Secretly Craving You Read online

  "Hmph." Every time she said penis or phallus, his own grew harder despite the dangerous situation. He leaned back, trying to alleviate some of the pressure in his jeans.

  "There are huge phalluses all over Great Britain."

  He snorted. No wonder he couldn't concentrate on the important things. He'd blame it on her. "I'm sure British men would be flattered to hear you say that."

  "I mean huge stone phalluses. Like statues, standing stones and gate posts."

  "Ah. I'm glad you clarified."

  She tried to hide her grin, but damn, she looked almost as aroused as he felt, her pupils dilated and her lashes lowered.

  She quickly switched her gaze back to the laptop screen. "Some were put in place by the Romans when they occupied Britain. But others predate the Roman occupation." She clicked to another page. "Here's one that's five feet tall. And some are even bigger."

  "Sounds like ancient people were obsessed with cocks."

  She laughed, her blush heightening. "That's one way to put it."

  Some part of him wished she was obsessed with his cock, giving it the attention it craved, kissing it, sucking it. Mmm. He'd certainly love to return the favor…roll her back on the bed, yank those pants off, and devour her right now.

  But dammit, despite how he'd touched her that morning in Atlanta, he couldn't move past seeing Emily as untouchable and off limits. Even if Jared hadn't treated her right and hadn't loved her, Nick couldn't step across that line any further.

  He shoved himself off the bed and paced to the opposite side of the room, trying to dispel the strong lust that permeated his brain and body. He couldn't act on his urges no matter how he yearned for her.

  "Nick?"

  "What?" Had she been talking to him? Damn, he was totally losing his focus.

  "You okay?" Her pupils were still dilated and her voice huskier than normal.

  He turned away, staring at the blinds covering the windows, anything but her. "Yeah, fine. Just restless. I wanna catch this bastard."

  "As I was saying, I have a friend who works at a museum here in town. Maybe we could show her this tomorrow and see if she thinks it's valuable."

  "Sure. Do you have somewhere to lock it up for tonight? I don't want to risk the perp getting his hands on it. This could be evidence in Jared's murder case."

  "Yes. There's a safe in this room, actually." After setting her laptop aside, she crossed the floor and removed a small painting from the wall to reveal the safe. When he'd searched her house, he'd somehow missed it.

  "What's the combination, in case I need it?" he asked.

  Eying him, she lifted a brow.

  He loved that sassy expression and the way she challenged him. She was sexy as hell. "I thought you trusted me," he said smoothly.

  "I do." She shrugged, then told him the numbers as she dialed them in. Her trust in him was like a shot of aphrodisiac to his system. He forced himself to remove his gaze from her succulent ass in those snug lounge pants and repeated the number sequence in his head.

  The phallic object stored inside the safe, she placed the painting back in its place, concealing the small door.

  "I'm all covered in dirt and sweat now," she said. "I'll have to take another shower."

  Can I help? He visualized her naked body in the shower. Remembering the exact shade of her dusky pink nipples, he imagined water streaming over them. He craved sucking the hard little nubs into his mouth.

  "Nick? Are you okay?"

  "Yeah. Goodnight." He headed for the door and the stairway, hoping he wouldn't lose control and break down her bedroom door later.

  * * * *

  Closing her door and leaning back against it, Emily let out a calming breath. Though she didn't want Nick to know, she'd been nearly consumed with arousal for the past several minutes, since she'd held the marble phallus up to the light in the laundry room and examined it. Was it Nick's close proximity, or did the stone object hold some sort of aphrodisiac power?

  She opened the safe and pulled out the artifact within the plastic bag. While she held it in her hands, a slow heat spread over her. Memories of Nick kissing her and touching her flooded her mind.

  Quickly, she shoved the artifact back into the safe and locked it. Her arousal diminished somewhat, but all she could think about was how yummy Nick was. Nothing paranormal about that. Nick aroused her and she didn't need an aphrodisiac for that.

  She strode into the bathroom, turned on the shower and undressed. She had to wash off the sweat and dirt from the garden.

