by Cynthia Eden
again, and Claire shuddered with the powerful release.
“That’s a good start.”
Her eyelashes lifted. Her breath heaved out.
“I like it when you scream for me, Claire.” He put on protection. Settled right back between her legs. “Let’s see if you can do it again.”
He drove into her. His hands lifted and pinned hers in place. His eyes locked with hers.
He filled her so completely. Stretching every inch of her, and Claire froze, caught between pleasure and pain.
“I wanted to fuck you from the first moment we met.”
She tried to suck in a deep breath.
“You feel so good.”
He still had his clothes on. She was naked. In only her heels, and he was fully dressed.
That knowledge made her feel vulnerable, exposed and—
“Will you scream for me again?” He withdrew.
She wanted him back inside, as deep as he could go. Her legs flew up and locked around his hips.
“So…damn…good.”
He thrust into her again.
Withdrew.
She met him, thrust for thrust. The rhythm became wild, so hard. He was in her so deep.
No pain.
Only more pleasure.
So much pleasure that the whole world seemed to explode. She wasn’t sure if she screamed or not. She only knew that after years of being cold, it felt as if she were in an inferno.
One that swept her up, hollowed her out, and left her aching for more…more pleasure.
More…of Noah.
His hold tightened on her. He drove into her again. Her sex was contracting around him, aftershocks from her release.
“Nothing like this…never like this…” He heaved into her. Tensed.
She was staring into his eyes when he came, and Claire actually saw his gaze go blind with pleasure.
“Claire!” He kissed her. “Mine…” Noah whispered against her lips.
His hands still held hers pinned. She was spread beneath him. Filled with him.
Surrounded by him.
Mine.
***
Claire woke when she heard the squeak of the bedroom door. Noah had carried her to the bedroom after he’d given her that mind-numbing, world-altering orgasm.
He hadn’t undressed. He’d put her in the bed. Held her.
She’d fallen asleep with his arms around her.
Only now he was…leaving?
“Noah?” She sat up, pulling the sheet with her as she glanced over at the bedside clock. The numbers glowed, showing her that it was close to midnight.
He was a shadow in the doorway. “Go back to sleep, Claire. I just have a little business to attend to.”
“Wh-what kind of business?” Business at midnight?
“I have to meet with the manager. We need to upgrade the security here.”
Because of her.
The sheets felt cool against her body. I’m still naked.
“Harrison won’t ever be let in this place again, and I want to make sure every staff member knows that. Chuck is waiting for me now.”
Chuck would know—as would everyone else who’d seen them enter the elevator—that they’d slept together.
I don’t fuck my employees.
“Thank you,” Claire softly said.
“You don’t need to thank me, baby. If I’d realized that SOB was in the city, hell, I never would’ve let him get within thirty feet of you.”
What had brought the man back to D.C.? She’d thought Colby stayed close to his place in Alabama these days.
“Get some sleep,” Noah told her from his position near the bedroom door. “I’ll be back soon.”
She climbed from the bed. The lush carpeting swallowed the sound of her steps as she went to him in the darkness.
“Claire?”
Her hand lifted. Pressed to his chest. She would’ve liked to see him naked. His shoulders were so wide. So built. He probably had a six pack.
She swallowed. “Thank you,” she said again, and she rose onto her toes. Her lips skimmed the hard line of his jaw.
But then his fingers sank into her hair. He tilted her head back. Took her mouth. Kissed her long and deep.
Her nipples tightened as they pressed into his chest.
“If you really want to thank me,” Noah rasped when his head lifted, “you’ll stay in that bed and be ready for me when I come back.” He let her go. “I will be back soon, Claire.”
She believed him.
She stood there, in the darkness, and a few moments later, she heard the sound of the suite’s main door closing.
Her body was so sensitive. He’d touched her—everywhere. Claimed her. Marked her.
Taught her about pleasure.
Claire knew she wouldn’t have much time, so she dressed quickly. She yanked her hands through her hair. Rushed to the smaller room she’d been given when they checked in.
She grabbed her bag. Wrote him a note. Because she suspected that he would look for her, and she didn’t want Noah to worry.
She also didn’t want to throw her troubles onto his doorstep. He’d been too good to her. He didn’t deserve to be yanked down into her hell.
Her note was simple. Short.
Then Claire rode the elevator down to the lobby. Even at midnight, there were still plenty of people milling around the hotel. She didn’t see Noah or Chuck, so she dashed across the lobby and hurried outside.
