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White heat ripped around her body. She fell back on the bed and, without even thinking about what she was doing, parted her thighs, watching him kneel between them. He was naked too now. He lifted her foot and licked it, then snaked tiny kisses up her leg, towards the tiny, neglected strip of pubic hair.
He spread her thighs wider, and as his tongue connected with her clitoris, arrows of lust fired around her body. His lips moved upwards, to her belly, her breasts, her neck, until he kissed her lips once more and she could smell herself on him and all she wanted, right there, right now, was to feel him inside her.
He lowered his hand to help ease himself into her, fulfilling the wish she need not vocalise, and she cried out with the sweet, exquisite pleasure of being woken from a deep and sexless slumber.
They moved in motion. He cupped his hands around her thighs to rock more deeply into her. He was rough and yet exquisitely tender, rolling her over until she straddled him. She arched her back as he held her hips, not believing that her body could feel like this. She ran her hands over her breasts, over her hard nipples, and down the curves of her body. She wanted to touch herself, feel the skin that seemed to tingle beneath her fingertips. And just as she was about to explode, he curled his finger into her, stroking her secret, throbbing nub until her stomach contracted tighter and tighter, then detonated shock waves to every nerve ending in her body, lust, loneliness and grief colliding in one fireball of desire.
The orgasm finally shrank to a stop. She lay back on the soft pillows, regulated her breathing, and tried to work out what the hell had just happened. But all she could think about, all that she knew for sure, was that it was the best sex she had ever had in her life.
34
Ross hadn’t been doing his hacking by the pool, as Rachel had imagined. In fact, the Blue Parrot Inn didn’t have a pool, or anything else much. Its sole attraction seemed to be the Coke machine in the lobby.
‘Why’s he staying here?’ whispered Liam. ‘I mean, you get to stay at Round Hill; what’s Ross got against luxury?’
‘I think he was trying to go under the radar,’ said Rachel as they let themselves into the room. The half-drunk hotelier had just shrugged and pushed across the key when Rachel had waved five dollars under his nose. Ross, it seemed, had paid a week in advance and asked not to be disturbed by cleaners.
The hotel was on the run-down side of Montego Bay, not far from the place where Ross had been attacked, and Rachel was glad of Liam’s presence – and even more reassured by the thought of Yohan within screaming distance. She couldn’t quite believe they were here. Dinner on the terrace of the Round Hill had seemed infinitely preferable to venturing out again, but Liam’s arrival had galvanised her, spurred her on. Besides, it had been impossible to relax when she felt so deeply unsettled by Ross’s attack. How could they sit and have a relaxing swordfish supper when Ross was in a coma, and they were no nearer to finding out why Julian had died?
In stark contrast to Rachel’s suite, Ross’s room was cramped and dingy, with cigarette burns on the furniture and a grille over the window, but it wasn’t as bad as the lobby’s sticky carpets had suggested. Ross had certainly kept it neat and tidy – his army training, Rachel assumed – with his shirts neatly folded in drawers and his shoes at right angles to the bed.
Rachel crossed to the desk. Pens laid neatly on the top, a can of Coke, and a newspaper, also folded. No sign of his notebook – presumably he’d had it on him when he was mugged that night. There was also a small room safe, not big enough for anything larger than a Kindle or a wallet. Rachel gazed hopelessly around the room.
‘There’s nothing. No laptop. No notebooks. Nothing,’ she said with frustration.
‘Maybe he had it all on him when he was mugged,’ suggested Liam, handing her a can of cola.
‘Maybe. Diana called from New York. Left me a message. She’d just met with Simon Michaels, CEO of Denver Chemicals, who said that Julian wanted to sell the division.’
‘Had he found a buyer?’
‘I don’t know. You worked in a fancy law firm. What’s the going rate for a pharmaceuticals company these days?’
Liam scratched his head. ‘It depends how big it is. I’ve hardly been keeping up to speed, but I do know there’s been some pretty major acquisitions in the last few years. A small boutique firm could sell for a billion dollars or more depending on whether it had anything interesting in the R and D pipeline. One of the bigger players? Their valuation could be over fifty, sixty billion.’
‘It’s a lot of money. And of course a company is worth a whole lot more if it’s got a potential blockbuster diet drug on its hands.’
‘But it’s not just about selling off the division,’ said Liam.
‘What do you mean?’ frowned Rachel.
‘Denver Chemicals is only one part of the company. I’m not that familiar with the corporate structure of the Denver Group, but it’s a publicly traded company. A high-profile failure in one of the divisions can make the City lose confidence in a company in a second.’ He clicked his fingers. ‘It only takes a little wobble to send share prices spiralling downward.’
‘So none of the Denver Group shareholders are going to be happy to see Rheladrex fail?’
‘Absolutely.’
Her train of thought was disrupted by the hotel owner, who was scratching his stomach and rattling a bunch of keys.
‘You finished up here?’
Rachel nodded and took one last look at the scene, then went outside to the car, where Yohan was waiting for them.
‘Yohan, the Sydon Medical Clinic.’
‘Yeah, man. I know it. But it closed down now.’
