Secretly Craving You Read online

  Carrying an overnight bag, she rushed out to her car and took off. What would Nick say when she showed up? She needed his help, but she couldn't deny she was excited about the prospect of seeing him again.

  After driving around Savannah for fifteen minutes to make sure no one was following her, she headed toward Atlanta.

  * * * *

  "Give it up, Rathburn. You've got no chance with her," Kurt muttered loudly over the pounding rock music and turned up his beer bottle to drain it. Kurt, the lead singer in the rock band Nick was using for a cover, was a fairly decent guy, but Rathburn, the guitar player, was nothing but a criminal.

  Nick glanced across Rebel's crowded dance floor to see who Rathburn was harassing now. People moved in and out of his line of vision. He squinted through the dimness at the female in question.

  Emily?

  "What the hell?" Nick stood, almost flipping over his chair.

  "What is it, man?"

  I don't believe this. He strode toward Rathburn and the woman he had cornered. A blonde who looked a hell of a lot like Emily, but with heavier makeup and a slinky, low cut, very short sparkly black dress. His eyes had to be playing tricks on him.

  But the closer he got, the more his stomach knotted. How had she found him? And what was she doing here, dressed like that? Was she living a double life?

  "Em?" He stopped beside Rathburn who resembled the grim reaper with his long black hair and black clothing.

  Emily's face lit up. "I was looking for you!"

  The other man sent him an evil-eyed glare. "Back off, Worth. I saw her first."

  "You heard her. She's looking for me." Nick took her hand and tugged her away from Rathburn and toward the bar.

  Rathburn would hold a grudge over this one, but it couldn't be helped. Nick had never been able to get along with the bastard anyway.

  "I need to talk to you in private," Emily said.

  "Let me buy you a drink, sweet cheeks."

  She frowned. "I don't want a drink. I want—"

  "Wait a sec, okay?" he said close to her ear in a more serious tone. Dammit, didn't she realize she'd walked into a snake den? And now he had to protect her and try to figure out how to get her out of here ASAP while maintaining his cover persona. Rushing her out like he wanted would come across as suspicious behavior for him.

  "How about a margarita?" he asked.

  She nodded. Why did she always have to appear so sweet and innocent, even with that heavy makeup? Maybe because he was used to hanging around women who were far more jaded.

  He gave the bartender their order, scanned his surroundings, then faced her again. No one stood close enough to hear what they said if they kept their voices down. Besides, the loud music covered most other sounds.

  He lifted Emily to a barstool. Her eyes widened. He leaned in close and spoke into her ear so no one would read his lips. "Don't look so shocked. What are you doing here and how the hell did you find me?"

  He moved his head so she could talk into his ear.

  "You mentioned Rebel's when you spoke to someone on your phone in my living room. I looked it up and found this place."

  "Damn." She'd heard him? He'd been careless.

  "Some maniac broke into my house and searched it tonight, but nothing was missing."

  He muttered a curse, rage and concern for her safety burning through him. "Why didn't you call me?"

  "I tried, but you wouldn't answer and your voicemail box is full. Why don't you ever clean it out?"

  He felt like kicking himself. "I'm sorry." When he was undercover, it was dangerous to take calls and he'd had no time today to check his voicemail. "What happened? I want details."

  "After the police left, this creepy guy called and asked, 'Where is it?' He told me the name of the thing he wants, but it was a foreign language. I couldn't understand the words. He said if I didn't give it to him, I'd regret it. But I have no idea what he's talking about."

  "I knew it." So Jared's murderer was coming out of hiding, finally. Just the break he was waiting for. He only wished she'd caught the name of the object the bastard was looking for.

  Most of all, it pissed him off that the psycho had threatened Emily.

  After retrieving their drinks from the bartender and paying, he took a sip of beer and gave their surroundings a quick perusal. No one appeared inordinately interested in them, but the place had hidden cameras. The drug dealer he was investigating owned the bar and no doubt watched everyone via the cameras, especially people like Nick who was trying to get deeper into his organization.

