by Evie Hunter
‘I had to find some way to work off the frustration.’ He unzipped his jeans and pulled them off along with his socks. The tenting in his boxers was unmistakable.
‘Looks like you missed me.’
‘What makes you think that?’ With a grin, he dropped his boxers on the floor and eased into the bath. The water level rose dangerously; if they weren’t careful, they would cause a flood. She smiled. To hell with being careful.
Rising onto her knees, she stalked her prey, sliding along his body until they were chest to chest. His wet hands stroked her back, coming to rest on her buttocks, and she squirmed against him.
‘If you don’t stop doing that we might –’
‘Shut up,’ she said before cupping his face in her hands and capturing his mouth. The kiss in the car hadn’t been nearly enough. She devoured him, her tongue duelling with his in a long, open-mouthed kiss that went on forever.
His hands tangled in her damp hair, holding her hard against him, crushing her breasts into his chest. His erection nudged hard against her abdomen. He was more than ready and so was she. She pulled away, breathless. They were never going to make it to the bedroom. Flattening her palms against his chest, she pushed to a crouch.
The hunger in his eyes was unmistakable. He grabbed a condom from beside the bath.
‘I want you.’ Her voice was husky. Reaching between her thighs she seized his cock and slowly lowered herself onto it, gasping at the feeling of fullness as he entered her.
Niall gritted his teeth and closed his eyes. ‘Sinead,’ he gasped out her name.
Slowly, she began to move, rocking tentatively back and forth until she became accustomed to him again. Niall gripped the edge of the bath as her movements increased in speed.
Water splashed over the edge of the bath. She didn’t care. All she was conscious of was the sensation of him inside her. The sensation of warm water against her as she rocked against him, squeezing her inner muscles each time she rose before plunging onto him again.
Niall groaned. Neither of them was going to last. As her movements became more frantic, the water sloshed over the edge of the bath onto the marble floor. They were going to drown the place. Maybe they should move into the bedroom.
As if he read her mind, he said, ‘Don’t you dare stop.’
Sinead bent her head for another kiss and as she drew away, she spotted the sake bottle on the ledge behind him. A half-remembered tale from a dancer who had returned from a Japanese tour came to mind, and she wondered if it was true. There was one way to find out.
Reaching for the bottle, she tipped the contents into the warm bath.
‘Holy fuck,’ Niall roared.
The sake bath made her skin tingle and her blood feel like champagne. Mindless, she rode him hard, her eyes tightly shut, gasping his name with each downward stroke. Fireworks exploded behind her eyelids and her climax slammed into her, obliterating every rational thought. She was dimly conscious of Niall’s arms locked around her and his hips driving hard into her, prolonging her pleasure, until he followed her climax with his own.
She collapsed onto his damp chest, wondering if she would ever move again.
He managed a smile. ‘Did anyone ever tell you that you’re a witch?’
Sinead pouted at him. ‘Only when they’re being nice to me. What’s the matter? Can’t the big strong Ranger cope with a helpless little exotic dancer?’
He threw back his head and laughed. ‘You’d give a platoon of Rangers a run for their money.’
‘A whole platoon? What if I said I only wanted one?’
‘Any Ranger in particular?’
Sinead hesitated. If she didn’t do this now, she might lose courage. She pressed on. ‘I’ve had a lot of time to think about our relationship while I was in prison.’
‘And?’ The single word held an uncertain edge.
‘I think that you should marry me.’
During their time apart, she had imagined Niall’s response. He would kiss her passionately and say yes. They would find a hotel room and not leave it for twenty-four hours. Instead, he was silent. She had already refused him once. Had she left it too late?
Niall’s arms tightened around her. ‘I accept, but there are conditions.’
Conditions? What was he talking about? This was a marriage proposal, not a contract negotiation.
‘You know that I’m demanding, possessive and kinky as hell?’
‘I do.’
‘And that Lottie will have to come out of retirement on my birthday until you’re at least sixty?’