  Stepping under the warm spray, she wondered if Nick had felt more aroused around the ancient object. He hadn't held it in his hands the way she had, so he was probably less affected. Still, while he'd been in her room, his pupils had been dilated and he'd seemed highly aroused and restless. She'd seen the impressive bulge behind his fly. And though she'd tried to ignore it, she'd only grown hotter. She wondered if he was again taking care of his own needs in the shower downstairs.

  Maybe she could take care of her own needs, too. It wasn't something she did often, but she'd never been as turned on as she was around Nick. Her libido had been asleep for the past two years, and he'd awakened it like a fire alarm going off.

  Pretending her hands were Nick's, she trailed them over her water-drenched, soapy body. Wow, how she craved the touch of his big, strong hands, slightly rougher than hers. She still couldn't believe he'd stroked her to orgasm that morning. It seemed like one of her fantasies. He knew how to play her like a finely tuned instrument, drawing intense and beautiful pleasure from her so quickly.

  When her climax overcame her, she almost fell to the shower floor, but held onto the tile wall and managed to stay on her feet. The orgasm was good, but nowhere near as fantastic as the one Nick had given her.

  If a highly sexual man like Nick could maintain his self-control in the face of their intense attraction, so could she. She'd be nuts to get sexually involved with him, anyway. It wouldn't be just simple sex for her; it would be more like making love. And she was certain Nick wouldn't know what that meant. Unfortunately, he was not the type of guy who would stick around. Though she wished he was.

  * * * *

  The next morning, Nick followed Emily across the marble tiles of the museum's atrium, watching her cute ass twitch in that little skirt. He remembered it bare the day he'd caught her naked in her bedroom. Damn, did he love walking behind her. He'd like to sink his teeth into that sweet, heart-shaped ass. He wouldn't bite too hard.

  Focus, Sullivan!

  Lifting his gaze, he concentrated on the clunk of his boots echoing to the twenty-foot-high coffered ceiling and the lighter click of Emily's heels. Hopefully, they'd find out from Emily's friend if this stone phallus was worth anything. Then maybe they'd know why the perp wanted it so badly.

  They took a narrow hallway in the back to an office door. Emily knocked. A couple of moments later, a petite blond woman opened it and smiled.

  "Emily, I've been expecting you. Come in."

  They stepped into her tidy, walnut-paneled office which appeared to be something from the nineteenth century.

  Emily introduced Nick to Greta. She looked too fresh, young and voluptuous to be an assistant museum curator, but what did he know?

  After some small talk, Greta asked, "Did you bring the object you were asking me about? I can't wait to see it."

  "Yes." Emily opened her briefcase, removed the object from the linen napkin and placed it on a desk. "We'd like to keep it in the bag if possible. It may have fingerprints or other clues on it leading to the rightful owner."

  Greta nodded, eying the object closely. "Wow."

  Why were women so fascinated by the marble penis?

  "You found this in your garden?"

  "Yes," Emily said, obviously holding back the bit about who she suspected had buried it there. "How old do you think it is?"

  Greta turned on a light and sat down on a stool to inspect the object with a magnification device for several moments. "It'
s hard to examine it closely through the plastic, but based on the workmanship and style, I'd say it's at least two thousand years old. Maybe more. It looks like the ones that have been found in the British Isles."

  "I thought so. I researched it online last night. But I know nothing about archeology and wanted an expert's opinion. How much do you think it's worth?"

  "It's difficult to say. Sometimes these sorts of antiquities are put up for auction. So the demand for it determines the price."

  "Is there any reason buyers would want this besides as an art object to display?" Emily asked.

  Greta frowned. "What do you mean?"

  "Um…"

  "Could it have some kind of paranormal powers?" Nick asked when Emily was silent a moment too long. In his vision, he'd heard the killer mention Druids and magic.

  "It's doubtful. But I've never come across an object with paranormal powers, so who knows?"

  "What would it have been used for when it was made?" Emily asked.

  "Could've been used in fertility rituals or as a sexual aid. At least, this is what most experts in the field theorize. There's no way to know for certain."

