by Cynthia Eden
“Jonas! The kids are upstairs! Santa needs to give them their gifts!”
—been surrounded by strangers and her brother. Because Daniel was closing in on them now, his turtleneck looking a little too tight around his bobbing Adam’s apple.
Daniel skidded to a stop and threw his hand up, barely stopping the elevator doors from closing once more. “What are you doing, man? I need you! The employees always get to bring their kids in for the presents. You know this!” Daniel tossed him the Santa beard. Then his stare swept to his sister. “Christie, this is your favorite part!”
Because Christie designed most of the toys made by the company, she was usually front and center on the toy distribution.
“Uh, Daniel,” she mumbled. “I think I’m going to—”
Daniel jumped in the elevator. “Catch the next one!” Daniel advised the folks in the lobby. He punched the button for the third floor. “I had to chase you both down three flights of stairs.” The doors slid closed. “Three flights.” He seemed to be breathing a little hard. “Let’s just get back up there and make this a merry damn night, okay?”
Jonas glanced at Christie. Her cheeks were flushed. Her lips red and plump. Her breathing was coming fast like her brother’s, but it wasn’t because she’d raced down three flights of stairs.
A smile curved Jonas’s lips. Her gaze darted to meet his.
At that moment, the elevator music kicked in and Elvis began to sing. Jonas didn’t take his eyes off Christie. Not for a moment.
When she’d first come toward him upstairs, he’d been drinking her in. Her steps had been uncertain. Her posture hesitant. He’d wanted to put her at ease.
I’m sure I have something in here for a good girl like you.
Those words hadn’t put her at ease. They’d seemed to unleash something inside of her. It definitely looked like Christie Tate had a naughty side.
He couldn’t wait to see what other surprises she’d been keeping from him.
Chapter Two
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 currently look all tough and kick-ass. Well, okay, he kinda did if you looked past the red suit and beard. He was ho-hoing it up with the kids as he handed 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, no.
“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 so that she could better size up her brother. At just over six feet, he had a lean, wiry build. His face was open, warm, and 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 body stronger. She exhaled slowly. “Charles doesn’t bother me. I’ve moved on.”
A low whistle was his response. “I hope you’re not moving where I think you’re moving.”
She should look away from Jonas. Yes, she should. 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.”
She’d left a hickey on him? Why, oh, 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 held her brother’s gaze. Heard Jonas’s voice rumble as he talked to a little girl. Goose bumps rose on Christie’s 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, Daniel 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. She could feel his hands—big, strong, callused—sliding against her skin. 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. Her elbow bumped into a wall, and the pain barely registered. Sex with Jonas. Sure, she’d fantasized about just that very thing, over and over again.
But the real thing? Her throat dried up. Oh, jeez. It would be…She peeked back at him. Jonas was watching her. His green eyes seemed to burn. Sex with Jonas would be—
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, Christie had 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, though, Jonas stalked down the hallway leading to the area known as Christie’s domain. Her office was on the right side of the hallway and her lab—a giant workroom/toy construction zone—was on the left.
He went to the right. Didn’t bother knocking. The door was open, so he walked 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 must have known. Right? No way she would have said those words to another man. I sure as hell hope she wouldn’t. “Pretty much everyone is gone but you and me.”
Her small, pink tongue swiped over her lips, and he almost growled. Still playing with fire. Did she know how badly they could both be burned?
He put his hands on her desk and leaned across the heavy wood. “That good time you wanted…”
Her wide 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. It seemed Christie and her boyfriend, a dumbass called Charles, had split. A chatty chick named Lydia thought Christie was looking
for some revenge sex.
He didn’t enjoy being a stand-in. But he sure had dreamed about having sex with Christie. So many times. Am I that desperate for her? So desperate that he’d be a tool for revenge?
Um, maybe. Definite maybe. Or…just yes.
“Here?” Her voice was a squeak. Her gaze flew to the closed door, then back to him. “But you—”
“You didn’t mean what you said?” His hands curled, forming fists on the wood. “You were just messing with me? Or maybe you thought you were just jerking around some random Santa—”
“I was not messing with you!” Instead of jerking back, she leaned forward and put her face temptingly close. “I knew exactly what I was saying—and I knew I was saying those words to you!”
