Secretly Craving You Read online

  No one could hurt her if he was holding her, could they? His shoulder was hard and comforting against her cheek and his male scent, fused with light cologne, scrumptious.

  The solid muscles of Nick's chest crushed and stimulated her breasts. What would he feel like naked? He'd be hot, his skin burning against her beaded nipples.

  He glanced down at her, wiping her tears away and combing the hair back from her face with his fingers. God, he smelled so good she wanted to bite him. Instead, she brushed her lips along the bottom edge of his square jaw. His stubble scraped her sensitive lips, but she craved contact with him.

  Frowning, he blew out a harsh breath, then lowered his chin so his lips stroked over hers. They were smooth and warm. Her breath halted just before the graze of lips turned into a kiss, at first an innocent peck, but quickly shifting to hungry devouring.

  His tongue moves were positively sinful when he tortured and teased her, invading her mouth. Mmm, yes. He tasted of sexy masculinity and the red wine they'd shared earlier. She shouldn't have had two glasses…or was it three? Because now she had no will to halt the delectable kissing he was laying on her. Honestly, she had never been kissed with such erotic passion.

  Holding her face between his palms, he gave her one last firm kiss and backed away. "I have to stop, dammit." He turned away, but not before she saw the prominent swelling behind his fly. Wow. She forced herself not to pull him back to her.

  "I have to stay focused," he muttered. She wasn't sure whether he was talking to her or to himself.

  Me, too. Yes, how could she focus?

  Ignoring her arousal, she strode across the room and tried to think with some rationality about what the caller had said.

  "I didn't see any sort of phallic object among Jared's antiquities," she said. "If he had one, he must have bought it within the last year or two, which wouldn't surprise me. The only problem is I have no idea where he would put it." She knew she was talking too fast, but it was the only way to move beyond the kiss and not drag Nick to the couch and maul him.

  "Hell, even if he did own it, he may have already sold it months ago," Nick said, his pupils still dilated. Obviously, he was trying to ignore the attraction just as she was.

  "Exactly." She dropped silent, her mind going blank and fantasies of continuing that kiss invading. It didn't take much to set her mind on that pathway. Nick's dark gaze told her his mind was in the same place. Most any glance from Nick was heated, and had been from the moment she'd met him, his smoky-gray eyes lingering on her until he'd usually turned and walked away.

  But getting sexually involved with him would be about as intelligent as jumping off a cliff.

  Focus, Emily! Damn, her mind was mush around Nick.

  "I have to call Tia and tell her about the threat to our bridal shop," Emily said.

  "Good idea. And I'll call the police and see if they'll keep an eye on the place."

  * * * *

  An hour later, hot water sluiced down Emily's body from the massaging shower head, rinsing away the fragrant pomegranate shower gel suds. Anything to make her forget the tantalizing scent of Nick. But nothing could erase his sexy image from her mind. She visualized him showering and getting ready to go to bed in the guest room downstairs.

  The skin of her breasts, belly and thighs was extra sensitive from the arousal that had gripped her through dinner and after. Especially during that kiss.

  She hoped Nick had locked all the doors and windows as he'd mentioned he would after they'd made their calls. Since he was a police officer, he'd more than likely cover everything relating to the security of the place.

  She didn't want that psycho invading her home again. Did he know Nick was a cop, or was this lost on him since Nick was undercover and didn't look like a cop? He certainly didn't wear a badge and he'd kept his guns hidden.

  What if the murderer even now lurked in the back garden? The gate had a flimsy latch on it and he could easily break it. The trees and bushes that clustered in the walled garden would provide good cover to hide in. She'd have to investigate tomorrow and see if any of her flowers were trampled.

  A memory came back to her from a couple of months ago. As she'd been walking home from work, she'd seen Jared pull away from the curb outside her house and drive down the street in the opposite direction. At first, she'd thought he might have tried to go into her house. It would've done him no good because she'd had the locks changed.

  She hadn't bothered to ask him about it. But later, she noticed some of her flowers broken and fresh dirt and mulch on the brick walkway. Had Jared done that?