Sinead giggled. He had worried her for a moment, but these were the kind of conditions she could cope with. ‘Only ’til I’m sixty? I was hoping for some hot geriatric sex with an older guy.’
Niall raised a warning brow. ‘I’m only five years older than you. Keep it up and you’ll pay for that remark. Now, where was I? Oh yes. I want to be in charge in the bedroom.’
‘Always? Every night?’ Her voice rose. She couldn’t believe Niall was trying to make her agree to this.
‘Yes. Every night. Starting tonight.’
He was serious. She was looking at a lifetime of being … his … his sexual submissive. ‘You are such a …’
She couldn’t think of a word horrible enough to call him.
‘Dom?’ Niall flashed a dark smile that promised wicked things, and stroked the length of her back. Her eyes drifted closed in pure pleasure. He had such big hands, and they were so very talented.
She remembered the night Niall had tied her to the bed and made her come until she was too limp to move a muscle. He would always want to be in charge, whether she agreed to this or not. But there was no way she was giving in easily. She was an O’Sullivan after all. ‘I was going to say pain in the ass.’
‘I can be that too.’ Niall agreed. ‘But only if you ask nicely.’
‘I’ll fight you.’
‘I’m counting on it.’ He grinned. ‘It wouldn’t be any fun if you didn’t.
36
The discreet buzzing of the hotel telephone woke her the next morning. Sinead stretched, luxuriating in the width of the bed and the warmth of the man she was cuddled against. She would never get enough of Niall.
Life was good. Proposing to Niall had been a terrifying gamble, but he had accepted and now she could look forward to a lifetime of waking up beside him.
Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that all she’d had to eat the night before was fruit. Niall had promised to feed her to replace the weight she had lost in prison. She looked forward to it.
The phone buzzed again and he reached out a long arm to pick it up. The muscles flexed and she couldn’t help smiling as he lifted the receiver to his ear. How had she managed to find someone so beautiful? And she was going to marry him.
‘Yes?’ He was plainly annoyed by the interruption.
‘Monsieur Moore?’ Sinead could hear the receptionist clearly. ‘There are some members of the police here who wish to speak to Mlle O’Sullivan. Shall I send them up?’
Police? Damn.
His eyes met hers. He shook his head to indicate he didn’t know why they were here. ‘Send them up in ten minutes, we’re still in bed,’ he said, then hung up.
‘Why?’ Sinead asked. ‘I was cleared of the theft, I was found not guilty.’
‘I’ve no idea, but unless you want to talk to the police in your birthday suit, I suggest you get dressed.’
She bolted for the bathroom, splashing through a quick shower and dressing as fast as possible. That was one benefit of her past as a burlesque dancer: she knew how to dress quickly. Thankfully, her cousin Summer had visited her apartment and packed a small overnight bag for her. She was pulling on her old conservative pants and unflattering jumper when they heard a knock on the door.
Sinead recognized the tall Swiss officer from the trial the day before, but the small brunette was French. She introduced herself as Antoinette St Michel and spoke in perfect English. ‘I’m sorry to question yo
u when I know you must be tired,’ she told Sinead. ‘But you are a person of interest now.’
Sinead gestured the two detectives to the armchairs and she sat at the small writing table to give herself an advantage in height. Niall stood behind her, a subtle message to everyone that she belonged to him. His presence grounded her more than anything else.
‘Interest in what? I was cleared.’ She was proud that her voice was steady, and hoped that no one noticed the slight tremor that ran through her.
‘Yes, we heard about that. Congratulations on the outcome of the trial,’ the Swiss detective, Captain Cenis, said. He did not sound that pleased about it.
‘We are investigating the death of Maurice Verdon and we have uncovered a possibility that you are involved with his murder,’ Officer St Michel said.
Sinead sucked in a breath. ‘No, that’s impossible.’
Niall put a hand on her shoulder, steadying her.
The French officer continued, ‘We have found CCTV footage of you running away from the shop on the night Monsieur Verdon was murdered, and an eyewitness says that he saw you coming from the shop at 4 a.m.’
