Читать книгу The Naughty List Bundle with The Night Before Christmas & Yule Be Mine - Fern Michaels - Страница 21

She’d asked Jonas Kirk to sleep with her. No, she’d asked Jonas Kirk—badass police detective—to give her a really good time.

Christie was 150 percent certain the man could deliver on that good time.

She watched him from the corner of her eye. He didn’t look all tough and macho right then. Well, okay, he kinda did if you looked past the red suit and beard. He was ho-hoing it up with the kids, handing out the presents that she’d organized days before.

“What was happening in that elevator?” her brother asked, and she jumped. Daniel had a tendency to sneak up on people way too much.

She forced a smile. “We were talking.”

“Right. ’Cause when you talk, you make out.”

Oh, crap.

“I know the breakup with Charles was hard on you.”

“Daniel, I—”

“I should have fired the guy, holidays or no damn holidays.”

She turned her head a bit, sizing up her brother. At just over six feet, he had a lean, wiry build. His face was open, warm, handsome. “You would never fire someone at Christmas.” Even he had limits.

“He hurt you.” His jaw flexed. “We don’t need him. I can fire him right—”

“I don’t need you to fight my battles.” Her gaze tracked back to Jonas. He was taller than her brother by a couple inches, and his shoulders were wider. His skin was darker. His eyes…She straightened her shoulders. “Charles doesn’t bother me. I’ve moved on.”

A low whistle was her answer. “I hope you’re not moving where I think you’re moving.”

She should look away from Jonas. Yes, she should. But he bent to reach into the sack again—nice butt.

“You know Jonas isn’t the committing kind.”

Her gaze snapped to Daniel.

His brows, a lighter shade than hers, rose. “Yeah, sis, I saw the hickey you left on his neck.”

Why couldn’t the floor just open up and swallow her?

“You know him, Chris. You know Jonas never stays with one woman too long.”

She’d gotten that warning before. She met her brother’s gaze. Heard Jonas’s voice rumble. Goose bumps rose on her arms. “I don’t want forever.” She’d tried to find forever before, only to get disappointed.

Daniel blinked. “Chris…”

“I’m a big girl. Trust me, I know exactly what I want.” Not what, who. Jonas. “Stop worrying about me.”

“He’s my best friend! I don’t want my sister and my—”

She patted his shoulder. “Stop worrying. And um, maybe lower your voice.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. The kids were watching them now. “We’ve got an audience.”

His teeth clicked together as he snapped his jaw closed. Turning on his heel, he marched toward the giant Christmas tree.

Christie knew her cheeks were burning again, but she made herself look at their audience. An audience that included an avid Santa hunk. When she met his stare, she swore she could feel his touch. His hands—big, strong, callused—sliding under her shirt. Edging up her stomach. Getting closer, so close to her breasts.

Oh, yes, she knew what she wanted. The question was…would she really be brave enough to take it? To take him?

She slipped away from the crowd when someone called her brother’s name. Her elbow bumped into a wall, and the pain barely registered.

Sex with Jonas. Sure, she’d fantasized about just that thing, a time or twenty.

But the real thing? Her throat dried up. Oh, jeez. It would be…

He glanced up at her, and his green eyes seemed to burn right through her.

Incredible.

Because he was a man who knew how to give a woman a good time she’d never forget.

An hour later, Jonas had emptied his second sack. All the presents were gone. The kids had vanished. The staff left at Tate Toys could only be described as skeletal. As he watched, a few more folks trailed for the elevators.

Another holiday party down.

But his job wasn’t finished. Not yet. Santa still had one wish to grant. Hmm. Where was his lady? His gaze swept the room. The last time he’d seen her, she’d been trapped against that back wall.

The spot was empty now. The tree lights twinkled, throwing a mix of colors on the wall. No Christie.

He tossed his hat and the beard down next to the bag. Had she left? Turned tail and run?

If she had, he knew where she lived. Not like he couldn’t find her.

Just in case she hadn’t fled the building, Jonas stalked down the hallway leading to the “lab”—Christie’s domain. Her office was on the right side of the hallway and her playroom, a giant workroom/lab, was on the left.

He went to the right. Didn’t bother knocking. The door was open, so he walked right in and found Christie hunched over her desk.

She looked up at him, her eyes widening. “What are you—”

He caught the doorknob and closed the door with a slow, deliberate move. The woman needs to learn not to tease.

