Guilty Cravings (The Steamy South 1) (12 page)

Nick shoved himself
from the bed and halted, staring down at his fully erect cock.

“I can’t do this,” he
muttered. If he went to her, how would he control himself?

Remembering how he’d
stroked her and got her off in Atlanta, he cursed. That had been so damned
good. His whole body ached with the need to touch her again, to give her an
orgasm. He wouldn’t have sex with her. He would just make her come.

After sliding on his
jeans, he fingered the handcuffs in the pocket. Was it too soon to handcuff her
to the bed? Based on her reading material, that had to be a fantasy of hers,
and he yearned to fulfill it.

He climbed the stairs
and strode down the dim hallway to her door and paused.

Hell!
He shouldn’t do this. If he
knocked, if he went into that bedroom, he’d want to do a lot more than touch
her with his hands. He wanted it all. Everything. To taste her, to take her
every way possible. But with Emily, it wouldn’t simply be a quick fuck. It would
be something he’d never forget. Something he wouldn’t want to walk away from.

But he couldn’t. He’d
watch her. Or handcuff her and lick her head to toe. What would she taste like?
He had to know.

He knocked lightly at
the door.

His psychic vision
had ended, but he suspected she was right on the edge of orgasm and he wanted
to be there for that, and be the cause of it.

“Emily?” he said,
fighting the urge to turn the knob and walk in.

Moments later, the
door inched open. She wore the short pink robe and looked completely edible.
Her hair mussed, her eyes dark, her lips parted. She appeared beyond speech.
Her breathing was shallow and erratic.

“Can I come in?” he
asked, arousal churning through him, urging him to dive in for a kiss. But he
must maintain control.

“Umm…yes.” Her words
were husky and little more than a whisper.

He inhaled, drawing
in her female fragrance…the sweet scent of her pussy juices that were likely
even now dripping onto her thighs.

“I know what you were
doing,” he said, his cock fully hard, eager to slide between those slick sex lips
he couldn’t see at the moment. He had to see them, touch them, taste them.

A blush reddened her
face and throat. “Trying to sleep.”

He quirked his lips.
“Right.”

“So what was I
doing?” Annoyance sharpened her tone.

“You really want me
to tell you?”

She didn’t respond to
that.

“I’m psychic
sometimes. Remember?”

“Oh.” The blush
intensified. “Well, if you’re so psychic why don’t you figure out where the
killer is and send in the police?”

“I would if I could,
but it doesn’t work like that. I see what I see. I was never able to learn to
control it. What I do know is that you’re playing with your toys and I want to
watch, or help…if you’ll let me.”

Her mouth dropped
open. “Are you insane?”

“Most likely.”

“I don’t have any…any
toys. I’m a grown woman.”

He bit his lip to
squelch the laugh that threatened to burst out. “You certainly are.” Her
feminine curves beneath that short, thin robe made him ache. He imagined
parting those bare thighs. “You and I both know these
toys
are for grown
women.”

“Oh my god,” she
muttered.

“I bet you left that
little purple dildo under the covers so you could jump on it again. Didn't you?”
He started toward the bed.

“No! Don’t you dare…”
She chased after him.

“What?” He paused and
turned, almost causing her to bump into him.

“Get near my bed.
It’s private! What I do is…is private and not your business.”

“I disagree.” He
lowered his voice. “When I made you come in Atlanta, that made it my business.”

“I didn’t ask you to
do that. I was barely awake! And you were rubbing my butt with your hard…. It
was your fault!”

He couldn’t hold back
the smile. “I’ll gladly take the blame, sweetness. But let’s be honest. It was
your luscious ass that was rubbing my dick, not the other way around. And you
loved it when I slipped my hand into your panties and stroked your sweet little
clit ’til you blasted off.”

“Oh my god,” she
whispered.

“Yeah. Exactly.” He
flung back her covers and discovered the purple dildo lying there waiting for
her. It was probably coated in her juices.
Mmm.
He wanted his cock
coated in her juices. But he couldn’t take it that far. Though it was
threatening his sanity, he wanted to play with her again. Maybe fulfill some of
her fantasies. And his own.

He slid his hand into
his jeans pocket and pulled out the handcuffs, which he’d cleaned thoroughly
just for her, and dangled them from a finger. “Look what I brought.”

Her mouth dropped
open and her nipples hardened further beneath that silk robe, tempting him.
“What? You’re going to arrest me?”

He grinned. “If
that’s the game you want to play.”

“I don’t want to play
any games. I want you to…to go back to your room.”

“Liar,” he said just
above a whisper.

She approached him
and gently pushed him toward the door—a feeble effort even for her small
frame—but her hand lingered on one of his biceps, squeezed. Her other hand,
cool and silky, pressed against his bare chest. She inhaled, and let out a
breath that sounded like a soft sigh.

“Go, damn you,” she
said in a husky whisper.

Moving quickly, he
grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head against the wall. Her lips
were red, swollen and parted. He ached to kiss her, slide his tongue into her
mouth and consume it, but somehow restrained himself. Her gaze was furious.
Passionate. Damn, if Emily aroused wasn’t making him crazy with yearning
himself.

“Stop it, Nick!”

Chapter
Nine

“Turn me loose!”
Emily tried to yank her wrists from Nick’s unbreakable grip. Though if he let
go, she’d hunger for his touch even more fiercely.

“That’s not what you
want,” he murmured, his breath heating her cheek as he lightly brushed his lips
over her skin. “Is it?”

Tingles covered her
from her neck to her toes. “Yes.” She tried to yell, but the words only came
out a soft whisper.