Good. Excellent to know. “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. Her mouth opened wider, and her tongue slipped right past his lips.
Revenge sex. Those stupid words whispered through his mind.
She moaned into his mouth. Two more seconds, and Jonas knew that he’d be over that desk. He wanted her so badly that nothing else mattered. Yeah, she could use him for revenge sex. Totally cool. She could—
But Christie pulled back. Spots of color stained her cheeks. Her breath came hard and fast.
“Change your mind?” Jonas rasped as he forced his body to back away. Either back away or lunge forward. He was trying to keep his control and not lunge.
“No.” Her fingers touched her lips. A quick, light touch. Then she skirted around the edge of the desk and came to him.
His heart stopped.
“I didn’t change my mind. I just wanted to get closer.”
She was real close. In front of him. Caged between his body and the thick desk.
“This is better.” She rose onto her toes again and reached for him.
Jonas caught her wrists. They felt so fragile beneath his fingers. He could feel her pulse racing along her inner wrist. “You really think you know what you’re doing?”
She flinched.
What the hell? Had he just hurt her? He hadn’t meant to do that. He would never, ever want to hurt Christie. He’d just wanted to make certain she was sure about the big step they were taking—
Her chin came up. “Despite what you may have heard out there, yes, I’ve got a pretty good idea about what I’m doing.” She tried to tug her hands free.
He didn’t let her go. “How did you know it was me in the Santa suit?” He’d been called in at the last minute. Daniel had originally hired another—
She laughed. “I’d know you anywhere.”
“How?”
Her voice softened as she explained, “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 honestly 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 eager beneath his.
Her scent surrounded him, light and feminine. Beneath the soft material of her holiday 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 skin.
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 very sexy.
The woman who’d barely seemed to know he existed, until tonight.
Good time, here we come. If that was what Christie wanted for Christmas, he’d make sure she had the best time of her entire life.
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 and eased the bra off her shoulders. She watched him with her bedroom eyes. Watched and waited and damn, she had beautiful breasts.
Small, but perfectly round. The nipples were dark pink. So ready for his mouth. He leaned forward. Taste her. Taste her. Once they crossed this line, he would never want to go back to just being friends with her.
She has to be certain. “How much…ah…champagne have you had tonight?” The words emerged as more rumble 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 asked, voice crisp, “Do you?”
Surprise rolled through him. Christie had just taunted him—challenged him. He was more than ready for that challenge. “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 moan filled his ears, and oh, yeah, she tasted better than strawberries.
Her hips arched against him as he licked and sucked. Christie fucking Tate! Too smart, too rich, too sexy as she moaned beneath him. Her brother had never needed to tell Jonas to keep his hands off Christie. He’d known she was off-limits to him for years.
Jonas still knew, 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 back in those days. 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? Never in a million years would he hurt Christie. She was far too important and precious to him.
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. 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. Her breath came faster and harder as Jonas 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 needed it? He knew just where he wanted to kiss. Just exactly where—
The door flew open, banging against the wall, and Jonas whirled around. His first instinct was to shield her. To cover her. No one else could see Christie this way and if someone was trying to—
A tall, blond dumbass of a guy stumbled inside. “
Hey, look, Christie, we really need to—”
“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.
The dumbass stepped forward even as his face flushed a dark red. “Christie! You’re making out with the guy in the Santa suit?” Shock had his voice rising.
“Doing a bit more than that,” Jonas told him. His voice didn’t rise. Stayed soft. Lethal. Jonas lifted a brow as he studied the intruder.
The dude 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 interrupted, 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 before Charles could see—
Charles. The name clicked. Revenge sex. Hell.
This was the ex? This tool? Jonas straightened his shoulders and faced off against his new sworn enemy. “You’re interrupting.” Jonas 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 at Jonas.
Christie screamed. Jonas twisted to the side, did a fast dive, and caught the dumbass with a quick maneuver that took Charles 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.”
Chapter Three
Charles froze. The guy had finally realized he was screwed to hell and back. Good for him.
“Jonas.” Christie’s breathy voice filled his ears.