  "A sexual aid?" Nick asked. "Are you saying this is a two-thousand-year-old dildo?"

  "Nick," Emily scolded, her face flushing red.

  Greta smiled, then nodded. "Possibly. Most historians are convinced Greek and Roman women used them. So why not other cultures?"

  "Yeah, why not?" Nick muttered.

  "It could be incredibly valuable," Greta said. "You'll probably want to keep it in a safe place."

  * * * *

  Late that night, amid flashes of lightning and rumbling thunder, Nick awoke from an erotic dream…he and Emily were in her bed, practically devouring each other. The taste of her sweet mouth, along with her eager response drove him crazy. He rolled between her thighs and…

  He sat bolt upright, alone in his own bed. Dammit, was he reading her mind? Was she fantasizing about him right now? He'd had a dream like this about her before, right after he'd met her the first time, but he'd written it off as his own lust and imagination taking over. But what if that wasn't all there was to it? What if she'd been fantasizing about him then, too?

  Cursing, Nick shoved himself from the bed and paced, lightning flares piercing the darkness now and then.

  He didn't need to see his cock to know it was fully erect and eager for some action. Being around Emily all day had almost driven his crazy. She was so damned beautiful, and the way she looked at him, her dark blue eyes lingering on him, her gaze caressing him…she wanted him. And he sure as hell wanted her, more than any other woman he'd ever met.

  What he wouldn't give to taste her, just once.

  He grabbed his jeans and started to put them on.

  "I can't do this," he muttered, throwing his jeans down. If he went to her, how would he control himself?

  Remembering how he'd stroked her luscious body and got her off in Atlanta, he cursed. That had been so damned good. His whole body ached with the need to touch her again, to give her an orgasm. He wouldn't have sex with her. He would just make her come.

  After dragging on his jeans, he felt the handcuffs in the pocket. He'd cleaned them a few hours ago, fantasizing the whole time about handcuffing her to the bed, just like that scene in her sexy romance book.

  He was an idiot for even considering it…but her fantasy intruded on his thoughts again. Her legs spread wide, she was touching herself, rubbing her fingers in a circle over her wet, swollen clit.

  He ground his teeth at how hot that was.

  In the next image that invaded his brain, her arms were stretched above her head, and her wrists secured in his handcuffs. He pushed her thighs up and apart…

  Dammit, he couldn't wait any longer to see her, to taste her. After yanking open the door, he climbed the stairs and quietly strode barefoot down the dim hallway to her door and paused, lightning illuminating the way.

  Hell! He shouldn't do this. If he knocked, if he went into that bedroom, he'd want to do a lot more than touch her with his hands and mouth. He wanted it all. Everything. To take her every way possible. But with Emily, it wouldn't simply be a quick fuck. It would be something he'd never forget. Something he wouldn't want to walk away from.

  But he couldn't have everything he wanted. He would handcuff her and lick her head to toe. What would she taste like? He had to know.

  He knocked lightly at the door.

  His psychic vision had ended, but he suspected she was right on the edge of orgasm and he wanted to be there for that, and be the cause of it.

  "Emily?" he said, fighting the urge to turn the knob and walk in.

  Moments later, the door inched open. She wore a short pink robe and looked completely edible in the soft lamplight. Her hair was slightly mussed, her eyes dark with yearning, her lips parted. She appeared beyond speech. Her breathing was shallow and erratic.

  "Can I come in?" he asked, arousal churning through him, urging him to dive in for a kiss. But he must maintain control.

  "Umm…yes." Her words were husky and little more than a whisper. Her eyes searched his.

  He inhaled, drawing in her female fragrance…the sweet, erotic scent of her essence.

  "I know what you were doing." His cock was fully hard, eager to slide between those wet sex lips. He had to see them, touch them, taste them.

  A blush reddened her face and throat. "Trying to sleep."

  He shook his head. "No."

  "So, what was I doing?" Annoyance sharpened her tone, yet her darkened eyes ate him up.

  "You really want me to tell you?" he murmured, then glanced down at her nipples, protruding through the thin silky material of her robe, making him ache.

