

Then the dancer cupped Kat’s cheek, turned her face back to hers and brushed her lips softly against Kat’s. Kat flinched, and her eyes went bug-wide, but she didn’t fight the gentle kiss.

Pete, however, almost came in his pants.

And just like that, the dance was over.

The music faded, and the blonde leaned back with a victorious smile as she reached for her gown from the floor. “So, big boy. Did you enjoy your show?”

Holy shit, had he.

Pete sat up straight and ran a hand over his face. Jesus, he was sweating. And so juiced he could barely sit still. For the first time, he realized the stripper was wearing nothing but stilettos and a G-string, but he really didn’t care as she pulled her clothing back into place. The woman he was solely interested in was suddenly studying the carpet like it might just jump up and bite her.

And he wasn’t entirely sure it wouldn’t. Considering what had just happened here, he was starting to believe anything was possible.

He stood, careful to tilt his hips and the raging hardon in his pants away from Kat’s line of sight as he pulled a wad of cash from his pocket. He had no idea how much he gave the blonde, but he wasn’t coherent enough to count right this minute. All his brain activity was focused elsewhere on deflation techniques.

“Is there a back door out of this room?” he asked. His voice sounded like gravel, a clear indication he was turned on to the max. He coughed once to cover it but knew it didn’t do jack to make him sound normal. The stripper smiled proudly, like it was all her doing, but it wasn’t.

Not even close.

As he waited, the blonde looked down to count the bills in her hand, and her eyes flew open wide, like she’d just hit the mother lode. “Sure, that door there.” She nodded toward what he’d thought was simply a wall.

No, not just a wall. A well-disguised door they probably used to kick the touchy-feely guys out of the VIP area. Maybe their luck was improving after all.

Kat stood, careful not to look at either of them, as the blonde pulled a business card she’d hidden like Houdini somewhere in her dress and slipped it into Pete’s jacket pocket. “I do private dances, too.” She glanced Kat’s way and winked. “I like her. Anytime she’s up for getting a little wilder, call me. I love threesomes.”

Kat’s wide-eyed gaze shot up, held on the stripper’s face, then jumped to Pete’s. He didn’t have a clue what she was thinking as color stained her cheeks, but when she quickly jerked toward the hidden door, he knew better than to dawdle and followed right at her heels.

The door slammed shut with an echoing snap. A long white hallway stretched ahead, contrasting sharply with the dim room they’d just been in. Pete blinked several times as his eyes adjusted. Muffled music seeped into the space from the club’s blaring sound system on the other side of the walls. They made it halfway down the corridor before Kat stopped abruptly and whipped back to face him.

Oh, crap. Here it came.

He braced himself for her outrage at what he’d just put her through, but instead of lambasting him with an onslaught of words, she shocked the hell out of him by grasping the lapels of his jacket, thrusting him back against the wall and closing her mouth over his in a kiss that nearly sent him to his knees.

The blood rushed out of his head and went due south to pool hard in his groin again. And all rational thought about lies and betrayal and would-be killers slid right out
of his head. All he could think about was her and what she was about to do to him.

He just hoped she’d do it fast before he could think of a reason to say no.

Kat was on fire, her blood a screaming roar in her ears. Every inch of her skin burned. But it was nothing compared to the searing need going on deep inside.

She shoved Pete back against the wall and kissed him hard, knowing it was a bad idea but unable to stop. The sexual tension had been building between them for hours, and she was in serious need of release. And at the moment she didn’t care how she got it.

His back hit the wall with a thud, and his body tensed as she crushed her chest against his, as their legs and hips came into intimate contact. His arms closed around her waist as she continued to kiss him, more to keep them both from hitting the ground, she knew, than for any other reason. But it still didn’t deter her. She was swept up in some insane arousal that consumed every part of her.

Frustrated when it wasn’t enough, she pushed her hands beneath his jacket to slide over his hard chest, changed the angle of the kiss and used her tongue to lick the seam of his lips.

He opened as if on reflex, and she used the opportunity to thrust her tongue into his mouth and kiss him deep. Liquid heat rushed through her veins, and she moaned at the first taste. Wanting more, she rotated her hips and rubbed her aching body against the zipper of his jeans.

Something shifted inside him. She felt it in the way his
muscles relaxed. Out of nowhere he let out a growl from deep in his throat, and suddenly he was kissing her back. Stroking his tongue hard against hers and tightening his arms around her waist.

Yes, yes, yes.
This was what she wanted. She pressed her hips against his again and felt his erection swell inside his jeans. He tilted his head to kiss her deeper, then slid his hands down to cup her ass and pull her tight against him.

She moaned again and shifted for a better angle so he hit her sweet spot with every rock of his hips. Tingling sensations shot through her core. He continued to kiss her as they rubbed up against each other in the empty hall. She knew if they kept this up she was going to come right there.

Visions of the erotic scene she’d witnessed earlier crashed into her brain, and the stripper’s whispered words filtered back through her mind.
Look at the way he’s watching us. He’s not looking at me, he’s looking at you. He wants you. Right now. Right here. Would you let him take you here if you could?