‘That’s ridiculous, Maurice was my friend. I interned with him.’ Sinead fought the quiver in her voice. She wasn’t going to dissolve into hysterics.
‘Do you have a key to his premises?’
Sinead sat up straighter. ‘Of course not, I gave it back when I left his employment.’
‘So you have had his keys in the past?’ Officer St Michel continued.
‘Well yes, but –’ Sinead stopped. When she had been his intern, she had keys to the outer doors and to Maurice’s office. She was certain she had given them back. Of course she had. But could she prove it?
Niall straightened up. ‘Where is this going? You can’t possibly suspect Miss O’Sullivan.’
‘We have to investigate,’ Captain Cenis said, taking out his notebook.
Officer St Michel put a small recorder on the table. ‘Do you mind if I tape this interview?’
Sinead looked at it as if it were a snake. ‘Do I need a lawyer?’ she asked the French detective.
Officer St Michel switched the recorder on. ‘Of course not. We are just investigating. There is evidence that links you to the murder. Your fingerprints were found at the scene, and we have unconfirmed reports that Monsieur Verdon was brokering an auction for the ruby you were accused of stealing.’
There was a stunned silence as they digested that. The police actually thought that they had a case against her. She had drunk coffee with Maurice, and touched various pieces in his office. Her fingerprints would be all over the office.
Officer St Michel asked, ‘Do you have an alibi for that night?’
‘I – I –,’ Sinead stuttered.
She remembered that night. Niall had accused her of lying and it was true, but he hadn’t known what she was lying about. That evening, he had taken painkillers and gone to bed, leaving her watching television in the lounge alone. She had fallen asleep in front of the box. The lounge was closer to the apartment door than to his room. She could have sneaked out and he would never have known.
And Niall knew it.
More and more, she regretted not telling him about Lottie from the beginning. If she had, they might have spent the night together, and Niall would be her alibi.
As it was, there was no one who saw her that night, and no one who could vouch for her presence when poor Maurice was murdered.
Could they arrest her for that? She hadn’t killed him, but she hadn’t stolen the Fire of Autumn either and look what had happened since then.
No, she couldn’t tolerate being arrested again.
Niall’s hand tightened on her shoulder.
‘She has an alibi,’ he said. She turned to stare at him. His eyes were calm, as if he were telling the truth. ‘She was with me all night.’
‘All night? Are you sure, Monsieur?’
‘Absolutely positive. There are some things a man does not forget. Sharing a bed with Lottie LeBlanc is one of them.’ There was a trace of irony in his voice, but she hoped she was the only one who would pick up on it.
‘All night?’
Niall nodded.
Captain Cenis closed his notebook. ‘If you are certain, Monsieur, then it appears we need to interview the other Mlle O’Sullivan.’
‘An excellent idea.’ Niall gestured them to the door. The two detectives stood up and shook hands with him and Sinead. ‘Do you know where she is?’
Captain Cenis shook his head. ‘No, but we shall find her.’
In the silence that echoed when they left, Sinead turned around. She leaned against the door and pinned him with her magnificent eyes.
‘You lied,’ she said simply.
‘I –’ Niall stopped. There was no point denying it. It was true. ‘I know you didn’t do it,’ he said instead.
She didn’t move, but her eyes shone more brightly, as if through tears. ‘No, of course I didn’t, but I can’t believe you lied for me.’
He stepped closer, so that he was looking down into her upturned face. Her beloved face. ‘You are mine now. I would never let anything happen to you.’ He tipped her face up to his. ‘Do you believe that?’
She smiled, her lips quivering slightly. ‘Of course. You always tell the truth. But what about Lottie?’
How could she do it, pin him on the one thing he hadn’t wanted to talk about? He shifted, trying to gather his thoughts. He had thought about little else for weeks but was still searching for the right words. Lottie still had the power to turn his mind upside down.
