Page 315 of Lars

“Steel-plated, rubber-covered soles,” she explained as she slipped them over her feet.

“Spy slippers,” I said, amused.

“Of course. Can’t run in heels.”

While she did that, I pulled off my suit jacket and draped it over my arm to hide my Glock. Rachel hid her pistol behind her purse and stiletto shoes, which she carried in her left hand.

Then we exited the stairwell and walked quickly down the second-floor hallway.

There was an exterior fire escape on the side of the building, so we climbed out the window and used the steel ladder to reach the street-level alley.

“Which way should we go?” I asked.

“That way’s Hyde Park,” she said, pointing to our right. “I figure that’s where the shooter was when he fired at you. I say we don’t give him a second chance, just in case he’s hanging around.”

“Agreed.”

We exited the alley onto Knightsbridge, where the entire street was filled with police cars and frantic hotel guests. We quickly walked in the other direction.

Knightsbridge was a heavily trafficked road full of multi-story buildings. If the assassin had gone to high ground since his shot through the restaurant window, we would be sitting ducks – so we grabbed the first taxi that drove by. Not only would it be faster, but it would at least give us some protection.

The driver dropped us off at the Gore Hotel, less than two miles away.

Rachel and I hurried inside, then ran up the steps to my third-floor room.

Once inside, I pulled the nearest dresser over in front of the door and barricaded it. Then I pulled the curtains over the window so no one could see inside.

“I can’t believe we did something so stupid back there,” I said, shaking my head.

Rachel smirked. “It was worth it.”

And then she looped her arms around my neck and kissed me deeply.

This time, we took it slower. Our physical need for each other wasn’t as frenetic as it was during our tryst in the stairwell, and we savored the moment instead of rushing through it.

I drank in the sight of her body as she slid the straps off her shoulders and let her dress fall to the floor. I touched every inch of her – the curve of her hips, the slope of her back – as she slowly undressed me, and we kissed every time a new article of clothing came off.

Finally we stood there naked, skin to skin, our hands exploring each other’s bodies.

“Kneel on the bed,” she whispered.

I did as she asked, my knees bent and my legs folded underneath me.

She got on the mattress and straddled me, one leg on either side of me, and reached down to take hold of my cock.

Then – with her eyes locked on mine – she guided my head to her pussy and slowly took me inside her.

“Ohhhh,” she groaned, then bit her lip as she eased all the way down on me.

She caressed my hair and gazed into my eyes as she undulated her hips, working my cock inside her. We kissed often, but we paused just as often to stare into each other’s eyes – something we’d been denied for years and which was almost as pleasurable as the sex itself.

She had her first orgasm about ten minutes after we started. As it began to build to the point of no return, she moved her hips hard and fast, grinding against me – and then she cried out and flung her head backwards, her spine arched, as she came. I fondled her breasts and enjoyed the sight of her shaking from head to toe.

Once she recovered, she sat back up – my cock still inside her and her thighs still straddling my body – and smiled shyly as she looped her arms around my neck.

Her diamond ring was dangling on its necklace against my chest. She took the ring between her fingers and looked at it.

“You really bought this four years ago?” she whispered.

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