Secretly Craving You (2 page)

"I was looking for a clue or evidence. Jared had a lot of antiquities lying around. Maybe some so rare and valuable someone would be willing to kill for them. I already searched his apartment and didn't find anything. I thought he might have hidden something here. Or maybe you got something in the divorce that was more valuable than anyone realized."

She shook her head. "I didn't get any of his antiquities. He put most of them in storage or safe deposit boxes while we were still married. He always had a safe too."

"The safe in his apartment was cleaned out," Nick said. "Does this house have any concealed nooks or secret passages where Jared might have hidden something?"

"No. There's a safe, but it contains nothing but my important papers."

"Damn," Nick muttered. As if lost in deep thought for a moment, he scratched the short stubble on his square jaw. She wondered what it would feel like brushing against her sensitive skin. A prickle of excitement raced through her.

Abruptly, his attention shifted back to her, his gaze dropping briefly to her cleavage. She tugged the robe tighter over her breasts. Her tingling nipples were beaded so hard, she couldn't hide them beneath the thin material. Was he remembering what she'd looked like naked?

He turned toward the door. "Well, I'll get going."

"Wait. You think you can simply break into my house anytime you want? You didn't say how you got in, or why you didn't ask my permission first."

He gave a slight grin which was far too charming. Naturally, he'd try to wriggle out of this. "You don't want to know."

"Yes, I do. You're supposed to be a cop. What are you doing breaking and entering?"

His jaw clenched hard and his silver eyes turned piercing. "I
am
a police officer, and I
wasn't
breaking and entering."

"Really? What do you call it, then?" Her heart-rate spiked with excitement at her own daring words. Was she nuts to challenge him this way? She didn't think so; she truly wanted to get to the bottom of why he was in her house uninvited.

"Look, I know I'm out of my jurisdiction and bending the rules. My only brother was murdered. I have to find out who did it and see them behind bars."

"The end justifies the means?"

His hardened cop look intensified. "Exactly."

"So, you picked my lock. Or did you break a window? Why didn't you drop by—and use the doorbell—when I was home? I would've let you search."

He shrugged, giving her a dark and mysterious look. "I didn't know if you would. I preferred that you weren't here, telling me where to look. I had to cover all the bases."

Holy crap.
She hoped he hadn't searched her lingerie drawer. She kept something in there no one could ever know about. Certainly not him. Not the man she hated herself for fantasizing about. Even when she'd been married to his brother.

A blush seared her entire body and he happened to be observing her with that expression in his eyes—the one he'd had the first time they'd met, at her and Jared's engagement party. What was that look? It crackled with tension and electricity…a communication. A connection. Almost as if he wanted to pounce on her, but he always glanced away or walked off.

He wasn't doing that now. He practically pinned her to the spot.
Hunger.
That's what she saw in his eyes.

"Well…" She was the first to break eye contact. She didn't mean to notice the fly of his jeans, but she did in passing. Was that a protrusion? Did he have a hard-on?

Breathless excitement raced through her. She focused on the wide boards of the hardwood floor and tried to steady her breathing, her heart rate.

What the hell was wrong with her? An intruder was in her bedroom and all she could think about was what was in his jeans?

No guesswork there. She'd accidentally caught sight of his hard cock one time. It was large, thick and mouthwatering. No matter that one of her friends had been trying to swallow it at the time. She'd observed it and his entire naked, muscle-sculpted body in action. He made sex an art form. His hips thrusting powerfully, his cock gliding smoothly. She had fantasized about that memory too many times to count. Had put herself in her friend's place. Former friend.

Now, Emily was wet and tingly…and wearing no panties.

"If you'd like to wait downstairs…" She barely got the words out and they sounded breathy.

"You got it." He slowly turned and headed out the door, his black motorcycle boots clunking on the oak floor. His ass was damned sexy in those worn jeans. His too-long, tawny-blond hair, broad shoulders, and tattooed biceps stretching that black T-shirt—although the opposite of what she normally found attractive in a man—were delectable on Nick.

Once he left, she wanted to collapse. The tension that had filled the room in his presence overwhelmed her. And she couldn't believe how turned on she was, just from standing across the room from him.

Nick paced across the oriental carpet in Emily's living room. He couldn't get the vivid image of her nude body out of his head. Damned if she wasn't luscious in every sense of the word. He'd love to lick and nibble every inch of her pale smooth skin. Her breasts were perfection, not too small, not too large. Perky with hard, suckable nipples.

A moan escaped, but he cleared his throat to cover it, glancing toward the stairs. She was still dressing, no doubt.

The memory of that sweet little patch of short, light brown hair and the slit peeping through tormented him. He wanted to spread her legs, then her sweet feminine lips. Damn, how he craved a taste of her. His jeans constricted his granite-hard cock, and he adjusted his fly.

