The Beijing conspiracy

CHAPTER 63

C urtis guided Kate into the lift. The dinner, the wine and Curtis’ ability to make her laugh had weakened Kate’s resolve.

‘We should have a nightcap,’ Curtis whispered.

‘And just what might your definition of a nightcap be, Curtis O’Connor?’ Kate challenged. Curtis’ face was close to hers. She could see that his eyes were a smoky blue.

‘Champagne or whiskey,’ Curtis replied in the Irish brogue she found so attractive.

Kate Braithwaite, this man is trouble. Remember the rule. Don’t get involved with someone you work with, Kate reminded herself.

‘I think whiskey,’ she said softly, deciding to rebel against ‘the rule’, parting her lips as he kissed her very slowly and very softly.

Kate wandered out on to Curtis’ balcony while he cracked ice into two crystal glasses. The ferries had stopped running for the night and Sydney Harbour was quiet but beautifully powerful and captivating. Kate took a long, relaxing breath, taking in the smell of the sea breeze that was coming through the Heads and ruffling the waters below in swirling ‘cats’ paws’. To the south, dark clouds were gathering, signalling a storm was on the way.

Kate glanced back into the hotel room. Curtis had finished pouring the drinks. His tanned face was relaxed and his dark hair slightly tousled as he put a CD into the machine. The soft tones of Madeleine Peyroux drifted out to the balcony. If she was honest with herself, Kate thought, she’d been attracted to him from the day he’d met her in the foyer of the CIA Headquarters, and it wasn’t just his lean, fit body and mischievous blue eyes that drew her in. The physical attraction had only deepened as she’d discovered his agile mind. Kate smiled inwardly at how well he’d handled her angry lecture on DNA and she decided she was entitled to a fling.

She glanced to her left, up towards the massive bridge that towered over the hotel. A lone fishing vessel, the Destiny, was passing slowly underneath the bridge as it headed towards the outer harbour. Opposite Curtis’ balcony, the huge white sails of the Sydney Opera House reached majestically toward the night sky. Kate soaked up the city harbour she loved.

‘Twelve-year-old Jameson’s. The proper Irish stuff,’ Curtis said, handing Kate a glass and standing closely beside her on the balcony.

‘Prost,’ Curtis whispered, softly clinking his tumbler with hers.

‘Prost. Mmm. That is so good. Like malted honey.’ Kate could feel the old whiskey warming her, dissolving any last minute misgivings.

Curtis’ hand moved lower and she felt a surge of warmth between her legs as she let him slowly explore her thigh. He put his glass down and when he reached for hers, she relinquished it willingly, and pressed herself against his body. He kissed her gently, his lips soft, warm and tasting of whiskey, then he kissed her more urgently and she responded with her tongue as he held her tight. Kate parted her legs to allow his thigh between hers.

Kate groaned as he slowly undid the zip on her white linen pants and she moved against his finger as he gently explored her. She reached for his zip but it caught; unhurriedly, he helped her pull it down. He was growing in her hand and she groaned again as he kissed her.

‘I think we should do this,’ Curtis whispered.

‘I think we should too.’

Kate leaned her head against his shoulder as they walked towards the bedroom. He stepped back and slowly unbuttoned her shirt.

The small voice was back, annoying and persistent. ‘This man has too much finesse. He’s bad news. You’re just another conquest.’ Kate banished the voice by concentrating on undoing Curtis’ leather belt. He released the clip on her bra.

Kate closed her eyes and groaned again as she felt Curtis run his hand very slowly down her back and over the outside of her thigh.

Curtis kissed Kate’s breasts and slowly licked and sucked her hard, erect nipples. He searched Kate’s tongue with his own and as she reached for him, she found that he was hard and wet.

Curtis moved his hand slowly between her thighs and caressed her, gently at first, and then more powerfully.

‘Fuck me, Curtis,’ Kate whispered, guiding him into her.

As their tongues found each other, Kate could feel herself rising on a huge wave.

‘Oh fuck me, Curtis! Fuck me!’ she urged softly, her voice catching in her throat as the wave took her still higher.

She wrapped her arms more tightly around his broad shoulders and pushed against him in perfect harmony with the increasing power of Curtis’ lean, muscled body, the wave taking her higher and higher.

‘Oh fuck,’ she whispered urgently. ‘Oh fuck! I’m going to come! Oh fuuu… ck!’ Kate’s lightly tanned and freckled face was contorted in exquisite pain as Curtis too, let out a muffled cry and she felt him convulsing inside her.

Kate basked as she slowly surfed the wave into the beach. Curtis held her for a very long time, kissing her softly, and gently stroking her back.