Rules of Survival(51)
I moved again, another wave of electricity rippling through me. This time his hips rose to meet mine, increasing the sensation and stealing the breath from my lungs. Shaun growled. The sound was like ten thousand tiny needles all pricking my skin at the same time. He jerked his hands down, dragging my left one along, and slipped them under my shirt.
Heat, nearly volcanic, exploded as he dragged his fingers across my skin, palm down. A moment later, he shoved me up, into a sitting position. “Don’t stop. Keep moving.”
I braced myself against him with my free hand and began moving. The feel of him, rock-hard beneath me, made my insides quiver. His hands came to my breasts, palming them once before his fingers hooked over the edge of my bra and dragged the cups down in a single, violent pull. Then, with deft movement, he pulled his own shirt up, tucking it behind his head.
Skin on skin now. I felt like I was about to die. Taking the right nipple between his fingers, he squeezed gently, then twisted just a hair. I sucked in a sharp breath and arched my back. Suddenly there were too many layers between us. I wanted to feel that way all over. Skin against skin everywhere.
Shaun must have been thinking the same thing. He pulled his hands from under my shirt. The right one, the one cuffed to mine, he rose above his head, which caused me to bend forward. With a chuckle, he hooked a leg over and had our positions reversed in a single, dizzying move.
“God,” he growled. “Touching you makes me crazy.” He laid his left hand on my face, then dragged it up and through my hair, fingers knotting into a large chunk as he ground his hips against me.
I bit back a scream, arching into him. Who knew how far we would have gone if the red and blue lights hadn’t broken through the trees, followed by the sound of a siren.
“Shit,” he cursed, rolling sideways and taking my hand. Like I weighed nothing more than a feather, he fixed his shirt and pulled me to my feet and tucked us behind the large pine tree.
“What’s going on?” I asked, trying to fix my bra with my free hand. The last thing we needed was to be in the middle of a raid.
“Cops,” he responded, breathing still heavy. He turned to me, eyes full of heat and hunger. “We should move.”
Chapter Seventeen
By the time midmorning rolled around the next day, I had a wicked knot in my back, a sore neck, and my face buried in the crook of Shaun’s arm. We’d run farther into the woods and waited. Thankfully no one had come, but the risk of heading back to the field was too high. We’d settled in the crevice of several large boulders.
“Hey there,” Shaun said as I opened my eyes. He was grinning, eyes bright. Definitely one of the better sights I’d ever woken to.
“Hi,” I whispered back. Not even sixty seconds awake and my heart was already humming.
He pushed forward and brushed his lips to mine, pulling away for a brief moment only to dive back in, this time igniting my insides and really waking me up. When he finished, he pulled away and winked. “Sorry. Just had to be done.”
I smiled. Not the forced, fake thing I’d mastered over the years, but a new expression. One that was genuine. Happy. I was freaking happy. How the hell I could be happy while chained to someone and running for my life, I had no clue, but there it was. Happy.
Shaun wiggled from the rocks and climbed to his feet. Helping me up, he asked, “So what’ll it be, Plan Girl? Mick Shultz?”
I straightened and stretched, trying to get rid of the knot. All I succeeded in doing was making it worse. I’d slept in some funky positions before, but this one took a spot in the top five—bad and good. Shaun. I’d curled up beside him and drifted to sleep—not because we were shackled together, but because I wanted to.
“Yeah. I think that’s the best bet we have for getting some solid info. Just one small problem.”
He cocked his brow and I nearly melted. Damn. Each moment we spent together presented a new secret. A quirk or odd expression. The way the corner of his lip twitched as he slept. Small things that would have gone otherwise unnoticed, all there and glaring at me like the sun. “What?”
“Finding him. My entire life, Mom never did anything using her real name. Since Mick is one of her partners, there’s a good chance he’s wanted for murder, too—or at the very least theft. And God knows what else. No way is he walking around with an ID that says Mick Shultz. He’d be using an alias.”
Shaun frowned. “That’s a good point. Want me to call Pat?”
“Not really…but I’m not sure there’s another option. There’s a woman in Dutchess—probably only a few hours or so from here—that Mom was sorta friends with. She might know something, but…”
“But things with Gerald turned out badly. Who’s to say it won’t happen again?”
“’Zactly.”
“So…?”
I sighed. “I guess we try Patrick again. I’ve got no idea how, but he was able to track Mom all those years despite name changes. Maybe he can figure out what alias Mick is using and point us in the right direction.”
He nodded and took my hand. “I saw a pay phone around the corner when we came through last night. Should be safe to head back that way.”
We wove through the woods, then the lot, as quietly as we could, and made our way around to the front of the building. It was still early. The clock on the bank sign across the street read 11:05.