Despite knowing he shouldn't, he'd lusted for her from the first moment he'd seen her. Considering she was his brother's soon-to-be-bride at the time, that probably made him a bastard. But what could he do about it, except not look at her and try to stay far away?

Three years ago, the first time her eyes had met his, a shock had zapped through him. Those first few minutes after their introduction were rife with chemistry, at least for him. He thought she'd sensed it, too. She'd had an expression, almost like a startled hunger, a recognition, a flare of unexpected and stunned attraction.

When he'd kissed her cheek in greeting and smelled her sweet lavender-vanilla scent, his erection had sprung to life. He didn't know what the hell was going on with his reaction to her, nor could he control it. He'd tried to avoid her.

When a bridesmaid who'd had a couple of glasses of champagne had come on to Nick, he'd gone for it. Cassie had taken him upstairs to an empty hotel suite—at least he'd thought it was empty. But he recalled with vivid clarity every moment of that night and how aroused he'd been.

Closing his eyes, he let the memories flood through him.

Maybe he was an ass for fantasizing about Emily while he ripped Cassie's clothes off, but he couldn't help himself.

While Cassie was giving him a blow-job, Nick noticed movement from the corner of his eye in the darkened bedroom area of the suite. Someone in a long white gown moved behind an open closet door. It had to be Emily. Was she watching? Powerful arousal burned through him.

He was going to explode in a matter of seconds. He urged Cassie up and headed her toward the couch. He wanted to be inside her now. Hell, why not be honest? He wanted to be inside Emily right now, but that was impossible. So Cassie would have to do…while Emily observed.

Would this disgust her, or turn her on? For some reason, he knew it would turn her on. He hoped she was watching as he rolled the condom on, and he hoped she liked what she saw.

Beneath lowered lids, he covertly glanced at the closet again. He sensed Emily's gaze on him and it made him insane. Spreading Cassie's legs wide, he drove into her again and again, pounding her fast. She cried out, writhed and begged for more. He wanted Emily to witness every moment of the action.

And though it made him a bastard, he wanted her to fantasize about him. Why? He didn't know. She awoke his inner animal, a rutting beast that wanted to do nothing but take her fast, hard and furiously.

But the connection felt like more than a simple physical attraction. That first spark had happened when he'd looked into her eyes. Something challenging and ever fascinating awaited there. Something unreachable, untouchable. Something he could never have. She was his brother's wife and he would never touch her, aside from the innocent pecks on the cheek.

Still, the thought of her watching him revved up his arousal. The orgasm raced through him from his toes to the top of his head, pure hedonism and driving force, urging him to grind into her deep. Imagining at that final moment that Emily squeezed his cock as they came together.

He muttered a string of nonsensical words, then bit his tongue before he mistakenly said Emily's name. That might be all it would take to ruin his brother's marriage before it had begun.

After he finished, he ached to send Cassie away, go over to the closet and see how fiery Emily's blush was. If he did that, what would she do? Would she run out, shocked and mortified? Or would she ask for her turn?

Putting the formal clothes on again, he tried to ignore the woman behind the closet door, then he left the room with Cassie.

All the way back to the reception, he wanted to rush back to that room and see if Emily was still there. Was she undressing and revealing all those silky curves?

Ten minutes later, Emily returned to the reception wearing a shorter, more casual ivory dress. Her gaze flicked toward him and a crimson blush covered her face and throat. Arousal rampaged through him again because he knew she'd seen everything.

For three years, that had been Nick's favorite memory…and fantasy. Of course, he always embellished it, making Emily the focus. Now, he just needed to get away from her ASAP, before he was tempted to do something he shouldn't.

* * * *

Wearing what she hoped were unsexy yoga pants, a bra and t-shirt, Emily jogged down the stairs. She found Nick standing in her living room, staring out the window toward the street as if in deep thought. He appeared out of place among her dainty Victorian antiques. He reminded her of a wild animal—a golden panther, intelligent gaze and powerful muscles, quietly watching and waiting. Maybe dangerous?
Yes, definitely dangerous
. He exuded fearlessness and confidence.

Though caution kept her on guard, something about him reeled her in. She caught herself taking deeper breaths than necessary, testing the air for his hypnotizing scent. He was the type of man who made a woman think of sex—whether she wanted to or not—raw, pounding, up-against-the-wall sex.

Dear god, I've gone insane.
So it had been a while since she'd let a man touch her—she had good reason. And the first one to get noticed by her libido was her ex's younger brother?

Idiotic.

He pulled in a breath and turned his head slightly toward her.

"Would you like some coffee?" She gave a short laugh. "I can't believe I'm offering coffee to someone who broke into my house."