Christie shot to her feet, and the chair rolled behind her with a groan of its wheels. “You were with the kids, you were—”

“Kids are gone.” He stalked toward her. I want a really good time. She’d known she was talking to him. She had to know. Right? “Pretty much everyone is gone but you and me.”

That pink tongue swiped over her lips, and he almost growled. Still playing with fire. Did she know how badly they could both be burned? Time to teach the woman not to play with a hungry man.

He put his hands on her desk and leaned across the heavy wood. “That good time you wanted…”

Her eyes were locked on his.

“You want it here? Now?” How far would she go? He’d caught the whispers while he was handing out the toys. Seemed Christie and her boyfriend, a dumbass named Charles, had split. A chatty chick named Lydia thought Christie was looking for some revenge sex.

He didn’t enjoy being a stand-in.

“Here?” Her voice was a squeak. Her gaze shot to the closed door, then back to him. “But you—”

“I never took you for a tease.” His hands curled, forming fists on the wood.

“I’m not!” Instead of jerking back, she leaned forward and put her face temptingly close.

“Then let’s see about that good time.” He caught her arms, pulled her even closer, and took her mouth. Because no way, no way would she still taste like—

Champagne and strawberries. Woman and lust. Everything he wanted for the holidays.

Oh, hell, trouble.

Christie’s hands dug into his shoulders, and she yanked him closer. Her mouth opened wider, and her tongue slipped right past his lips.

Not teasing.

Revenge sex.

She moaned into his mouth. Two more seconds, and he’d be over that damn desk.

But Christie pulled back. Spots of color stained her cheeks. Her breath came hard and fast.

“Change your mind?” he growled as he forced his body to back away. Either back away or lunge forward. And cops weren’t supposed to lunge at women. Well, not at innocent women.

“No.” Her fingers touched her lips. A quick, light touch. Then she skirted around the edge of the desk and came to him.

Came to him.

“I just wanted to get closer.” She was real close right then. In front of him. Caged between his body and the thick desk. “This is better.” She rose onto her toes again, reaching for him.

Jonas caught her wrists and didn’t let her touch. Not yet. “You really think you know what you’re doing?”

She flinched.

What the hell?

Her pointed chin came up fast. “Despite what you may have heard out there, yes, I’ve got a pretty good idea what I’m doing.” She tried to tug her hands free.

He didn’t let her. “Did you know who I was?” If she said yes, that would be good enough. So what if she just wanted a quick screw to punish an ex for walking? He’d take the pleasure, but she damn well needed to know who was giving her the orgasm that would come.

“What are you—”

“Did you know I was the guy playing Santa?” He’d been called in at the last minute. Daniel had originally hired another—

She laughed. Not the normal response women gave him. “Of course, I knew it was you.”

“How?”

Her voice softened as she said, “No one else has eyes like yours.” Her lips curved in a half smile, revealing the faintest hint of the dimple in her right cheek. “Do you really think I would have just crawled onto any Santa’s lap?”

She’d better not plan to be crawling on any other laps. He moved fast, and in a blink, Christie was sitting on the edge of her desk, he was between her spread thighs, and her mouth was open and ready beneath his.

Her scent surrounded him, light and feminine. Beneath the soft material of her sweater, he could feel her breasts pushing at him. Her nipples were tight, hard, and he was dying to know—would they taste like strawberries, too?

Christie’s hands shoved under his coat, and her palms touched his back. Her touch seemed red hot, scorching his flesh.

He bit her lower lip, that full lower lip that had distracted him more times than he could count. Christie Tate. The woman who’d taught him long ago that smart was so damn sexy.

The woman who’d barely seemed to know he existed, until tonight.

Good time, here we come.

He pulled back just enough to grab the bottom of her sweater, then he yanked it up and over her head. Rudolph landed in the corner and—hell.

A black lace bra cupped her breasts. Black lace surrounding pale skin. His fingers slipped beneath the thin straps, easing the bra off her shoulders. She watched him with those bedroom eyes. Watched and waited and shit, but she had beautiful breasts.

Small, but perfectly round. The nipples were dark pink, so ready for his mouth. He leaned forward and let his breath blow against her nipple.

Her palms slammed down on the desk and she arched her back. “Now who’s the tease?”