She paused to talk with the bellman, just for a moment. When he offered to get her a taxi, Claire refused. Why waste the money? Claire turned away and marched down the sidewalk.
And she didn’t look back.
***
A hard knock pounded against the hotel room door.
Colby Harrison jerked at the sound. Who the hell would be coming to see him at this hour?
Muttering, he climbed from the bed. He’d just gotten to sleep a few moments ago.
He shuffled toward the door.
The knocking came again. Harder. Almost…desperate.
Colby weaved a bit as he reached out for the knob. He’d been drinking. The drinks helped him. They always did. Without them, he couldn’t sleep at all.
When he tried to sleep, he thought about Ethan. Poor Ethan. Wasting away in that prison.
He squinted as he tried to see through the peephole on the door. He couldn’t see a damn thing.
A rough knock had the door shaking.
Furious now, Colby jerked open the door. “What the hell do you—”
His visitor’s hand flew away from the door. Had that hand been over the peephole?
Colby frowned. “I sure as hell didn’t expect to see you here—”
A gun was shoved into his face.
Terror flooded through Colby as he stumbled back. “Y-you can’t do this!”
Laughter. Then… “I can do anything.” The door was kicked shut. They were sealed together in that room.
The gun’s barrel was too long. A silencer. Colby licked his bone-dry lips. Tried to think. “I didn’t mean—”
The bullet blasted through his head before he could finish.
“I know exactly what you meant.”
Colby’s knees hit the floor.
“At least I didn’t make you beg.”
Colby slammed face first into the carpet.
Chapter Four
“Claire?” Noah opened the suite’s door, frowning as he called her name. He’d been gone longer than he’d planned, but there hadn’t been any help for that delay.
He’d had to be careful and not rush his return to her.
“Claire?”
She didn’t answer him. Noah figured Claire was probably asleep. He strode into the bedroom, but the bed was empty. The covers had been carefully arranged, re-made, and Claire was gone.
No.
He spun on his heel and nearly ran from that suite. When they’d checked in, Claire had been given a separate room, and he was in front of that room momen
ts later. He had a key, and he opened the door, not bothering with a knock. He was too pissed for a knock. The woman didn’t get to just run out of his bed in the middle of the night.
Her room was smaller than his, and in an instant, he knew she wasn’t there. The bed hadn’t been touched. Her bag was gone.
Hell, no.
The woman wasn’t about to pull one of her disappearing acts on him. Not when he could still taste her on his tongue.
Not when I want more.
Then he saw the note. Folded, right in the middle of her pillow.
He scooped it up and instantly recognized the hotel stationary. He should, he’d picked that shit out.
A flowing, feminine handwriting told him…
Thank you, Noah. You taught me more about pleasure than I ever expected.
And she’d made him hungry for more.
Noah balled up the note and shoved it into his pocket. We’re not finished yet, Claire.
Three minutes later, he was storming outside of the hotel. He turned to the bellman. He knew the guy—Blayne—had started at the hotel just a few months back. “Claire Kramer.”
Blayne swallowed nervously and straightened his suit.
“Blonde hair, five foot ten. Slender. She would have left here alone, probably within the last two hours.”
The bellman nodded. “I saw her. She was in a big hurry. Only stopped to talk with me for a few moments.”
“Which taxi company did she use?” Because he could call them. Track her down.
“She didn’t use a taxi, sir. I offered to get her one but…” Blayne pointed down the street. “She just started walking that way.”
Noah glared down that street.
It’s not that easy, Claire.
He started walking.
***
Vincent Finch stared down at the senator’s body. He’d called the cops less than fifteen minutes ago, and they were already on the scene and trying to push him out of the room.
“You found him just like this?” The detective asked. The detective was a woman, barely five feet tall, with coffee cream skin. Her partner was a blond male, and the guy towered behind her.
Vincent nodded. “I…I came in to my room late.” Because he’d been trying to pick up the waitress who worked at the bar across the street. “H-his door was open. I thought something was wrong and—” He broke off, gagging a bit, because he’d seen the spray left behind when the bullet sank into Colby’s head.
His brain.
“And you said the victim was Colby Harrison?” The female detective pushed. “Why do I know that name?” she murmured, as if to herself.
“He used to be a senator.” Vincent swallowed. He could smell the blood. “From Alabama.”
The detective—she’d introduced herself as Gwen Lazlo—scribbled down that bit of information.
“I’m guessing a senator could have a lot of enemies in D.C.” This came from the detective’s blond partner. Vincent couldn’t remember the man’s name.
