Secretly Craving You(5)

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.