She did.
“Hold tight.”
She did.
And he thrust into her as hard and deep as he could go.
Just as Noah had known…the feel of her sensual grip pushed him right over the edge. There was no holding back this time. No slow build. No sensual foreplay.
He thrust, and he took.
And he wanted everything that Claire had to give.
She was arching against him. Squeezing him with her tight little sheath. She was so tight it was almost as if she were a virgin.
She’s mine.
He lifted her up, easily controlling the motions of her body. Then he pulled her back down as he thrust again. He made sure his c**k slid over her clit, and Claire gasped.
Then she moaned.
He did that same move again and again. He was so wild for her, so desperate. He pinned her to the door. Thrust deep. Loved it when her nails scraped over his skin.
He put his mouth on her throat. He could feel the frantic beat of her pulse beneath his lips. Her scent surrounded him.
When she came, it was his name that she cried out.
He erupted right after her.
Noah’s breath sawed out of his lungs as the release pounded through him. It seemed to never end, and her sex was squeezing his c**k and damn near making his eyes roll back into his head.
Finally, finally, his heart rate started to slow down. He was still holding her against the door, and he hoped he hadn’t scared her. He’d be better next time. He’d be—
“I like that,” Claire whispered. “Can we do it again?”
Hell, yes.
He kissed her.
***
Noah glanced at the clock. “Come on, Claire, we need to go. The jet’s waiting on us.” The sooner he got her back to New York, the better he would feel.
The bathroom door opened. “I’m ready.” She was wearing all black—the woman just looked good in black. Black pants. Black top. Those sexy shoes he loved.
Get her on the plane, then f**k her. Those were his immediate priorities.
He grabbed her bag. “Let’s go.”
She nodded and hurried to keep up with him. He didn’t want to tell her why they needed to rush. Claire would just worry. She’d been in the bathroom when he got the phone call that tipped him off about the visitors coming their way, so she didn’t know what was happening.
I’ll tell her…later.
When he got her in the elevator, he pulled Claire into his arms. He kissed her long and deep. The woman still tasted like candy to him.
But he forced himself to pull back a few seconds later. The doors slid open. He locked his fingers with hers. Claire. He finally had her just where he needed her to be.
They stepped into the lobby. Hurried toward the hotel’s main doors.
From the corner of his eye, he saw a couple talking with Chuck. The woman was small, attractive, with light brown skin and a haircut that skimmed her jaw. A blond male was at her side. Tall. Wide shoulders.
Something about them put Noah on alert.
His fingers tightened around Claire’s. They were almost to the doors.
“Mr. York?” The voice calling to him belonged to the blond male.
Noah kept walking.
Claire stopped.
Dammit. When she stopped, he had to stop, too.
“Mr. York? I’m Detective Lane Scott. I’ve got some questions for you.”
Claire still wasn’t moving. Because of that, Noah had to turn and fully face the cops—he was sure the woman was a cop, too.
“What’s happening?” Claire asked as she edged closer to Noah.
Then the man and woman were right before them. The guy’s gaze slid to Claire. “You’re Claire Kramer.”
Claire nodded.
The woman with Lane Scott asked, “Want to tell us where you were last night?”
Noah stepped in front of Claire. “What’s this about?”
The woman’s dark eyes cut his way. “I’m Detective Gwen Lazlo. Lane and I work the D.C. homicide division.”
“Good to know,” Noah murmured. “But we’ve got a plane to catch.”
“Senator Colby Harrison was murdered last night,” Gwen said. When she made this reveal, she’d made a point of maneuvering to the side so that she had a line-of-sight with Claire.
“What?” Claire gasped.
“Um…” That non-committal sound came from Lane. “Someone shot the guy—right in the head—last night between one and three a.m.” Lane paused as his gaze swept over Claire. “Where were you then, Ms. Kramer?”
Noah turned back to Claire. She’d gone ashen. Her eyes were too wide.
“In the…in the head?” Claire whispered.
Just like her parents.
Because he’d read the autopsy reports on them. He’d needed to read them, had to learn as much as he could, after he’d met Claire.
“It’s all right,” Noah told her and he made sure that his voice was calm. “Look at me, Claire. Look at me.”
Her gaze met his.
“It’s all right,” he repeated. They had to be very careful here. If Claire hadn’t left last night, his staff would have been able to vouch for her.
I didn’t count on her leaving.
That had sure wrecked his plans.
Claire nodded slowly.
“I don’t know that it is all right,” Lane drawled.
Noah glanced back at him. The blond was scratching his jaw.
“I mean, a man is dead. Half of his head was blown away and—”
Noah heard Claire’s sharp inhalation of breath. His jaw clenched. “Be very careful how you proceed, Detective,” Noah warned him. “You don’t want to make any enemies today.”
Lane’s eyes widened. “You threatening me?”
Noah had to laugh. “Threats are useless. Why bother with them? I make promises.”
Lane glanced at his partner.
“Ms. Kramer hasn’t answered our question,” Gwen said, voice tight. “We need to know her whereabouts. It’s come to our attention that she and the victim had an…altercation last night.”
“Bullshit,” Noah snapped before Claire could speak. “I’m the one who had an altercation with the drunken idiot. He came into my hotel and insulted my guest, so I threw his ass out.” He flashed his teeth in a hard grin. “End of altercation.”
“But Ms. Kramer—” Gwen pressed.