  Now, she quickly turned off the shower, got out and grabbed a thick towel. What if the two were connected—Jared's appearance at her house and the disturbed garden? At the time, she'd thought one of her neighbors' dogs had snuck in there. After all, the gate had been ajar. But Jared had always known how to open the gate from the outside without a key, with a lift and a shove.

  What if Jared had buried something in her garden? Shivers slid down her spine.

  After yanking on lounge pants, a T-shirt and her old walking shoes, she jogged down the stairs to find Nick. They needed to do some digging in the garden.

  She tapped her knuckles against the white painted oak door of the guest suite.

  No answer. Where was he? She rapped again, harder this time.

  Silence. Dear god, what if the killer had knocked him out while he was locking up for the night?

  "Nick?" she asked, anxiety pitching her voice high. She quietly turned the knob and inched the door open. The spraying sound of the shower relaxed her muscles a bit. That was why he couldn't hear her.

  A harsh groan reached her from the bathroom.

  "What the hell?" she whispered. Was Nick hurt? She tiptoed toward the noise. The bathroom door was ajar about six inches. Pushing it, she peered through to see if Nick was unconscious on the floor. For all she knew, he could've slipped in the shower and thwacked his head on the granite tile.

  No, he wasn't sprawled on the floor.

  She started to call his name again when she noticed movement in the shower. Steam obscured most of the upper portions of the glass, but the water had rinsed the bottom portion, allowing her a clear view through the transparent glass.

  Nick grasped his sizeable and very erect cock within his hand, slowly stroking.

  Whoa. She stood transfixed, heat rushing over her. She had never seen anything so erotic. Correction, yes, she had, but the other time had involved Nick, too.

  What was she, a voyeur? She should turn and run from the room.

  But she couldn't move.

  She was paralyzed with fascination over the decadent image of Nick stroking his long cock. His wet, soapy hand slid over it easily with firm movements, at first slow and then faster. Sexy male moans and curses emanated from the glassed-in shower. Would he sound the same if he were between her legs, driving deep into her? She ached, craving the thick length of him spreading her.

  When he'd stimulated her to orgasm that morning, she'd found his naughty talk and growled words highly arousing. When he'd urged her to come for him, how could she resist doing just that? Besides, she'd been on the verge right before he'd asked.

  She wondered if he would let her stroke his cock. What if he saw her standing there now? What would she do, flee or join him? Once he'd rinsed the soap from his body, maybe she would drop to her knees before him and lick him, draw that delectable cock into her mouth. What would he taste like?

  "Oh fuck. Yeah, Em," he growled.

  Her breath halted. Had he actually said her name? Or had she only imagined it?

  He muttered another curse and cum jetted from his cock, the white liquid spewing into the air and flowing over his knuckles. That scorching image and his words, combined with the thick steamy air made her lightheaded.

  Forcing herself to move, she silently backed away from the bathroom, leaving the door as it had been, and quietly jogged from the guest suite and up the steps on trembling legs. Her
nipples still tingled and her panties were drenched.

  She returned to her room, closed the door and slumped against it. Oh god, why had he said her name? Had he been fantasizing about her? He hadn't seen her, or he would've let her know and quick. How mortifying it would've been to get caught spying. He'd tease her and call her a voyeur.

  Nick fantasizing about her? The idea was shocking. Ridiculous. Maybe he'd said Mmm instead of Em. That was probably it. Her heart sank, leaving her hollow. Jared had thought her unsexy and uptight. Cold, even. Maybe she'd been with the wrong man, because she certainly hadn't felt cold watching Nick. She'd almost gone up in flames.

  Anyway, she now had a second erotic memory to add to her list of fantasizing material.

  The first involved something she'd seen right after her wedding—her new husband's scorching-hot brother getting his clothes ripped off by one of her own bridesmaids.

  Nick's shirt had gone first, and she'd seen he had pecs and abs to die for. Then Cassie yanked up his formal kilt. His fully erect cock leapt out at her. The woman had dropped to her knees before him, wrapped her fingers around his shaft and devoured the head in obvious erotic worship.