Oh, she was about to. She wanted Pete to fill her. Wanted to feel him erupt inside her when he came. She’d seen how turned on he was during that dance. She could feel it now as he hitched her up higher and pushed a hand inside her jacket to grasp her breast through her cotton shirt.

Electricity shot through her skin at the touch, sending a thousand pulsing waves straight to her center. Did it matter that he was only aroused because of what he’d watched? It shouldn’t. She’d been aroused by that scene as well. It wasn’t what the stripper had done or what the woman had looked like that had made Kat hot, it was the knowledge Pete was watching and enjoying the show. She knew it was wrong to take advantage of his aroused state to get what she wanted from him, but she was beyond caring.

She continued to rub against him, to delve deeper into his mouth with her tongue, to get as close as possible. From somewhere in the back of her mind—though, she fought it like hell—common sense pushed through the sexual haze and came to a grinding halt in the front of her brain.

They were standing in the back hall of a seedy strip club, about to have wild, rough, against-the-wall sex. Anyone could walk in on them at any moment. Busir and Minyawi were likely still close by, and if they found them, she and Pete were no better than dead. On top of that, though Pete was obviously sporting a massive erection and was kissing her back, she knew deep in her heart he would only regret it later.

It nearly killed her to break the kiss and pull back, but she did. Breathing heavily, she dropped her head to his chest and held on to his coat to steady herself. Just for a minute. Just until she was sure she wasn’t going to hit the floor.

His heart thumped hard against her ear, and he drew in ragged breaths like a man starved of oxygen. One of his hands was still wrapped tightly around her waist. The other had slid into her hair, where it was rubbing tiny circles against her scalp as he held her against him and tried to regulate his breathing.

Oh, she wished that was what he was doing. Just holding her tight because she mattered.

Her eyes slammed shut. “I’m sorry. God, that was…,”
stupid, idiotic, the best sex I’ve had in longer than I can remember,
“…not what I meant to do.”

His hand suddenly stilled in her hair. Then he quickly released his hold on both her head and her waist. “Yeah. I’m sure you didn’t.”

His voice was thick and gravely, but there was a clip to it she hadn’t heard before that made her grimace. She was
almost afraid of what she’d see on his face when she glanced up.

But she didn’t see anything. When she stepped back and looked, he was scrubbing both hands over his eyes. And when he dropped them, it was like a wall had come down.

Though his body still sported signs of arousal, his eyes were flat. She didn’t think it was possible to make him think any worse of her than he already did, but after that little nympho attack, she was obviously wrong.

“Pete—”

“Don’t sweat it,” he said again in a nonchalant voice. “We should go.”

That was it?

She stood stock still as he picked up her backpack from the floor and headed for the back stairwell at the end of the hall. He was going to act like nothing had happened? Part of her was shocked. Another part was weary. Weary from fighting the emotions brewing inside her. One minute he was the man she remembered, holding her close, kissing her with a burning passion she’d never felt from anyone else, saving her life when he could have easily looked the other way. And the next he was like a stranger, cold and calculating and brushing her off like she meant nothing to him.

She struggled to put the two together, had no idea if she ever would. And couldn’t help questioning why he’d come back for her in the first place.

As she watched him walk away, she knew she was back at square one with no one to turn to, wondering who she could trust.

So what do you do now, Kat? What have you always done?

She reached up to grip the St. Jude medal at her chest and thought back over her life. Her goals had always
saved her. As long as she’d had something to work toward, she’d been able to get through anything.

When she’d been an orphan, flitting from foster home to foster home, she’d paid attention and learned as much as she could so that one day she could make her own choices. When she’d been working on her doctorate and professors had told her she didn’t have what it took to be an Egyptologist, she’d muscled in and studied harder. And when she’d gone into hiding, decided to give up her entire life in one heart-wrenching moment, she’d taken it one day at a time, knowing that by staying in the shadows, she would keep the people she loved safe.

Goals. That was what she turned to when she needed strength. That was what she’d turn to now.

Her mother was gone. Marty wasn’t an option any longer because he was compromised. And her head screamed she couldn’t trust Pete either, no matter how much her heart wanted to.

“Pick up your pace, Kat,” he said from the end of the hall. “We need to make tracks. That goon’s probably still hanging around.”

Make tracks.

Suddenly, she knew just what she had to do next. Yeah, it would tick Pete off, but they’d both be better off in the long run.

The only question was finding the right time to do it.

Pete sensed something was up with Kat the moment they stepped out onto the street.

An ordinary person probably wouldn’t see it, but he’d known this woman better than anyone in his life.

At first he thought her shift in mood was related to what had happened in the strip club. Then he’d revamped his thinking and decided it was what had happened
in the hallway
of the strip club that had obviously thrown her so off kilter. Hell, it had certainly thrown him for a loop.
Especially her little revelation that she hadn’t
planned
to jump his bones, it’d just…
happened.

