Secretly Craving You (9 page)

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 unrolled the object within. An oblong stone in a plastic bag fell into her palm. "Bingo."

"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."

"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."