He gave a wry half-grin, but his dark gray eyes were magnetic. She could hardly think while his gaze held hers.

"No, thanks," he said. "I'm sorry for picking your lock, Emily. I thought it was the only way to be sure nothing was here. And I didn't want to alarm you."

Amazingly, he truly did sound contrite. The way he said her name in that deep, rough-edged voice snagged her attention and made her skin pebble. No, she had to focus.

"Surely you don't think I would hide something," she said. Was he investigating her?

"No. But everything about this is strange. I don't understand it."

"I didn't go to his funeral," she rushed to explain. "I couldn't. He had a new girlfriend. I hadn't talked to him or his parents in over a year."

Nick shrugged. "I noticed you weren't there."

"I hope you don't think I'm guilty of something because of that."

He shook his head. "I know it was a man who killed Jared. I just have to find the motive, then maybe I'll know his identity."

A cold ribbon of revulsion and fear slithered down her spine. Could Jared have actually been murdered? Why? And by whom? It was almost impossible for her to grasp that he was dead, much less murdered. Jared—the man she'd been married to for almost a year. The man she'd lost her heart to. The man who'd made her life hell on earth.

"Did he have any enemies?" Nick asked.

"I don't know. I rarely saw him after we separated almost two years ago. How do you know the murderer was a man?"

Nick studied her for a long speculative moment. "Can I trust you, Emily?"

His low, yet intense tone and his words left her speechless. Why did he keep saying her name in that hypnotic, enticing way? As if he enjoyed saying it, as if it were a special incantation.

"Yes," she said. "You can trust me. I mean, I won't tell anyone whatever you tell me."

"I hope not. They wouldn't believe you anyway. Hell,
you
probably won't believe me."

"If you say it's the truth, I will." She didn't know why, but she trusted him and wanted to earn his trust in return.

His gaze darkened, then he looked away and breathed deep. "I don't know if Jared or anyone told you, but sometimes I'm psychic."

"What? No. No one told me. Are you, truly?" She'd never imagined such a thing about him.

He gave a brief nod. "It's unpredictable. Since I was a kid—when I almost drowned—I've had visions. Not visions of the future, but visions of things as they're happening, across town or in another state. They always relate to someone I know. When Jared died, I was with him mentally. His death was no accident. Some bastard killed him and it had to do with an object. I just don't know what."

"Oh my god," she whispered. "That must have been horrible for you, seeing a vision of your brother dying."

"It was." Grim pain gleamed in his eyes. "Jared and I weren't too close in recent years, but we used to be when we were kids and teens. He was still my brother. I have to find whoever did this."

"Of course." If she had a murdered sibling, she'd feel the same way.

"This object—I think it was some sort of antiquity from Celtic culture. I haven't seen it, but in my vision, the man said something about Druids, supernatural powers and a ritual."

She nodded. "Sullivan is an ancient Irish name, and Jared was always fascinated by Celtic artifacts. But I had no idea he was interested in anything with supposed supernatural powers."

"Right. Sounds strange. That's all I know. I've searched his apartment, his new girlfriend's home, his office. I haven't found squat."

"How did you—"

Hard rock music blasted from Nick's phone and he slid it from the case on his belt. "Excuse me," he told her, then turned to pace away. "Nick here," he answered. "Right, I'll be there at seven," he murmured in a low tone. "Yeah, Rebel's." He paused, listening. "All right. See you later." He put his phone away and turned to Emily. "I have to get back to Atlanta. But I'll leave you my number. If you see or hear anything about Jared or this object, give me a call."

"Sure." Since she hadn't heard anything about it so far, she doubted she would. She retrieved a note pad and pen from the desk in the corner and Nick wrote down a number in terse scratches.

He stepped close and handed her the paper and pen. Being near him disturbed her on a primal level. He smelled delicious to her deprived senses, like leather and raw, aggressive male. A tingle traveled up her arms and circled her breasts. What would that dusky gold five o'clock shadow feel like rasping over her beaded nipples? And those sculpted, sensual lips. They would feel divine plucking at her nipples. Arousal rushed toward her crotch and she stepped back.

"I have to find the sonofabitch who killed him," Nick said. "I won't rest until I do."

She nodded, admiration for him overwhelming her. When she'd first met him, she'd been aware he was a playboy. Likely that was still true, but the determination in his eyes told her he had a more serious, deadly side. His cop side. It was frightening, but at the same time, electrifying.

"Call me if you need anything at all," he said, heading toward the door.

"Okay. Thanks." She needed something all right.

He gave her a mock salute and disappeared out the door.

She supposed they were even—they'd each seen the other naked. She glanced down at his number on the paper. Now that she had it, what would stop her from calling him should her sexual needs become overwhelming?