  "Don't drink too much of that unless you can hold your liquor," he told her.

  "I won't." That had to mean she couldn't. She might get drunk from two sips for all he knew. And that would put them in a worse mess.

  He pulled her close and pretended to talk dirty in her ear. "It's dangerous as hell for you to be here. I need for you to pretend to be my date. Follow my lead." When she nodded, he continued. "My name is Nick Worth. Yours is Emily Green. We went out one time before, last week. I'm the drummer in this band called Moonstone."

  He had to get her out of here, but the band hadn't yet played their set and he never left with women this early in the night. He didn't want to deviate much from his normal MO.

  "We're supposed to go on and play in a few minutes. All you have to do is act like a groupie."

  "What's a groupie—oh, you mean one of those sex-addicted girls who can't wait to screw the whole band."

  A shot of arousal ricocheted through him and his cock hardened like granite. "Don't say things like that," he growled. Damn, he couldn't take being around her, especially in those clothes. "And, by the way, could you have dressed any skimpier?"

  The top of the dress had two strips of fabric that barely covered her breasts. Her cleavage was lickable, the sides of her perky breasts showing. Her hard nipples protruded beneath the thin fabric. The hem of the dress barely covered a few inches of her delectable thighs. He wanted to carry her to the back room and fuck her against the wall.

  "I didn't want to…draw suspicion." She sipped at the margarita and licked the salt from her lips. His gut clenched and his balls tightened. Damn, he wanted to lick her from her red pouting lips to her ankles and back again.

  "Believe me, you won't." But she'd draw every straight man's attention in this place, and he might have to fight them off. He knew how to solve that problem. "Let's dance." He set her drink on the bar and lifted her off the stool. She'd had enough alcohol anyway. More than half a margarita and she'd probably start staggering.

  He had to show every man here she was with him so there'd be no question. No bozos hitting on her while he was on stage with the band. If he left with her now, the band couldn't play, which would jeopardize the cover he'd cultivated for months. They all knew he enjoyed a variety of women, but he'd never bailed on his band mates to leave with one. Not only would the guys think he was acting odd, so would the nightclub owner who'd hired them to play.

  Hell, he wished she hadn't come here tonight, but he knew she'd had no other choice.

  * * * *

  "I don't want to dance," Emily grumbled, glaring at Nick's broad shoulders as he practically dragged her onto the crowded dance floor. Did he have to be so sarcastic and bossy? She stumbled, but caught against his back. Probably shouldn't have drunk so much of the mixed drink since she'd skipped dinner. But she was thirsty and she loved margaritas.

  To the rhythm of the slow, rough-edged love song, Nick pulled her close into a languid dance, sliding her arms up around his neck and then framing her waist with his strong hands. Breathing hot against her temple, he dropped his hands an inch or two and caressed just below the small of her back. An electrical tingle skittered through her and she almost gasped.

  The alcohol heated her veins, making her dizzy. His strong body sliding against hers sparked excitement and arousal.

  Nick had touched her more in the last three minutes than any man had for the past two years. She hadn't realized
how starved for physical contact she was.

  His silky hair brushed the backs of her hands at his neck. Through the open front of his black leather vest, her breasts, barely covered in a sequined fabric, brushed his bare chest, hypnotizing her.

  "You're doing great," he murmured against her ear, only loud enough for her to hear over the blaring music. His breath scorched her skin. "You're right. You dressed perfectly for this role. You look hot as hell."

  His words sent a blast of lust and exhilaration through her. He truly thought she looked hot? What could she say to that? "Thank you." How lame.

  He grinned, making her feel far more naïve than she was.

  "I knew you'd think so," she added.

  Turning more serious, he lifted a brow.

  There, she'd put him in his place.

  "You hoped I'd think so," he breathed into her ear. She shivered. Her nipples tingled and ached. Flirting with Nick was a wicked indulgence.

  "I know what turns men on," she said, taking their play a risky step further. Could she turn him on?

  He narrowed his eyes, then spoke into her ear again. "Well then, you also know what tells other men you're mine and off limits."