After he swiped a hand over his mouth, Vincent eased out a slow breath. “There was an…incident earlier tonight.” And Vincent knew that he had to tell them the rest.
“What kind of incident?” the male demanded.
The screaming match would be in the news. Vincent had caught sight of the reporter at York Towers. “A woman from his past,” he muttered. “Her name’s Claire Kramer. She’s in town. She and the senator…they had words tonight.” Though now that he thought about it, he wasn’t sure that Claire had actually spoken to the senator at all during that tense exchange.
“She an ex-lover?” Detective Lazlo asked as her eyebrows rose.
Vincent shook his head. “She was involved with his son, Ethan.” He turned away from the hotel room. He didn’t want to look in there anymore. So Vincent stared down at his hands. “Ethan went to jail for killing Claire’s parents.”
The blond whistled.
“Sonofabitch,” Gwen Lazlo muttered. “That’s why I remember the guy’s name.”
There was more. Say it. “On my…on my way into the hotel…before I found the body…” His hands clenched. I’d always felt a bit sorry for her. “I thought I saw Claire outside.” He looked up and found the blond watching him.
The blond detective asked, “You think she might have killed the guy?”
Vincent held his gaze. “Claire’s parents were both shot in the head. Just like the senator was tonight. And Claire…Claire hated Colby Harrison.” With good reason. I hated the old bastard, too. “I don’t know if she killed him, I just know…Claire is a very distinctive woman. You don’t forget her once you see her.” Maybe he’d been wrong to feel any sympathy for her. “She was outside of the hotel. She was here.” Don’t look back at that room. “And now Harrison is dead.”
***
Claire sat on the stone steps, her arms curled around her up-drawn knees. The Lincoln Memorial was behind her, glowing in all its glory. In the distance, she could see the Washington Monument, reaching straight up into the dark sky.
Despite the fact that it was close to 4 a.m., Claire wasn’t the only one hanging out near the Lincoln Memorial. So many people were there. Walking. Talking. Taking their pictures.
Plenty of people.
So why did she feel so alone?
“I figured I’d find you here.”
At that deep, familiar voice, Claire’s head turned and she saw Noah, walking up the steps toward her. She scrambled to her feet.
He kept coming. Slowly. Stalking up those stairs.
Her heart was racing in her chest now. He wasn’t supposed to come after her.
Noah didn’t stop his advance, not until he was right in front of her. “Why did you run from me?”
She shook her head.
“You liked being with me. I know a woman’s body. I could feel your pleasure.”
A lump rose in her throat, and it took Claire two attempts to actually speak. “I screamed for you,” she whispered, not wanting anyone but him to hear her words. “I-I…never expected that.”
“Then why leave me?” His words were harder. Sharper.
Claire squared her shoulders. Her bag was at her feet. “Because you don’t fuck your employees.”
He kept staring at her.
“You fucked me, so I’m not your employee any longer. I thought it would be…easier…if you came back and I wasn’t there.”
“It wasn’t easy.” He bent and grabbed her bag. “Where the hell were you going?”
“Some place new,” she told him, her voice still soft. “Some place—”
“Where you hoped Harrison wouldn’t find you? Forget him. He’s done. He’ll never bother you again.”
If only she could believe that.
One of his hands easily held her bag while his other hand brushed over her cheek. “Do you seriously not realize just how much power I have? I can bury the man. I will bury him. You don’t have to fear him again.”
Hope was fragile as it tried to rise in her heart. She wanted to believe him but…
We still fucked. Noah had told her that they couldn’t work together if things got personal. She had to move on.
“Do you want to leave me?” Noah asked her as his body seemed to surround hers. “If you do, Claire, if you really want to go, I’ll let you get on my jet, and I’ll have it take you any place you want.” His hand fell from her skin.
I want his touch back.
“But I don’t want you to go.” His voice was a deep rumble. “I want you with me. In my bed. Screaming my name again. One night wasn’t enough for me.”
It hadn’t been enough for her, either.
He stepped back. “Your choice, baby. Always yours. Stay or go, but you won’t get to cut out on me in the middle of the night again. If you stay, then you’re mine.”
“My job—”
“I’ll work it out. I’m the boss, and that means I can do anything.” His eyes glinted. “Even break my own rules. For you…I’d break any rule.”
She wanted to take his hand. So badly. So very badly.
“What’s it going to be? Do you want to be with me? Or…”
Are you gone?
The question hung between them.
Claire had no one. Nothing. The clothes in the bag were really Noah’s. If she left, where would she go?
Do I even want to leave him?