  Close your eyes, Emily!

  But she couldn't. He was the most scrumptious eye candy she'd ever seen. He gently buried his fingers in Cassie's hair and moaned. His expression was blissful. Emily forced herself to look away. Seconds later, a guttural curse came from Nick and she couldn't resist seeing what he was responding to. Cassie stroked his shaft up and down, then took him down her throat.

  With another curse, he yanked her up. "Take off your clothes." After removing his kilt, he ripped open a condom while urgently guiding her toward the sofa.

  Cassie was able to fling her dress away before Nick laid her back on the cushions. He quickly stripped her panties down her legs, and tossed them. Emily couldn't believe how aggressive yet gentle he was as he spread her legs and knelt between, his cock sheathed in a condom.

  From her vantage point in the closet, Emily watched his cock slid in, first shallowly, then slowly deeper. Cassie gasped, then cried out while arching her back. Clearly, she wanted more. Who wouldn't? Though guilt swamped Emily, she wished in that moment she could switch places with Cassie. Nick was the hottest man she'd ever met.

  Emily had dealt with the guilt since she'd first seen Nick and realized how unbelievably attractive she found him. Apparently, most women felt that way about him, so she wrote it off as some instinctive, biological power he held over females. She'd tried to ignore it and focus on making her marriage to Jared happy. She had loved him, or at least she thought she had.

  What did she know about love anyway? He'd cheated on her with another woman. End of story.

  Emily had struggled with whether she'd mentally cheated on Jared by fantasizing about Nick and thinking about him when she was down or annoyed with Jared. Nick was undoubtedly an even bigger womanizer than Jared had been. He knew his own appeal. He knew women lusted over him, and he likely took advantage of that.

  To be attracted to Nick was normal, because all women were. But to think it would lead to anything more was insanity. He wouldn't know the meaning of emotion or commitment.

  But why had he been masturbating in the shower moments ago? Surely she didn't turn him on that much. Or maybe she did…a little. She hoped. It was quite an ego boost to be able to arouse a sexy man like him. Had he done the same thing that morning when he'd given her an orgasm, then gone to take a shower? He'd come out much calmer than when he'd gone in. She would bet anything he had. He was a highly sexual man. But why would he need another release now? The kiss?

  Either way, she had to go downstairs and face him. How could she talk to him without blushing furiously…or melting with arousal?

  She splashed cold water on her face and dried it, then headed back down to the first floor. She forced her expression to remain neutral and business-like as she knocked on his door.

  A few seconds later, he opened it and eyed her as if trying to guess what she wanted before she had a chance to tell him. He wore a pair of faded jeans and nothing else. The defined muscles of his chest and abs, and the way the soft denim cupped his sex almost distracted her.

  "Yes?" he asked in a low voice. Or maybe it wasn't a question at all. Maybe he was saying yes to her unspoken need.

  Glancing away, she cleared her throat. "I remembered something."

  "What's that?"

  "It might be nothing. Follow me." She strode toward the kitchen.

  "Where? I don't have my boots on."

  "So, put them on." Folding her arms across her chest, she waited.

  "This better be good," he grumbled. Hmm, maybe he was still a bit sexually frustrated. She could hope.

  A minute later, he exited the room wearing black motorcycle boots and followed her to the mud room near the back door. She took a garden spade from a closet along with her gloves.

  "It's midnight, Emily. You're going to work in the garden?"

  "No. Come on and hold the flashlight." She flicked on the exterior lights.

  He pressed a hand high against the door, preventing her from opening it. "First, tell me why." It was slightly less than a demand.

  "There might be something buried in my garden. Something valuable someone is willing to kill for."

  "And you think this because…?"

  She blew out an impatient breath. "A few months ago, I was walking home from work and I saw Jared's car pulling away from my house. He no longer had access, because I'd had the locks changed. He'd been parked near the garden gate. The next day, I noticed in the garden where I thought a dog or some other animal had dug in the dirt. I didn't connect the two until ten minutes ago. I mean, why would I suspect Jared of burying something in my garden? But now that some phallic object is missing, it makes me suspicious."

