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Her feet almost came off the floor, and her head bumped the wall. He swore and slid one arm around her hips, holding her to him as he swung her around and took her to the bed. He didn’t pull out, didn’t change their basic positions, just bent her over the bed and began pumping.
Normally she needed direct stimulation in order to climax, but she was so ready for him just the friction of those long strokes was doing it for her. There was something about the combination of adrenaline, the sensuous leather on her bare skin, the knowledge that she was naked except for his coat, while he was still fully clothed, the primitive position, that was sending her responses soaring. She clenched her legs together, tightening herself around him, and the feel of that next stroke squeezing him deep into her was all that was needed. Choking back a scream, she buried her face against the bedspread and gripped fistfuls of fabric as the spasms of release shook every muscle in her body.
Swain leaned over her, bracing his hands on each side of her shoulders, driving so strongly that the impact of each thrust shuddered through her. He made a guttural sound, his penis growing impossibly hard; then he began short-stroking and his back arched and he began to climax, gripping her hips hard and grinding against her.
Five minutes later, they both managed to stir. “Don’t move,” he said thickly, drawing back and sliding the leather coat up so he could look at her bottom. He groaned and shuddered. “Oh, yeah, I think I’ve just discovered a fetish.”
“Mine or yours?” she managed to say. Little lightning bolts were still zinging through her and she suspected the same thing was happening to him, because he hadn’t softened very much.
“God, who cares?” He blew out a breath and gripped her buttocks hard, spreading the cheeks and dragging his thumbs down the crease until they met where her sensitive flesh was stretched tightly around his erection.
Her entire body flexed at the sensation as he massaged her; then gradually she relaxed under the soothing ministration. “This is depraved,” she murmured sleepily. “We were shot at tonight; we should be upset, not turned on.”
“Adrenaline does funny things to the system, and you have to burn it off somehow. But if this is how you react, I’ll start shooting at you myself.”
She shook with laughter, making him slip out of her. Groaning, he straightened and began to pull off his clothes. “C’mon, let’s take a quick shower. I worked up a sweat.”
She shrugged out of the leather coat and went with him into the bathroom. She’d have liked a long soak in the tub, but was afraid she’d fall asleep, so she settled for a shower. Refreshed, she put on clean underwear and one of his shirts, and a pair of socks so her feet wouldn’t get cold. The room was untidy, with clothes scattered everywhere, but she wasn’t in the mood to pick them up, and other than hanging up his leather coat—he had to take care of that coat—evidently neither was he. Instead, after pulling on a pair of pants and nothing else, he opened the duffel bag and began testing the bars of Semtex.
The good bars went on one side of him, the bad ones on the other. After all the bars were out of the duffel, there were only five bars that were too old to be used. “We’re okay,” he said. “There’s enough of the good stuff. I allowed for some of it to be bad, just in case.” He began packing the good bars back into the duffel.
Lily nudged an old bar with her toe. “What are we going to do with these?”
“I guess putting them in the trash might not be too smart. The only way I know of to dispose of plastique is burn it or blow it up, so I guess we’ll have to take them with us to the laboratory, try to detonate them with the others. Even if they don’t blow, they’ll burn in the fire.” He had acquired a combination tool—knife, pliers, miniature saw, and she didn’t know what else, all in one handy-dandy implement that was banned on all airlines—and he used the blade to notch the old blocks so he wouldn’t get them confused with the others. Then he replaced them in the duffel, and stowed the duffel on the top shelf of the closet.
“I hope the hotel’s too classy to have nosy maids,” he said, then yawned. “I could use some sleep. How about you?”
Lily had gotten progressively sleepier since getting out of the shower, and his yawn triggered hers. “Fading fast. What’s our next step?”
“Detonators, radio controlled. We’ll have to be a safe distance away when I set off the charges, and running hundreds of yards of det cord all through the lab might make someone suspicious. Once we have the hardware, then we’ll work on the peripherals: the business cards and coveralls, the van. They won’t be that hard to get, and a magnetic sign on the side of the van will take care of the customization.”
“There’s nothing else we can do tonight, then.” She yawned again. “I definitely vote for bed.” Now that the adrenaline rush was gone and the bout of earthy sex had relaxed her, she felt as if her bones were turning rubbery. She turned toward the bed and left him to take care of the lights. She was so tired all she did was pull off her socks; then she fell into bed.