The woman had bite. He hadn’t expected that from Christie. Hadn’t expected a lot from her. His mouth was less than an inch from her breast. Taste her. Taste her. He swallowed. “How much…ah…champagne have you had tonight?” The words emerged as more growl than anything else.

But Christie must have understood because she said, “I’m not drunk, Jonas. I know exactly what I’m doing.” She paused—then said, “Do you?”

Oh, hell, no, the woman had just taunted him. “I manage.” In three minutes, he’d manage to make her come. That would be just the start of the fun he had planned.

His mouth closed over her left nipple. Her sigh filled his ears, and oh, yeah, better than strawberries.

Her hips arched against him as he licked and sucked, learning her flesh. Christie fucking Tate! Too smart, too rich, too sexy as she moaned beneath him.

Her brother had never needed to tell him to keep his hands off. He’d known she was off-limits to him for years.

Still knew it, but…screw it.

His hands grabbed the flowing material of her skirt and yanked it up.

Hands most definitely on.

“Jonas!”

His hand was on her thigh. Soft, supple skin. So close to touching her sex. All he had to do was slide his fingers under the elastic of her panties. Would her panties be black, too? A scrap of lace to match the bra?

His gaze met hers. Passion had darkened the blue of her eyes, but wait…was that fear? Was she afraid of him? Sure he’d pulled some dangerous undercover cases when he’d been busting ass in the Narcotics Division of the Charlotte PD. But he hadn’t even gone close to Christie then. He’d made a point to stay away from temptation. He’d transferred out of that department now, and…the woman had to know he wouldn’t hurt her, right?

He pressed a light kiss to her lips. “Trust me.”

A small furrow appeared between her brows. “That’s…not easy for me.”

He knew that about her, too.

Her gaze dropped to his hand.

His fingers began to slide up her thigh, pushing the skirt with the slow movement. “Tell me to stop,” he told her. One word, and he’d back off.

One word.

Christie didn’t speak.

He saw the black edge of her panties. His cock jerked; the thing was so eager for her that he ached. His hand looked too big next to her flesh. Too rough.

But he wasn’t backing off. Not unless she gave the word. His index finger eased under the edge of her underwear and touched warm, wet woman.

Fuck.

Christie wanted him as much as he wanted her. His hand caught the lace, pulling too hard, and it snapped.

The lace fell between them. “Spread your legs wider.” His gravel-rough command.

She was still looking at his hand when she moved to obey.

A light covering of midnight black hair. Pink flesh. His hands, touching her, sliding between the folds, finding the center of her need.

Her breath came faster, harder, when he stroked her. Her hips arched up when he pushed his index finger knuckle-deep inside her.

Watching. Watching.

Where the hell was the mistletoe when he wanted it? He knew just where he wanted to kiss. Just exactly where—

The door flew open, banging against the wall, and Jonas whirled around with his fists up.

“Hey, look, Christie, we really need to—” a tall, blond dumbass of a guy began.

“Get the hell out.” Jonas kept his voice lethally soft. He also kept his body in front of Christie’s.

The blond dumbass staggered to a stop. “What? Who are you—Santa?”

A choking sound came from behind Jonas.

Dumbass stepped forward even as his face flushed a dark red. “You’re making out with the guy in the Santa suit, Christie?” Shock had his voice rising.

“Doing a bit more than that,” Jonas told him, lifting a brow.

The guy looked like a fish—a blond, dumbass fish—as he tried to suck in air. “You…can’t…Christie and I are—”

“We’re not anything anymore, Charles,” Christie said, her voice too calm and far too cool for a woman who’d been burning hot in Jonas’s hands ten seconds ago. He glanced back at her. Her sweater was gone, but her skirt was in place. He shrugged out of his coat and wrapped her up, fast, before Charles could see—

Charles. Revenge sex. Shit.

This was the ex? This guy? Jonas straightened his shoulders. “You’re interrupting.” He hadn’t even gotten his three minutes.

But old Charles must have gotten some kind of second wind. Suddenly he came barreling forward, and Charles launched his fist right at Jonas.

Christie screamed. Jonas twisted to the side, did a fast dive, and caught the dumbass with a quick maneuver that took Blondie down, face-first, onto the desk.

Jonas held Charles’s hands pinned at the base of his back. The idiot kept bucking and swearing and promising to rip Jonas’s head off. Right. Like that was going to happen. “Charles, this is not your Christmas.” A deliberate pause. “Dumbass, you just assaulted a police officer.”