Excavated (7 page)

Her
legs thus free, she tried to wrap one around him as he leaned to take a breast
in his mouth again.

Her
body ached with need, and she couldn’t seem to hold herself still. When she
felt one of Philip’s hands slide between her thighs and stroke her intimately,
she released a breathy cry of pleasure. Then another one when he slid two
fingers inside her.

He
stroked her as he suckled her breast, and improbably soon her body shook with a
hard, fast climax, choking on his name as she came.

She’d
barely come down when new waves of desire consumed her. She pulled Philip up
eagerly, trying to get him in position above her.

He
was just as out of control as her, and he rocked into her shamelessly as he
sank into another urgent kiss.

His
body was hot and lean and gorgeous, but he was so much more than that. He was
tension. Need. Hunger. Everything he always tried so hard to control.

She
felt it now. She wanted it. Needed it. She couldn’t help but cling to it,
stroke it, open herself up to it.

She’d
spread her legs to make room for him and was pushing his underwear out of the
way when he suddenly jerked his mouth away from hers.

“Condom,”
he rasped, panting above her.

“Shit.”
She couldn’t believe she’d almost forgotten. They weren’t in a
relationship—they couldn’t have unprotected sex.

Philip
rolled off her, groaning as if it took effort, and he was so tight with tension
he was almost shaking with it. “I don’t have condoms with me here.”

He’d
seemed so cool and controlled since she’d arrived on the island. She was almost
shocked by his neediness now.

But
she wanted it. So much more than his control.

She
scrambled out of bed and stumbled over to her suitcase, finding a few condoms
she’d put in a small pocket a while back and had never used.

She
liked that Philip didn’t have condoms with him on the island. She liked that he
didn’t usually have casual sex.

She
opened the packet and then reached down to stroke Philip’s erection, her hands
almost trembling on the hard length of him as his breath hitched at her touch.

She
rolled the condom on and then pulled him back on top of her.

He
eased himself into her, the penetration tight and deep and agonizingly good. Lucy
shifted and tossed her head, trying to process the sensations.

For
just a moment, when he was fully sheathed inside her, he stayed perfectly
still, breathing in hot pants against her skin, all of the coiled tension
reined in.

Then
he let it go.

Their
motion was fast and hard and almost clumsy—their hips slapping together and the
small bed banging against the wall.

Lucy’s
eager huffs turned into little sobbing sounds as she felt an orgasm start to
build.

She
wanted more of him. She urged him on—clawing at his back, wrapping her legs
around his middle, squeezing around him demandingly.

Philip
was grunting, flushed and perspiring as he worked his flesh in hers. The
muscles of his arms and shoulders strained, and she knew he wasn’t going to
last long.

She
didn’t care. She was almost there. She cried out loudly as the pressure
released in waves of rich sensation.

Philip
came with her, crying out as uninhibitedly as she did.

Then
his elbows buckled and he collapsed on top of her.

Lucy
tried to catch her breath as her body relaxed deliciously.

She
was hot now. Philip’s weight on top of her was delicious and troubling both.

There
was a weird twisting of fear in her gut, but her physical satisfaction
overwhelmed it for the moment.

“Wow,”
she said at last, mostly to break a different sort of tension that had started
to build.

Philip
gave a huff. “Wow is right.”

She
pushed at his shoulder gently, and he responded by rolling over and pulling out
of her.

As
he took care of the condom, Lucy stretched and collected the wet clothes
littering the bed, dumping them in a heap on the floor.

Philip
got back in bed with her, pulling a blanket over both of them.

She
didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know what she
wanted
to say. But she
was a little worried at the way she instinctively nestled against his warm
body.

“What
are you thinking?” Philip asked at last.

Lucy
told herself to be reasonable. She was a mature adult. She was only on this
island for a couple of weeks. She might as well enjoy this while she could.

This
didn’t have to mean anything.

Once
she’d settled it in her own mind, she was able to say lightly, “I’m thinking
we’re too good together not to do it again.”

Lucy woke up warm and
kind of cramped.

She
shifted a little and discovered that she was trapped between something hard and
something harder. The harder thing was cool while the hard thing was nice and
warm, so she pressed against the hard thing and was surprised when it started
to move.

She
groaned groggily and clung to it when it kept pulling away.

“I’m
sorry, Lucy,” she heard through the haze in her mind. “I need to get up.”

She
blinked and discovered that the nice, warm, hard thing was Philip’s body, which
he was currently trying to retrieve from her grasp. “Oh. Sorry.”

The
cool, harder thing was the wall, so she rolled away from it. She felt
deliciously relaxed and slightly sore, so she stretched leisurely, trying to
make her mind work again.

“What
time is it?” she asked, watching as Philip collected what he needed for a
shower.

“Six-thirty.”

She
blinked. “You slept late.”

“Yeah.”
He glanced out the small trailer window. “It’s still pouring down rain, so we
won’t be able to dig today anyway.”