  His possessive words snatched her breath. She loved the way he'd said you're mine. "What are you talking about?"

  "I don't want other men hitting on you while I'm on stage and unable to protect you. We have to establish that you're with me right now."

  "How?"

  "I'm going to kiss you," he said, glancing away.

  "What?" Her heart skidded to a halt and tingles showered her body.

  "Trust me," he said in a neutral tone. "Try to make it convincing and don't slap me."

  "Why would a kiss be necessary?" She was far too attracted to Nick to kiss him without him realizing the extent of it. She might simply eat him up. She'd only been roped into one blind date since her divorce and the goodnight peck from that creep was forgettable, like pressing her mouth against parchment.

  If she kissed Nick, she'd get turned on and he'd know it.

  "I don't think we should," she said in a rush.

  "Emily, if we were lovers, like we're pretending to be, we'd be all over each other," he murmured in her ear, his voice deep and seductive. "We wouldn't be able to wait to find a bed or a dark corner, and everyone would know it. They'd see how hot we were for each other."

  Yes, everyone here might see how hot she was for him. A wave of arousal flooded Emily. Dear god, she could scarcely breathe. She was supposed to be pretending, but this felt far too real.

  Placing a finger beneath her chin, he turned her face toward him, but she lowered her gaze to his neck. "Are you listening to me?" he asked.

  She swallowed and tried to act normal. "Yes, but we're not…lovers." But I want to be. No! No, she didn't. He was her former brother-in-law. A Sullivan. The same blood as Jared's ran through his veins. Both cocky, arrogant bastards. Womanizers who couldn't keep it in their pants.

  But when she thought of Nick's jeans and what was in them, she ached deep inside.

  "But we don't want anyone else to know that. Am I really that repulsive?" A hint of insecurity lurked in his smoky-gray eyes. Maybe her acting skills weren't that terrible if he couldn't detect her attraction for him.

  "It's not that and you know it." He was like one of those sinfully delicious, high-calorie desserts that women crave but swear off. "No tongues." If she didn't taste him, maybe she could hide her intense hunger for him.

  He shrugged. "Whatever."

  "Well then, get it over with." She forced the words out before she had time to think about them.

  A slow, wicked smile formed on his lips.

  Uh-oh.

  Emily should've closed her eyes against his sexy, playful expression. But that smile took away his usual brusqueness and replaced it with the promise of pleasure.

  He stroked warm fingertips along her jaw line, all the while leading her in a barely-noticeable slow dance. He moved his face closer and panic closed around her throat. Oh no.

  Chapter Four

  Oh yes!

  As Emily sank against Nick's hard body on the dance floor, his firm, sensual lips captured hers. His kiss was a hot, drugging caress, like drowning in a pool of rich, melting chocolate. Ambrosia to her starved senses. Emily wanted to sink down into his seduction until she was sated.

  She held him tighter, digging her nails into his leather vest, pressing her pebbled nipples against his muscled chest. His hard cock ground against her lower belly where she ached for him deep inside, and moisture drenched her panties.

  Threading his fingers underneath her hair to cradle her head, he gave lingering kisses to the corners of her mouth. Burning desire flashed through her. Oh how she wanted to devour every inch of him.

  Her knees trembled and she reached up for more kisses. When he flicked the tip of his tongue against the center of her lips, her breath stopped and she opened her mouth.

  Nick inhaled sharply and squeezed her ass, pulling her tighter against his erection. She couldn't even protest the way he was touching her because she craved more.

  His tongue swept against hers. The masculine taste and texture of him assailed her senses. Delicious and intimate. His clean musky scent was new and unfamiliar. Sexy. A silken thread of sensuality wrapped around her heart and for a moment wouldn't let it beat.

  She moaned, but the loud music muffled it. She hoped. What if he'd heard it? The sheer force of her unbridled need stunned her, frightened her. She was tempted to climb his lean, muscular frame right here on the dance floor.

  Shocked at herself, she broke the kiss and turned aside.

