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.