But Nick was right.
His hands restraining her, holding her arms above her head was making her
hotter. Why didn’t he kiss her? She was dying for the masculine taste of him,
the harsh rasp of his stubble against her chin, the thrust of his tongue. She
wanted a hard, driving kiss from him.

“I know what you
fantasize about, little-miss-innocent.” His breath skated over her lips. His
dark, taunting expression both infuriated and aroused her.

“I’m not innocent and
you don’t have a clue what I fantasize about.”

He gave a smirking
grin. “I’ve seen your stash of naughty books in the nightstand, sweetheart.”

“How…what were you
doing in my nightstand?”

“I searched your
house, remember?”

She could think of
nothing intelligent to say. So he’d read her erotic romance books while
searching her house? How could he have time, and why was he interested in her
reading material, anyway?

She was too
distracted by his mouth-watering, bare pecs and abs as well as that intriguing
protrusion behind his zipper to ask. He urged her to the bed, made her lie back
on it and took the steel handcuffs into his other hand. His dominance and
manhandling made her lightheaded with anticipation. She tried to jerk away from
him, at least she pretended to, but he already had one cuff secured around her
wrist. He lifted her arms and ran the cuffs around the headboard post, then
snapped her other wrist in. She should’ve fought him, should’ve kicked, yelled
and screamed. But arousal had robbed her body of strength. Besides, why would
she want to escape her own fantasy?

She tested the
strength of the handcuffs. The cool metal bit into her skin, a sharp,
electrifying contrast to his hot hands sliding down her arms.

“I read that scene in
the book where the pages were dog-eared. Hell, the spine of the book was broken
you’d read that scene so many times. I know you fantasize about being
handcuffed to a bed. Don’t you?”

He observed her with
fascination. Normally his steady gaze was piercing and unreadable, but now his
eyes had darkened with deep arousal.

She could hardly
breathe because what he said was true. In her fantasies, Nick was always the
hard, edgy cop who handcuffed her to a bed—and a lot of other wicked things.

What was he going to
do to her next? Would he rip off her meager clothes? She could hope. He was
already shirtless and barefoot, and she wished he would remove his jeans.

“If you want loose
and want me to leave, just say
I hate you
.” He waited, not touching her.
So that was to be their safe word, or safe phrase. She liked the way he played,
wanting to fulfill her fantasies but also make her feel secure and protected at
the same time.

Of course she didn’t
hate him. Nor did she want him to leave her bedroom. Her body hummed with
anticipation and yearning. Prickles of need swirled through her pussy. She’d
love any part of him stroking against it, his fingers, his cock…

“I also searched your
lingerie drawer,” he confessed. “I found your stash of toys. I know you have
several more besides your little purple dildo.”

She squeezed her eyes
shut, though she didn’t know why. So she had a vibrator, a dildo and a couple
other things. So what? Most women did these days. She’d been divorced for over
a year and certainly not ready to date or have random sex with strangers. But
she was still a woman with sexual needs.

A drawer closed
softly. Nick started back toward her carrying two more toys—the vibrator and
anal beads—then he lay them on the bed near her.

“Are you insane?” she
asked. How could he be so forward and unfazed by all this? The toys were her
most profound, locked-away secret. No one else knew, not even her friends. She
was drowning in a sea of mortification and arousal, unsure which was dominant
at the moment.

“Insane?” He grinned.
“No, but I’m going to drive you crazy.”

Exactly what she
needed—erotic torture from the bad boy she’d fantasized about for the past
three years. Her crotch was soaked, and her legs were trembling. Waves of heat
and shivers passed over her skin because, dammit, now she had a crush on Nick.
Actually, she’d had a crush on him longer than she cared to admit. He drew her
on much more than a physical level. He stirred up her emotions even more
intensely than he did her body.

He sat on the
mattress by her hip and observed her. “You’re so hot right now,” he murmured,
looking beyond scorching himself. His silver eyes had turned smoky, his lashes
lowered. “I’m going to untie your robe belt.”

Her heart rate
skyrocketing, she remained silent, simply trying to breathe evenly.

“What do you say?” he
asked.

She nodded. “Yes,”
she whispered, wanting her clothes off. And his. Her skin ached to have his
naked body sliding along it. To feel those hard pecs, or his washboard abs
pressed against her.

He tugged at the belt
and gently parted the robe. She wasn’t wearing a nightgown. She’d only had time
to yank on her panties when he’d knocked…as she was approaching orgasm. She
hadn’t wanted to stop, but the idea of seeing Nick during such an erotic moment
had been too enticing to resist.

“I was hoping to find
you naked under here.” Stroking his slightly roughened fingertips over her
stomach, along her ribcage and beneath her bare breasts, he covered her body in
tingles of anticipation.

Touch me.

She almost asked, her
hard nipples aching to be squeezed and tormented by his fingers. With his
teasing touch, intense chills covered her and she gasped. Her back arched off
the bed before she could prevent it.

“Nick?”

“Hmm?” Using both
hands, he hooked his fingers into her pink bikini panties, gently slid them
down her thighs and tossed them aside. “Damn, you’re wet,” he murmured and blew
out a breath.

She glanced down at
his jeans fly and the protrusion behind it. “And you’re hard.”

His eyes met hers.
“You got that right.”

So, bare that
gorgeous cock and put it to use.

Bending forward, he
placed gentle kisses between her breasts, inhaled deeply and moaned. His
expression soulful and filled with need, he brushed his lips across one nipple,
then pressed an adoring kiss to the tip.

“Yes.” She arched her
back, pushing her breast more firmly against his mouth. His stubble stimulated
her, taunted her.

“Mmm.” He flicked his
tongue against her aching nipple.

“Oh my god, Nick,”
she gasped. “Yes. Please.”