  He pressed his face into her hair. "Good god, Emily," he growled.

  Nick was ready to throw Emily over his shoulder and make for the nearest dark corner. He hadn't had such a rampant hard-on in eons. That moan she'd let loose told him she was just as aroused. Stroking the soft skin of her bare thigh, he ached to slide his hand up underneath that short skirt and find out how wet she was, then yank her panties aside. She would feel sublime—hot, tight, drenched.

  "Damn," he muttered. How was he supposed to get himself under control?

  Her hands trembled as she clutched at his vest. Even her legs felt unsteady to him. Nudging her chin up, he couldn't believe how aroused she appeared, her eyes midnight blue, her lips swollen and parted, waiting for him to kiss her again. He wanted nothing more than to do exactly that, flicking his tongue into her mouth, and then lift her into his arms and wrap her legs around his waist.

  But he couldn't. Still holding her in place, he closed his eyes and turned his face away. Inhaling deeply, he tried to get his libido under control. Damn. When had he ever wanted a woman this badly?

  Never.

  Her sweet taste lingered in his mouth. Her perfume and her own unique scent teased his senses. And he'd swear he even smelled her arousal. He wanted to drop to his knees and slide his tongue into her. His cock jumped.

  A second later, his phone vibrated in his pocket, startling him. A text message. No one sent him texts except his partner. Taking out his phone, he quickly read the message from Pierce—Get her out of there!

  What the hell? Trying to maintain his calm façade, he scanned the surroundings, arousal draining from his body, leaving him cold. Apparently he had a ghost tonight—another police officer posing as a regular customer and backing him up. And clearly he knew something Nick didn't.

  "Dammit," he muttered under his breath.

  "What is it?" Emily asked.

  "What do you say we get out of here and have some fun?" He hoped the line, if anyone heard it, was enough to cover his tracks. Suspicious behavior or not, they had to leave now.

  Taking her hand, Nick calmly moved past the huge bouncer at the door. Kurt called out something behind them, but Nick didn't have time to make up an excuse for leaving the band in the lurch. With Emily, he strode out into the humid heat of the Atlanta night.

  "Whew. I'm glad to be out of there," she said.r />
  The quietness of the dim street hurt his ears in the absence of the loud music. He scanned the area for danger. "Did you bring your car here?" he asked low, not seeing her white luxury sedan nearby.

  "No, I left it at the hotel and came to the bar in a taxi."

  He slid his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close to whisper in her ear. "Which hotel?"

  She told him the name and the street. "What's going on? You glanced at your phone."

  Although he didn't notice anything out of the ordinary, he kept his voice low. "I'll tell you about it later." He guided Emily toward his motorcycle in the parking area and removed the helmets he'd locked in place earlier. "Know how to put this on?" he asked, handing her one.

  "Um." Frowning, she eyed the helmet as if it were a puzzle to be worked out. "Can't we call a taxi?"

  "We have great transportation right here. And, no, we don't have time to wait for a taxi." He tugged the helmet over her head and secured the chin strap, then put his on. "Throw your leg across. We have to hurry." He held the bike steady.

  "Why?"

  "I'll tell you later."

  She did as he said, looking hot straddling his motorcycle seat. But he had more important things to focus on now than how damned sexy she was and how he wanted to be the thing she was straddling. Hell, her crotch was now almost exposed. She tried to yank her short dress down, but that would do no good. Trying to ignore her lusciousness, he got on in front of her.

  She didn't have to tell him she'd never ridden a motorcycle before. It was obvious.

  * * * *

  Jumping up, Nick cranked the bike with the kick-starter, causing it to rumble and vibrate. Exhaust fumes wafted up Emily's nose and into her lungs. She lapsed into a coughing, gasping fit.

  Oh god, what had she gotten herself into?

  He dropped onto the seat between her knees, reached back for her hands and drew them around his waist. "You okay?" he asked over the roar of the engine.

  No, I'm not okay, she wanted to yell, but nodded and gulped fresh air, finally recovering.