Secretly Craving You (8 page)

"Welcome home."

A shiver spiraled down her spine.
It's him,
she mouthed to Nick.

"Who is this?" Emily said into the phone, even though she already knew the person on the other end was the bastard who'd broken in, searched her house, then called her last night. The murderer.

"You know I can't tell you that," the creepy guy snapped, as if he had a right to be irate with her. "I see you brought in someone to help you. It won't matter."

Her head swirling with a million questions, she tried to think of what she should ask him while she had him on the phone. She also hoped either she or Nick might recognize his voice if she could get him to talk long enough. "Why did you cut my car's brake line?"

"You shouldn't have gone to Atlanta. The quicker you give me what I want, the quicker I'll leave you alone." She tried to determine if his voice sounded familiar. She wasn't sure. But he did have a slight southern accent.

"Did you kill Jared?" she asked.

"No. Why would I do something like that?" Sarcasm sharpened his words. Obviously a lie.

"You tell me." She tried to keep her voice from shaking.

"Here's all I'm telling you—get the
Clach Torach
and give it to me or I'll burn your little bridal shop to the ground."

An icy shock jolted her. "I don't have whatever you're looking for. I don't even know what it is, or what it looks like!"

"It's an ancient fertility object carved from marble. It looks like a penis. Do you know what a penis looks like?"

Emily couldn't breathe enough to form a response. The line went dead.

Nick strode into the room and removed the phone from her clenched hand to hang it up.

"Oh my god," she whispered. "Who is this psycho?" She didn't realize she was crying until tears streamed down her face and Nick pulled her into his arms. "A penis made out of marble?" she asked. "Why would he kill Jared over such a thing?"

"I don't know." Nick's deep murmur reached down into her soul. "Shh. Don't cry, baby."

Baby?
Since when did he call her
baby
? Anyway, it made her feel cared for.

She buried her face against his neck. "I'm okay." She barely pushed the words beyond her constricted throat, unable to remember the last time she'd been so terrified. But Nick's strong embrace went a long way in diffusing that fear, and made her crave having him hold her all night.

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.