‘For years I’d had a thing about Lottie. Flynn and I used to joke about how one day we’d get lucky and get a BJ from Lottie LeBlanc. In my mind, I had turned her into this superwoman, an impossible vision of perfection. I never actually expected to meet her.’
He stopped and grinned at her. ‘Mind you, I did try. I used to go to all her shows, and would wait outside afterwards, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. And when she stopped dancing, I tried to track her down. No wonder I couldn’t find her, she was in the Rheinbach museum in Geneva, the one place I never looked for her.’
‘But you know Lottie isn’t real, don’t you?’
He tilted her chin higher, forcing her to meet his eyes. ‘She is real. She’s a part of you. She’s just not what I was expecting. But this is better. She’s not a figment of my imagination, she’s a living, breathing woman who kisses like a dream and has an ass I want to redden.’
Sinead gave an outraged gasp. ‘Saying something nice might help you more here.’ But there was a sparkle in her eyes that told him she was interested.
‘Look, I was an asshole when I found out. I couldn’t get over the fact that you had been lying to me. That you didn’t trust me.’
She put up her hand and held onto his wrist. ‘I wasn’t lying so much as not telling you. I’ve spent years keeping Lottie and Sinead separate. It was a habit that I didn’t see any reason to break. And the thing is that as hot and sexy as you were, I’d only known you a short time. I didn’t have reason to trust you.’
Niall nodded. It seemed that they had spent a lifetime together, but it had only been a few weeks. She was right. He hadn’t given her a good reason to trust him. ‘And now?’
‘Now I know you’d go to the wire for me.’
He couldn’t resist kissing her. ‘I’d walk on coals for you. Go to hell and back for you. Even eat bread for you.’ She laughed, as he had hoped she would. ‘But please, don’t feed me bread too often.’
‘I promise.’ Then she was serious again. ‘Have you forgiven me for not telling you about Lottie?’
‘There’s nothing to forgive. Sinead and Lottie are both fantasies of mine. I’m getting two for the price of one. It’s every man’s dream. And now that I’ve found you, I’m never letting you go.’
37
Her mobile phone rang and Sinead glanced at the display. It was Gabriel. He had visited her every week at the prison, trying to
keep her spirits up. The last time she had seen him was at the courtroom, where he’d been swallowed up by reporters and Lottie supporters.
‘Have you seen the papers, chérie? Your fans are delighted that you’ll soon be wielding your whip again.’
Sinead laughed. ‘Do you think it will protect me from Niall?’
‘You have never been a woman in need of protection, only love.’
How well Gabriel knew her. She glanced across the room at Niall, who was tapping the keyboard of his laptop. Sinead lowered her voice. ‘Thanks, Gabriel. For everything.’
It was an acknowledgement that their relationship had changed again. Over the years they had been friends, lovers, friends with bens – or as Gabriel called it ‘une aventure’ – and friends again.
‘For you, anything, always.’ His voice sounded husky.
‘Silver-tongued Frenchman,’ she said, trying to lighten the moment. ‘So, what’s new?’
‘A certain American has made us an offer.’
‘Oh?’
‘Three months in Las Vegas as part of his Legends of Burlesque revue.’
‘You know I don’t …’ She had been about to say ‘share a stage with another woman’, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. She had lost her job at the museum and she hadn’t seen Arnheim’s legal bill yet.
‘Relax, chérie – you will have your own stage. Two shows per day, three days a week, and you haven’t heard the best part yet. As I am no longer pretty enough to be on stage, I am to be your new choreographer.’
‘That’s not true. You are still pretty.’
She heard Gabriel’s sigh over the phone. ‘Your eyes are blinded by friendship. You know I can’t dance on stage any more. Not without a mask.’
She wanted to reject his words, but they were true. She listened as Gabriel recounted the conversation with the American producer. This was an offer she couldn’t refuse. Even factoring in the time it would take to develop a new show, the whole thing could be done in less than six months. She would clear her debts, get some money behind her and move on with her life.