Becoming Rain (Burying Water #2)(73)

Her jaw’s clenched tight, like she’s trying not to make a sound, not that anyone would hear anything in here. Maybe that’s what spurs me forward, makes my fingers move faster, a little more aggressively, wanting her to lose control. “Come on, Rain . . .” I mumble into her ear, grabbing hold of her lobe with my teeth. “Let me hear you—”

Her hand slaps over my mouth, smothering the rest of my words, a glare of warning in her eyes. Maybe dirty talk embarrasses her? I keep going with a smile, my own blood flowing south. Watching her lips part and her eyes close as she gets more and more wet, as she starts squirming against my hand, until she grabs hold of the back of my head and smashes her lips into mine, smothering any moans that might have erupted as her body spasms around my fingers.

I have no f*cking clue what’s happening in the movie anymore, thank God. Right now I’m ready to unzip my fly. I’m hoping Rain will return the favor, but I won’t ask. She seems to read my mind because her hand wanders over my lap, gripping me through my jeans, her thumb flicking the zipper pull.

And then her hand is suddenly gone. She collects her purse and panties from the seat next to her and whispers, “I need to use the restroom. Will you be okay here for five minutes? You know . . . with the scary aliens?” She points up at the screen.

I slap her ass in answer.

My head falling back in complete and utter frustration.

Chapter 38

CLARA

I stare at my flushed face in the restroom mirror, my hands shaking as I process what just happened. What I just let happen.

When he called me to go out tonight, I immediately suggested the movies, knowing it was a way to be with him without deceiving my cover team or worrying about what might be said. I figured it’d be a good way to slow things down a bit, too, while still gaining his trust, keeping his attention. We could hold hands, steal a kiss or two without Warner or Bill hearing anything over the blasts of the speakers.

Of course I picked a gory movie, something to steer my mind and body away from the fact that I don’t want to just hold hands and kiss. That the devil on my shoulder convinced me to wear a short skirt, and that I was wet the second my ass hit the leather seat of his car.

I can’t believe I just allowed that to happen.

While wearing a wire!

With my cover team listening!

I’m sure that’s not the first time this back row has served a tawdry purpose. It happens often enough. Two years ago, I got called to the local AMC to bust two sixteen-year-olds for indecent exposure after they got a little carried away. There have been plenty of “incidents” of guys going in alone and coming out in handcuffs because they felt compelled to jerk off. So where the hell do I fit in, exactly? The horny teenager or the pervert?

Desperate for Luke. That’s what I am.

I was keeping an eye on the entrance from the second we sat down, watching for someone from my cover team. I didn’t notice any lanky male forms slipping into the shadows. Even if someone did, he wouldn’t be able to see what was happening.

Still!

What if I’m wrong and the Feds now have the sounds of me getting off recorded, for all to hear?

Needing some reassurance, I pull out my phone. “Oh my god,” I groan, clutching my stomach, as I see the four missed calls from Warner. My phone was on vibrate, but I can normally feel it through my purse. If I hadn’t been . . . distracted, I would have noticed it going off.

It starts vibrating again.

I manage a weak and croaky, “Hello?”

“Where are you?”

“Restroom. Why?” I close my eyes. Here it is. It’s coming. I’m so screwed.

“12’s car just got jacked.”

It takes a moment for his words to register. “What!”

“Yup. Right out of the parking lot.” Warner starts laughing. “Serves him f*cking right.”

“Who the hell—” I dive down to check the stalls for feet. It’s empty, fortunately, but I lower my voice anyway. “Who would take his car?”

“Whoever it is, I’m about to give them a medal.” I roll my eyes as Warner continues. “One guy, definitely a professional. Punched in the driver’s-side window and reprogrammed the keyless entry. Forty-five seconds, in and out. I timed it! Got it all on video, too.”

“You sure sound impressed,” I mutter, groaning.

“Oh, come on! You’ve gotta admit this is pretty damn funny.”

I purse my lips together. “Yeah. The jackass does deserve it.” But, oh, man, is Luke ever going to freak out. He loves that car. I look at my watch. There’s still about thirty minutes left in the movie. “Did you put a tail on it?”

“I called Franky. He caught up pretty easily and is following him right now.”

“ ’kay. What do you want to do, boss?”

“We can’t give the locals a heads-up until 12 reports it stolen. I’m hoping he’s got a high-end tracking system on it that this guy doesn’t get to first.”

I stuff my panties into my purse. As short as my skirt is, there’s no way I’m putting them back on after they’ve been on that floor. “Got it. I’ll get him out of here.”

I duck back into the theater in a completely different frame of mind than when I left five minutes earlier. Luke’s leaning back in his seat, legs spread casually, a smug smirk on his face.