  "Okay." Nick turned on the black flashlight. "I'm going out first." He pulled a large stainless steel pistol from the back waist of his jeans.

  A renewed surge of icy fear rushed over her.

  "Stay back until I tell you it's safe," he said.

  She swallowed hard and nodded. What if she caused Nick to step out into the sights of some deranged killer? "Be careful." She briefly touched his warm, bronzed skin and the Celtic symbols tattooed on his upper arm.

  He sent an intense glance back at her. "Right. Stay down." He slipped out the door, crouching low. Maybe this was a terrible idea.

  He directed the flashlight and gun around the walled courtyard garden, then checked behind two yew shrubs.

  "All clear." He motioned her out with his head. She found his tough guy, cop actions pretty hot.

  Carrying the spade, she moved toward a corner flowerbed. "I think it was right here. Damn, I'll have to dig up my begonias."

  She placed the spade point into the ground and, with her foot, shoved it beneath a big plant and lifted it from the ground, then did a second one. Once these were out of the way, she started digging a hole.

  Nick removed the beam of light from where she was working and directed it around through the darkness, along the house, toward the street. A gate there allowed views into the garden.

  "Do you leave the gate unlocked?"

  She glanced at it, seeing that it was closed. "No, but there's an easy trick to opening it. Which, by the way, Jared knew about." She breathed hard from the exertion.

  Nick shined the light on her. "Do you want me to dig?" His voice sounded deep and intimate in this spooky gloom.

  "No, I don't mind. It shouldn't be too deep and the dirt is soft. Besides you have to watch for the nut-job." Exercise would probably be good for her, though she'd need another shower afterward. It was a muggy night. She doubted the temperature was much below eighty.

  The point of the spade thumped against something hard. She would say it was a rock, but there was no clang. She placed the tool under the object and pried it out.

  "What is this?" she whispered, bending to pick it up. Something wrapped in a small towel. She unrol
led the object within. An oblong stone in a plastic bag fell into her palm. "Bingo."

  Chapter Eight

  "That's it," Nick said, eying the phallic shaped object in Emily's hand. "Come on. Bring it inside." He glanced around, making sure the killer wasn't lurking somewhere, beyond the reach of the lights. He pushed her toward the back door and inside. Her safety was his primary concern.

  Emily's hands were covered in black soil as was the gallon sized plastic bag containing the object. She turned on the tap in the laundry sink and washed off the dirt. "It appears to be a marble…penis. Just as that psycho said."

  "Don't remove it from the bag. It could have fingerprints on it," Nick said.

  She nodded and held it closer to the counter light. "Why would Jared bury it there? Surely a bank vault would be a safer place for this." She stroked a thumb over it, up along the shaft and over the head. She gasped.

  "What?" Nick asked.

  "Nothing. It just appears so detailed."

  Nick grunted, glad the impending groan didn't emerge. She looked so hot touching that marble penis. And he was insane for thinking such a thing was hot.

  "How old do you think it is?" she asked.

  He shrugged.

  "Let's go do some research in my room." She bolted out of the laundry room and toward the stairway.

  "Research?" What kind of research could they do in her bedroom? His mind went crazy with the possibilities. After checking to be sure the backdoor was locked, he followed her upstairs and found her sitting on the bed, typing on her laptop.

  He slid onto the high bed beside her, trying to ignore the fact this was her bed, where she slept every night. Did she ever sleep naked? A rush of arousal surged through him.

  Dammit, he'd only had an orgasm about fifteen minutes ago in the shower. What was with his powered-up libido? He couldn't help it. This bed easily brought back memories of what he'd done to her that morning—stroking her until she'd cried out in pleasure. He almost moaned, but cleared his throat instead.

  Emily pointed to the laptop screen. "Here's a picture of a similar marble phallus. It says it was used in ancient fertility rituals. The penis was an important symbol to ancient cultures."