Lucy
frowned. He’d pulled on his underwear after they’d had sex last night, and that
was still all he wore. He was gorgeous with his smooth shoulders, lean flanks,
and flat abdomen, and it would be nice if he’d come back to bed. “Why are you
getting up so early if you can’t work?”

“I’ve
got work I can do in the office—cataloging and such.” He’d been distracted and
a little distant, but his face softened as he looked at her fully for the first
time.

His
face softened a little too much.

“Are
you laughing at my hair?” she demanded. It must look horrible, after going to
bed with it damp last night and being tumbled wildly with their lovemaking.

He
chuckled and didn’t answer.

“Well,
you’ve got scratches all down your back—and probably on your butt too—so I’m
not the only one looking worse for wear.”

Philip
did look a little worse for wear. For no good reason, she flushed at this
evidence of how shamelessly eager she’d been last night.

She
couldn’t remember the last time she’d let go so completely.

At
least Philip had let go as well. She wasn’t the only one who’d wanted it so
much.

With
a smile, Philip leaned over the bed and gave her a soft kiss. “As a matter of
fact, I do have scratches on my ass,” he murmured against her mouth. “Guilty as
charged.”

She
giggled helplessly and tried to pull him into bed with her, but he resisted.

“I’m
sorry,” he said. “But I need to get dressed. I’m late already, and the grad
students are probably already up.”

“Can’t
you take a morning off? I guarantee I’ll give you a better time than all your
excavated artifacts do.”

“I
have no doubts about that.” He was smiling but unyielding. “I’m going to take a
shower.”

The
shower was functional but fairly primitive—in the adjacent small bathroom. As
he disappeared into it, Lucy sighed and rolled back over.

She
shouldn’t be grumpy. This was his life and job—not a vacation. She shouldn’t
expect him to toss it aside just to have another round of sex with her. Had she
planned to be shooting this morning, she would be out of bed and focused
too—not lolling around, thinking dirty thoughts about his fine body.

But
still…it would be nice if he’d seemed a little more tempted by her invitation.

***

Lucy shook her head and
leaned back in her chair, idly rubbing her head where the pins in her chignon
were sticking into her scalp.

This
day wasn’t going at all the way she’d planned.

The
rain had really put a damper on her filming schedule, and it showed no signs of
stopping any time soon.

Michael
MacPherson, her expert on Orkney lore, had come out to the island today. Since
he was skittish about being on camera anyway, she hadn’t wanted to risk
suggesting he come another day when the weather was less inclement.

They
could hardly film his interview segments outside in the pouring rain, so they
were now all crowded in Philip’s small office.

She’d
started with the questions she and Dana had prepared, but soon the conversation
unraveled completely. Philip had wanted to sit in, and there was no reason why
he couldn’t. But, instead of her asking the questions, Michael had started
asking Philip questions about the island.

Now,
two hours into it, the two men were deep in an intense discussion about minute
details of Orkney history and ancient culture.

Lucy’s
viewers would have no interest in such specialized information, and she had
only a limited amount of interest herself.

She
saw Sawyer make a face, still dutifully filming the discussion, and then he
shot her a questioning look.

She
made a silent gesture with her hand, indicated he should keep filming. She’d
noticed a few good snippets she could use for the show—some voiced by Philip
and some by Michael. And then maybe she could also edit together an amusing
montage to illustrate how impassioned some scholars were with the site.

Besides,
she kind of liked how much Philip was enjoying the conversation. He’d always
been intense, and she liked to see it channeled this way.

He’d
always struck her as rather lonely. Maybe even more so now than when she’d
known him before. He’d had a conflicted relationship with his mother back
during the campaign, but it had been clear that she was important to him. He’d
had friends too, but he hadn’t been able to devote a lot of time to a social
life because his work on the campaign took up so much of his time.

He’d
only been twenty-three. His mother shouldn’t have made him sacrifice a normal
life in service of her political ambitions.

Now,
however, Lucy wasn’t sure who Philip had in his life. All of his connections
seemed to be professional.

But
Philip genuinely seemed to like and respect Michael. And vice versa. It gave
her an odd, twisting satisfaction in her chest.

When
the conversation finally seemed to wind down—neither man having any additional
information to share about the significance of the faint tool marks on one of
the standing stones—Lucy leaned forward.

She
still needed a few sound bites from Michael before he departed.

“Michael,”
she said, “I’m wondering about these rumors about the site being haunted by the
ghosts of ancient warriors.”

Philip
snorted, and she slanted him an annoyed look.

She
continued, “Do you think that’s based on any longstanding legend from the
islands?”

“Most
of our hauntings are female—white women, wailing women, various and sundry
women. The stories of the warrior ghosts didn’t surface until the hippies came
with their incense and chanting.”

Lucy
tried to keep her mouth composed, but the man’s dry response—and his strong
Orkney accent—made her want to laugh. “So you think these current stories are
just made up by people who hope to encounter the supernatural.”

