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Authors: Mia Crawford
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hips, the gritty sand digging into her knees, and slide his cock deep inside her wet pussy. She’d ride him right there at the dig site until she reached sweet oblivion.
What was that? Brody was talking to her and she wasn’t paying any attention. She tuned back in to his words.
“It’s the weekend,” he said. He was wearing his usual outfit of cargo shorts and a short-sleeved shirt, but she noticed that sweat had made the hair at the nape of his neck curl. She had to physically restrain herself from reaching out and touching the little curls; she found them sexy as hell, but also kind of sweet. He was still talking. “You should have left early with the others. Get out and enjoy yourself.”
Tessa blinked. This was as close to a personal conversation as she’d ever had with Brody. “Thanks,” she said. “I’ll just finish up my section.” She pointed to the staked-off quadrant she had spent the past month excavating.
“You’ve done a good job,” Brody said, gesturing to the carefully excavated plot in front of him. “You’ve had some decent finds here. I think we’re getting close to the tomb entrance.”
Tessa’s mind whirled. He was complimenting her! She should capitalize on it, ask him if he wanted to share a drink back at the hotel. Location digs were notorious for all the people who hooked up. They were often in exotic locales far away from home, and people tended to let go of many of their inhibitions. This was her chance. She should ask him out. She should make the move. “Thanks,” she said. “I try.” That was it? That was the best she could do? What about telling him that she wanted to cover him in caramel and slowly lick it off? That she wanted to tie him to the bedposts and tease him with a feather until he begged for mercy?
Brody seemed uninterested in her insipid answer because he turned away. “I’m headed back to the hotel now if you want a lift.”
She’d love the chance to sit next to him in his Jeep, their thighs brushing with every bump in the road. Who was she kidding, though? With curly hair that tended to frizz and a skinny body with few womanly curves, she looked more like Marge Simpson than Jessica Rabbit. Brody would never be into her. She shook her head. “I’ve nearly finished documenting this trench, and I should get it done before the weekend.”
“Okay,” Brody said. “Maybe another time.”
Was it her overheated imagination or did he give her the once-over before striding off? She could have sworn he had stolen a lingering look at her breasts, but it had to be wishful thinking.
Tessa paused, enjoying the view of Brody’s long legs as he walked away from her. She sighed. She was insane to even entertain the fantasy of being with him. He had a brilliant archaeological mind and the sexiest body this side of the First Dynasty. She was just a short, pale nonentity. The only way he would ever notice her was for the excellence of her work. With that depressing thought, she turned back to the trench and picked up her tools with renewed determination.
As she carefully brushed away each layer of earth, her mind wandered back to Brody. Tessa was idly pondering the curve of his mouth when her trowel clinked against something. She paused. The winds in this part of Egypt had sifted the sands of the Sahara into fine particles and the desert held few rocks. When something “clinked” it usually meant a find. She noted where she had uncovered the item in her chart of the trench and then started sweeping away the sand. Her excitement mounted as she realized this was no mere pottery shard, but something metallic. It gleamed in the rays of the setting sun as she brushed more and more sand out of the way. It was some kind of knob or lever that jutted out of the earth by about a foot. It was a yellow metal, possibly gold.
She couldn’t resist running her hand along its smooth outline, awed at the thought that it might have been millennia since a human hand last touched
What was that? Brody was talking to her and she wasn’t paying any attention. She tuned back in to his words.
“It’s the weekend,” he said. He was wearing his usual outfit of cargo shorts and a short-sleeved shirt, but she noticed that sweat had made the hair at the nape of his neck curl. She had to physically restrain herself from reaching out and touching the little curls; she found them sexy as hell, but also kind of sweet. He was still talking. “You should have left early with the others. Get out and enjoy yourself.”
Tessa blinked. This was as close to a personal conversation as she’d ever had with Brody. “Thanks,” she said. “I’ll just finish up my section.” She pointed to the staked-off quadrant she had spent the past month excavating.
“You’ve done a good job,” Brody said, gesturing to the carefully excavated plot in front of him. “You’ve had some decent finds here. I think we’re getting close to the tomb entrance.”
Tessa’s mind whirled. He was complimenting her! She should capitalize on it, ask him if he wanted to share a drink back at the hotel. Location digs were notorious for all the people who hooked up. They were often in exotic locales far away from home, and people tended to let go of many of their inhibitions. This was her chance. She should ask him out. She should make the move. “Thanks,” she said. “I try.” That was it? That was the best she could do? What about telling him that she wanted to cover him in caramel and slowly lick it off? That she wanted to tie him to the bedposts and tease him with a feather until he begged for mercy?
Brody seemed uninterested in her insipid answer because he turned away. “I’m headed back to the hotel now if you want a lift.”
She’d love the chance to sit next to him in his Jeep, their thighs brushing with every bump in the road. Who was she kidding, though? With curly hair that tended to frizz and a skinny body with few womanly curves, she looked more like Marge Simpson than Jessica Rabbit. Brody would never be into her. She shook her head. “I’ve nearly finished documenting this trench, and I should get it done before the weekend.”
“Okay,” Brody said. “Maybe another time.”
Was it her overheated imagination or did he give her the once-over before striding off? She could have sworn he had stolen a lingering look at her breasts, but it had to be wishful thinking.
Tessa paused, enjoying the view of Brody’s long legs as he walked away from her. She sighed. She was insane to even entertain the fantasy of being with him. He had a brilliant archaeological mind and the sexiest body this side of the First Dynasty. She was just a short, pale nonentity. The only way he would ever notice her was for the excellence of her work. With that depressing thought, she turned back to the trench and picked up her tools with renewed determination.
As she carefully brushed away each layer of earth, her mind wandered back to Brody. Tessa was idly pondering the curve of his mouth when her trowel clinked against something. She paused. The winds in this part of Egypt had sifted the sands of the Sahara into fine particles and the desert held few rocks. When something “clinked” it usually meant a find. She noted where she had uncovered the item in her chart of the trench and then started sweeping away the sand. Her excitement mounted as she realized this was no mere pottery shard, but something metallic. It gleamed in the rays of the setting sun as she brushed more and more sand out of the way. It was some kind of knob or lever that jutted out of the earth by about a foot. It was a yellow metal, possibly gold.
She couldn’t resist running her hand along its smooth outline, awed at the thought that it might have been millennia since a human hand last touched
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