“I want you far away from them, too.”
They returned to the hotel and went directly to their suite. She noticed there were two security guards posted in front of the private elevator. She knew Aiden was responsible but didn’t ask if it was necessary because she knew he’d get huffy about it. One couldn’t be too careful. He’d say that or something similar.
It seemed to Cordie that Aiden never stopped working. He took his suit jacket off and loosened his tie, which, for him, was casual attire during the week. Then he sat down at his desk, opened his laptop, and for the next couple of hours didn’t move. At dinnertime they ordered room service, and Aiden didn’t waste time on chitchat. After eating, he put on his suit jacket, adjusted his tie, and went downstairs to meet some associates in the bar. He would have dragged her along if she hadn’t promised again and again that she wouldn’t leave the suite.
She was happy to be rid of him for a little while. She thought the way he worried about her was very considerate, but he was a little overzealous about it. A man had grabbed her arm, yes. And yes, it had been his intention to take her out of the hotel against her wishes. Still, he hadn’t threatened her or hurt her. He was only following Simone’s orders, and all she’d wanted was privacy for their talk.
After Cordie packed for the trip home, she took a shower and put on a black silk camisole and matching boxer shorts. More than anything she wanted to talk to Regan and Sophie and tell them more about meeting Simone, but she didn’t want to e-mail or talk over the phone. This needed to be an in-person conversation. She put on the terry-cloth robe, grabbed her lip balm and tube of hand lotion, and went into the living room. Restless, she curled up on the sofa and turned on the television with the remote. There was a special program on about great white sharks, and by the time it ended, she swore she would never go into the ocean again. Channel surfing, she found an old Sherlock Holmes mystery on the BBC. She settled in and tried to pay attention, but her mind wouldn’t cooperate. She couldn’t believe how tired she was, and it wasn’t even ten o’clock yet. Stress, she decided, was the culprit. She was anxious to get back home.
She couldn’t stop thinking about Simone. She’d never met such a cold, self-involved woman. How could Cordie’s father have loved her? Was it possible that Simone was different back then, when she was pretending to be Natalie Smith? Cordie doubted it. Maybe she was also pretending to be a decent, loving person. Maybe she’d been pretending all her life, never letting people see what was truly in her heart. Cordie’s encounter with Simone had been tense and upsetting, but it was behind her now. As she seemed to be doing over and over again, she vowed to let go of the past and move on.
Aiden came back to the suite much sooner than she expected. He looked tired, too. He barely said hello before he disappeared into his bedroom. Twenty minutes later he came back out. He had showered and was wearing sweats and a T-shirt. He moved her feet out of his way and sat next to her. His chest was still damp from the shower, and the T-shirt was molded to him. She tried not to stare, but God, he was ripped. His body was amazing.
“Are you watching this?” he asked, pointing to the television.
“Not really. You can change it.”
“The news should be coming on.” He looked around at the tables and down at the floor. “Where’s the remote?”
It took a while to locate it. He found her tube of hand lotion wedged between the cushions and her lip balm under the sofa. The remote was caught up in her robe. She stood and untied her belt, and the remote dropped to the floor.
The instant Aiden saw what she was wearing, all reason went out the window. Their eyes met, and no words were necessary. He gently pulled her down onto his lap. His eyes delved deep into hers as he slowly removed her robe and tossed it on the floor. Her camisole was next. Then he pulled off his shirt, and his gaze moved down to her beautiful breasts.
Cordie knew with one word she could stop him, but she didn’t want to. After the awful confrontation with Simone, she needed to lose herself in him. She didn’t care that all he felt for her was lust, that she was a convenience, nothing more. No, tonight she didn’t care.
She slid her arms around his neck and traced his lower lip with the tip of her tongue. When his hands roughly cupped her breasts and his thumbs brushed across her nipples, she sucked in a breath and held it.
“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he whispered. One hand moved to the back of her neck. “How many times do you want to come tonight?”
She couldn’t speak. It was all she could do to breathe. He didn’t wait for an answer. His mouth covered hers in a long, intense kiss. His tongue slid inside, coaxing her to respond. For long minutes he kissed and caressed her until they were both desperate for more. He swept her up in his arms and carried her into his bedroom and laid her on his bed. Her silk shorts tore in his impatience to remove them. Kicking off his sweats, he covered her body with his. He wouldn’t let her move, pinning her to the bed as he slowly moved down her body to kiss every part of her. He didn’t have to ask her if she was ready for him. Her need was so intense, her nails dug into his skin. When he entered her, the pleasure shattered her into a million pieces, and she cried out.
“You’re so tight.” He sighed. “So perfect.”
He began to move, harder, deeper, and faster until Cordie couldn’t hold back. She tightened all around him and clung to him, letting out a shout as she climaxed. The sensations coursing through her seemed to go on and on. It was both glorious and frightening. She was spiraling down, letting herself fall into the all-consuming rapture, and she never wanted to come back up. Aiden accommodated her. His endurance was incredible. She had two more orgasms before he finally found his own release.
It took much longer for Aiden to recover this time, longer, too, to let go of her. He was panting when he lifted up and looked into her eyes. He could see the passion was still there, which pleased him considerably. She was so responsive to his touch, so honest and giving. He kissed her again, long and hard; then, as before, he got out of bed without a word and went into the bathroom.
Cordie watched him disappear behind the closed door. She dropped back onto the pillow and laughed. No pillow talk, no cuddling, not even a high five. Her legs trembled and she felt weak as she got out of bed and walked into the living room. Dehydration, she decided, was the cause. That . . . and lots of sex. She found her robe, slipped it on, and got a bottle of water from the bar refrigerator, guzzling it down like a teenager at a keg party.
The phone rang. Normally she would have thought whoever was calling wasn’t very considerate, since it was after eleven, but Aiden got calls from all over the world, night and day.
“That’s probably Liam,” Aiden called out.
Cordie answered the phone expecting to hear Liam’s distinct British accent. It wasn’t Liam, but she recognized the voice. It was the same man who had called earlier asking for her father.
Now he was asking again. “Is Andrew Kane there?”
“No.”
“Will he be back soon?”
“Not likely.”
“Are you his daughter?”
Should she let him know her father had died? No, she wasn’t going tell him or Simone anything. “Yes, I am,” she replied.
His voice turned sinister. “Are you waiting for a payout?”