Michael
nodded his shaggy head. “There’s real power here—no mistake. But it’s not in a
ghost or a haunting.”

Lucy
felt the little thrill she always experienced when someone gave her a perfect
sound bite. She nodded at Sawyer, indicating he could stop the filming.

She’d
been planning to walk with Michael to the ferry now, since she knew he wanted
to get back to Mainland before evening. But he turned to Philip and asked
another question about a necklace they’d unearthed a few weeks ago. Philip
launched into an enthusiastic explanation that eventually led to an argument
about whether the ancient people here used jewelry for worship or for
adornment.

Lucy
shook her head and gave up.

***

Philip was surprised by
how much he’d enjoyed the afternoon. He hadn’t had many hopes for the
pseudo-expert Lucy had brought over, but he’d found the man informed, engaged,
and fascinating.

It
was late when he and Lucy watched Michael leave on the private ferry Lucy had
arranged for him.

The
rain was still coming down.

Lucy,
having changed out of her
Girl Meets Ghost
clothes, now wore jeans and a
hooded raincoat. She glared up at the steel gray sky with a frown. “I was
hoping to finish the shoot in the barrow tonight.”

He
shook his head. “It will be a mud pit. You’ll have to wait another night or two
until it dries up.”

He
didn’t mind that the night shoot was delayed. He didn’t feel like spending
another evening in a wet, muddy tomb.

Besides,
he could think of more interesting things they could be doing tonight.

Lucy
just kept frowning and headed back to the trailer with Arthur at her heels.
They’d eaten dinner with Michael and the others two hours ago, so he assumed
she was planning to go to bed now.

He
wondered if he was invited.

She’d
said last night that they should have sex again, and this morning she’d tried
to make a move on him, one he’d been sorely tempted to accept. He would have
accepted had he not been feeling far too soft and needy for a casual sexual
encounter.

But,
since then, Lucy had acted purely professional—interacting with him in her
normal intelligent and ironic way.

Maybe
she’d decided it should just be a one-night stand.

Philip
could understand that. A one-night stand was less complicated than a one-week
liaison. But he didn’t feel like he’d gotten quite enough of Lucy, and he was
hoping for a few more nights with her.

At
least one more night. At least tonight.

They
made it to the trailer and Philip stopped, unsure of whether he should go with
her to the bedroom or head to the office to sleep on the couch.

She
stopped too. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.”
He wondered how he was supposed to discreetly ask whether she wanted to spend
another night together. He was really out of practice at this, and it made him
feel like an idiot.

It
had been a very long time since he’d had sex.

“You’re
coming in, aren’t you?” she asked, gesturing to the bedroom door. She was
frowning even more deeply, as if she was surprised and displeased by his
reticence.

“Of
course.” He let out a breath of relief and added with a teasing lilt, “I don’t
sleep on that couch unless I have to.”

She
laughed deliciously as they entered the room, and then they were on each other
again.

Philip
had assumed that tonight he would be less urgent and hungry—since he was no
longer breaking a long dry spell—but he had no more control than he’d had the
night before.

While
Arthur went to his blanket to settle in for the night, they tore off each
other’s clothes and tumbled onto the bed. He couldn’t stop kissing her, even as
he tried to focus enough to caress her with some degree of skill.

Despite
his efforts, he couldn’t summon any skill at all. He was just as eager—almost
clumsy in his driving need—as the night before. He couldn’t remember ever
wanting someone so much.

Lucy’s
mood matched his, and she arched and wriggled beneath him, her warm, soft,
little body pliant and responsive to all of his touches.

Philip’s
own body throbbed dangerously with arousal, and the throbbing just continued as
he hurriedly rolled on a condom and slid himself inside her.

She
folded her legs up on either side of his hips, and he groaned as he sank in
deeper.

He
tried to catch his breath, get himself under control. But he just couldn’t. He
started thrusting immediately, fast and hard, and Lucy’s hips bucked up toward
his wildly, as if she couldn’t hold them still either.

Soon
she was making little sobbing noises, clawing at his back and ass. And he was
pounding into her harder than he meant to—harder than he should have.

But
she wanted it. She definitely wanted it. Her channel had tightened around his
erection with delicious pressure, and he knew she was close to coming.

“Harder,”
she gasped, arching her neck, her blond hair tousled messily around her flushed
face. “I need more, Philip!”

He
bit his lip, stifling the primitive grunts he’d been making. He was about to
come—he could feel it tightening in his balls—but he didn’t want to come until
she had.

He
intensified his rhythm even more, the bed squeaking wildly and the frame
banging against the wall.

One
tiny part of his mind wondered if they could be heard outside the trailer.

Lucy’s
fingers gouged into the muscles of his ass as her whole body shuddered tightly.
He could see now she was right on the verge, and then he could see the release
transform her face as her orgasm finally broke.