Talk about an ego crusher. Ever since he’d first seen her, his body had been lit up like a roman candle anytime he looked her way, and here she was telling him she didn’t really
want
him, she’d just simply been responding to her environment? Christ, this whole situation just got crappier by the minute.

He darted a look her way as they put distance between them and the strip club and noticed the change in her demeanor. It was subtle. A squaring of her shoulders, a lifting of her chin, a hardening of her eyes. She didn’t look worried or concerned about his or anyone else’s safety. She seemed determined, like she was in the midst of a major attitude adjustment.

Or she was planning something.

That didn’t sit well with him. Her planning something on her own had bad news written all over it as far as he could see. The last time she’d planned something, his life had hit the skids and stayed there for a long-ass time.

They walked four blocks in silence, sticking to the shadows as much as possible in the rundown neighborhood before they finally hailed a cab that took them over the Delaware River and into Camden, New Jersey. Thinking they were far enough away from Minyawi’s muscle and confident they weren’t sporting a tail, Pete signaled the driver and had them dropped off at some podunk diner off I-676 that served breakfast twenty-four hours a day. He couldn’t remember when he’d eaten last, and his stomach was growling.

There were only a handful of patrons in the diner when they stepped inside. A bell on the door chimed, and a darkhaired waitress looked up from the lunch counter where she’d been talking to a man in a 76ers cap. She nodded their direction. “Seat yourself,” she said. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

Pete scanned the room, with its Formica tabletops and cracked plastic red booths. Darkness pressed in through the wide, streaked windows, but a neon green motel sign across the street with its flashing vacancy notice made it through the grime. A couple who looked to be in their eighties sat near the window, forks in hand, watching them as if they’d never seen strangers before. A middleaged man was reading the sports page at a table in the middle of the floor and eating french fries doused in ketchup. He, at least, didn’t bother to look up.

Figuring the place looked relatively harmless, Pete gestured to a booth in the far corner where he could keep a close eye on the front door, just in case, and where they had instant access to the emergency exit in the event they might need it.

Kat slid onto the bench seat, the plastic creaking as she moved. She shrugged out of her parka and reached for a menu propped between the sugar dispenser and the salt and pepper shakers at the end of the table. “I’m starving,” she said with way too much enthusiasm.

Pete frowned as he sat, dropped the backpack at his feet and reached for his own menu. Just what the heck was up with her? She’d gone from being scared shitless in the park to insanely aroused at the club to perky Paula here, all within a matter of hours? He wasn’t buying it.

“What’ll it be?” the waitress asked, stopping at their table with a pen and pad in hand. She eyed them with a bored look.

Pete glanced at his watch. 9:52 p.m. The sign on the door stated the diner was open until ten thirty, which meant the waitress’s shift was coming to a close.

“Coffee,” Pete said and smiled, though it did little good. The waitress lifted her brows and regarded him over the top of her glasses. “Two.” He held up two fingers.

“I’ll have to brew it.” She glanced at Kat and sighed. “Anything else?”

Kat scanned the menu with ravenous eyes. “Let’s see. You’re still serving breakfast, right?” Without waiting for an answer, Kat said, “I’ll have two eggs, sunny side up. With wheat toast, hash browns and sausage links.” While she continued looking at the menu, the waitress rolled her eyes and glanced Pete’s way, ready for his order, but Kat stopped him before he could open his mouth. “Do you have those silver-dollar-size pancakes?”

The waitress nodded, glanced at her watch and heaved out a sigh that blew her too-long bangs out of her face. Suddenly amused, Pete slung one arm over the back of the booth and watched with familiar interest.

Kat still had a hefty appetite. That obviously hadn’t changed in six years.

“Great,” Kat went on. “I’ll have those with blackberry syrup. Oh, and a bowl of fresh fruit if you have it. A tall glass of milk, too.” She looked toward Pete.

The waitress’s pen paused on the paper as she looked up. “Instead of the eggs?”

“No, with the eggs.”

The waitress glanced between them. “Is that for both of you?”

Pete fought back a smile and closed his menu. “Cheeseburger and fries for me.”

The waitress looked back at Kat with wide eyes, almost as if she assumed there’d be more, and when Kat only smiled and closed her own menu, the woman shook her head in dismay and finally headed for the kitchen.

It was a scene he’d witnessed before. He didn’t know where Kat put all that food on her slim five-foot-seven frame, but he figured she had to have some superhuman metabolism to burn off all those calories because it definitely didn’t show on that compact body of hers.

And yeah, now he knew exactly what her body felt like thanks to that little foray in the strip club’s back hall. How firm her breasts were, how tight her ass was, how hot she was between her thighs.

He shifted on the bench seat to release the sudden pressure in his jeans at just the memory. He’d had his hands on her back at Slade’s garage, but then he’d been too drugged up to notice the difference he’d clearly felt only a few minutes ago.

What else was different about her now?

He watched her carefully across the table. She sat still, her hands folded on the Formica, staring out the window across the room. She wasn’t looking at him, but she hadn’t been avoiding eye contact either, which was another major tip-off something was up. In the park she’d barely been able to look him in the eye.