She was vaguely aware of him peeling her out of his shirt, then skimming her panties down and off. She could have slept comfortably in both, but liked being naked in his arms. She sighed as he got into bed and cuddled her close to him. Her hand drifted across his chest. “Love you,” she mumbled.
His arms tightened around her. “I love you, too.” She felt his lips brush her temple; then it was lights-out for her.
Swain lay awake for a long time that night, holding her close and staring into the dark.
On Saturday, D-day, Lily took her time in front of the makeup mirror. The disguise had to be as good as she could make it, or this wouldn’t work. If Dr. Giordano spotted her, all bets were off.
Her options had been either to cut her hair short and dye it or to buy another wig. She didn’t mind coloring her hair, but she didn’t want to cut it as short as a man’s unless there was nothing else to be done. Luckily, very good wigs were available in Paris. The one she bought was longish for a man, but not inordinately so. Nor had she wanted to duplicate the brown color she had used as Denise Morel, or her own blond color. That left black or red. She had opted for black, as it was a much more common color than red. In fact, most of the world’s population had black hair. Over the wig she wore a cap printed with the initials of the fictitious security company Swain had invented, Swain Security Contractors, SSC. He had gone with an American name, since there was no way he could convince anyone he was anything but American.
She had practiced with the latex of the sort used in movie makeup. She was nowhere near as good as a makeup artist, but she didn’t have the luxury of years of practice to perfect her technique. She could widen her jaw a tad, build up the bridge of her nose so she had a classic Roman profile instead of a near-beak—which was the only way she could think of to disguise her profile, which was every bit as distinctive as her eye color—darken her brows and lashes, and add the mustache to hide her full upper lip. She had decided against building up her brow ridge, because she never could get it right and always looked Neanderthal. Dark brown contacts—darker than the hazel brown she had worn as Denise Morel—and wire-framed glasses completed the facial disguise. She had to be skillful with the base that colored the latex the same shade as her skin, because she didn’t want anyone to notice that she was
wearing makeup.
She had even covered the tiny holes in her pierced earlobes with the latex. A man might have one ear pierced, might even wear an earring to work, but most men definitely did not have both ears pierced. She supposed some did, but she didn’t want anything about her to attract attention.
The cold spell that had ushered in December was still with them, which was a blessing. To hide her figure she had wound a wide elastic bandage around her breasts, and the dark blue coveralls she wore were loose enough to disguise the shape of her hips. The weather was cold enough that she added a lightweight fiber-fill vest over the coveralls, and that last touch completely hid her figure. Thick-soled work boots with lifts added three inches to her height.
Her hands were a problem. Her nails weren’t polished and she had clipped them very short, but her fingers were slender and undeniably feminine. Because of the weather she could wear gloves while she was outside, but what about inside? She couldn’t help Swain plant the charges and keep her hands in her pockets at the same time. The best she could do was use blue eyeshadow to outline the veins on the backs of her hands and make them look more prominent and, as a crowning touch, add adhesive bandages to two of her fingers to give the impression that she sported the nicks and cuts of someone who did work with her—his—hands.
At least she wouldn’t have to talk much. Swain was the mouthpiece; she was the labor. She could pitch her voice into a lower register, but that was hard to maintain. To coarsen her voice for when she did have to talk, she had forced herself to cough enough to irritate her throat.
Swain, of course, thought her hoarse voice was sexy. She was beginning to think she could sneeze and he would find it sexy. As often as he’d made love to her over the past week and a half, she suspected he’d lied about his age and was really just twenty-two, with premature gray in his hair. Not that his attention wasn’t flattering; in fact, she soaked it up like a plant starved for rain.
However, it wasn’t as if they hadn’t been doing anything other than going at it like bunny rabbits. Either Swain had a talent for locating the sleazoids in the city, or he had some really questionable acquaintances. While Lily—always disguised—had handled the peripheral things they needed, such as locating a van that fit their requirements and having two magnetic signs made, getting the business cards printed up as well as forms with very official-looking technical checklists on them and “SSC” at the top, clipboards, a variety of tools, their coveralls and boots, Swain had been associating with some very rough characters in order to buy the detonators they needed.