  She bit her lip, remaining silent.

  "I'm psychic sometimes. Remember?" he asked.

  "Oh." The blush intensified. "Well, if you're so psychic why don't you figure out where the killer is and send in the police?"

  "I would if I could, but it doesn't work like that. I see what I see. I was never able to learn to control it. What I do know is that you're fantasizing about us—together—and touching yourself."

  Her mouth dropped open. "Are you insane?"

  He tried to hold back his grin. "Most likely."

  "So now you read minds, do you?"

  He nodded. "Yours. I know what you want." Though it was threatening his sanity, he wanted to play with her again. Maybe fulfill some of her fantasies. And his own.

  He slid his hand into his jeans pocket, pulled out the handcuffs and dangled them from a finger. "Look what I brought."

  She frowned and her nipples hardened further beneath that silk robe, making his mouth water. "What? You're going to arrest me?" Her tone was defensive and irritated, but beneath that, he felt her powerful arousal.

  He grinned. "If that's the game you want to play."

  "I don't want to play any games. I want you to…to go back to your room." She crossed her arms over her chest, hiding those luscious nipples.

  "Liar," he said just above a whisper.

  She approached him and gently pushed him toward the door—a feeble effort even for her small frame—but her hand lingered on one of his biceps, squeezed. Her other hand, cool and silky, pressed against his bare chest. She inhaled, and let out a breath that sounded like a soft sigh.

  "Go, damn you," she said in a husky whisper. "You don't know the meaning of…"

  Moving quickly, he grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head against the closed door. "What?" he asked, studying her lips—dark pink, swollen and parted. He ached to kiss her, slide his tongue into her mouth and consume it. Her gaze was furious. Passionate. Damn, if Emily aroused wasn't making him crazy with yearning.

  Chapter Nine

  "Turn me loose!" Emily tried to yank her wrists from Nick's unbreakable grip. Though if he let go, she'd hunger for his touch even more fiercely.

  "That's not what you want," he murmured, his breath heating her cheek as he lightly brushed his l
ips over her skin. "Is it?"

  Tingles covered her from her neck to her toes and her heart pounded furiously. "Yes." She tried to yell, but the words only came out a soft whisper.

  But Nick was right. His hands restraining her, holding her arms above her head were making her hotter. Why didn't he kiss her? She was dying for the masculine taste of him, the harsh rasp of his stubble against her chin, the thrust of his tongue. She wanted a hard, driving kiss from him.

  "I know what you fantasize about, little-miss-innocent." His breath skated over her lips. His dark, taunting expression both infuriated and aroused her.

  "I'm not innocent, and you don't have a clue what I fantasize about."

  He gave a smirking grin. "I've seen your stash of naughty books in the nightstand."

  "How…what were you doing in my nightstand?"

  "I searched your house, remember?"

  She could think of nothing intelligent to say. So he'd read her erotic romance novels while searching her house? How could he have had time, and why was he interested in her reading material, anyway?

  She was too distracted by his mouth-watering, bare pecs and abs, as well as that intriguing protrusion behind his zipper to ask.

  Leaning in, he captured her mouth, and immediately, she was ready to consume him. She opened her mouth and he drove his tongue in with a primal growl. His tongue stroked hers, then flicked the roof of her mouth.

  "Mmm." He tasted so good, so male and aroused.

  "Damn," he breathed, then urged her to the bed, made her lie back on it and took the steel handcuffs into his other hand. That kiss, along with his dominance and manhandling, made her lightheaded with anticipation.

  She tried to jerk away from him, at least she pretended to, but he already had one cuff secured around her wrist. He lifted her arms and ran the cuffs around the headboard post, then snapped her other wrist in. Maybe she should've fought him, kicked, yelled and screamed. But arousal had robbed her body of strength. Besides, why would she want to escape her own fantasy?

  She'd always known it would be stupid to get involved with him, but she'd also known if he made a move on her, she'd never be able to resist. Craving him was as natural to her as breathing. It was something she'd lived with for three years. She couldn't say no to someone she wanted more than anything or anyone on earth.