The Naughty List

by Donna Kauffman

  He bit lightly on her neck, and when her hips arched, he let his index finger dip inside her.

  She shuddered beneath him. Fuck yes.

  But…not yet. He pulled his hand away from her and kissed his way down her body. Jonas took his time with her breasts, licking and sucking those dark tips. He loved the feel of her nipples on his tongue. The taste—still strawberries—still driving him crazy.

  Her thighs lifted and squeezed him. “I can’t—more!”

  He’d give her more. He’d give her everything she could handle and everything she couldn’t.

  The curve of her stomach tempted his mouth. When his lips pressed just under her belly button, she gasped his name. Another spot. A weakness for her, a temptation for him. He bit her, then sucked the flesh. Jonas marked the area, and she trembled beneath him, as her hands rose to clutch his shoulders.

  His head lowered more. He licked down her abdomen and let his breath blow against that lace.

  “J-Jonas…” Sweat beaded his brow as he looked up at her. Lust and need burned in her eyes. “Jonas, I want you to—”

  Taste me.

  The words hung in the air between them. But she bit her lips and her gaze dropped.

  He blew against the lace once more. Her hips lifted helplessly. “You want me to touch you again?”

  A jerky nod.

  His fingers caressed her through the lace. He traced lightly over her sex, feeling the material dampen. Christie was ready for him, and he was insane for her.

  He lowered his mouth to that lace. Jonas kissed her through the fabric and felt her body go bow tight. It wouldn’t take much to push her into a climax. Not much at all.

  His fingers pulled on the lace. His control slipped away, breaking from him as her scent teased him and—

  And the lace ripped.

  “Buy you more,” he promised as he tossed the scraps aside. He put his mouth right on her and tasted her flesh like he’d wanted. When his tongue pressed against the center of her need, Christie came, shuddering beneath him as she whispered his name on a long, hard sigh.

  But he didn’t stop. Wasn’t close to stopping. He tasted and he took and when she came against his mouth a second time, he felt the trembles of her orgasm.

  He pushed away from her. The drum of his heartbeat filled his ears. It took two seconds to ditch his jeans. Two more to slide on his condom and then he was plunging into her. Driving as deep as he could go. The ripples of her release teased his cock, and he drove into her, faster, harder.

  His hands caught hers. Their fingers threaded together. Their eyes locked.

  Thrust.

  So blue. So dark. Her eyes held his. Wild with lust.

  The tree lights glittered down on them. Shining.

  Thrust.

  Her legs were around his hips, holding so tight. Her ankles pressed against him, and she met him, thrust for thrust. He drove into her, deeper, harder.

  “Jonas!”

  He climaxed with her—and it was fucking incredible.

  Eventually, they made it to her bed. Had sex again. Slow and tender this time. Christie was pretty sure there wasn’t an inch of her body that Jonas hadn’t kissed.

  She felt so good. No, better than good. Better than she’d ever felt.

  “You sure know how to deliver on a promise,” she murmured as her hand trailed down the muscular expanse of his chest.

  His eyes opened, and he turned his head toward her.

  “That was definitely the best sex I’ve had,” she told him.

  His lips parted, but she leaned forward, fast, and kissed him. Don’t tell me any lies. Don’t tell me I’m the best. Don’t.

  Jonas wasn’t like her. Sheltered didn’t enter his vocabulary. She knew the guy had been with more sexual partners than she had. She didn’t want to hear lies from him, not now, not ever.

  “Another rule for us,” she whispered as she pulled back and smiled at him. Christie smiled so he wouldn’t see that it mattered to her. “No lies, okay?” She’d had plenty of those from her other lovers.

  From Benjamin, her first lover. He’d sworn he loved her, but really just loved her family’s money. Yes, she’d found out about that. Thanks to Jonas. When Ben had started talking about an engagement, Daniel had used Jonas to dig up background information on the guy. It hadn’t taken long before they found out about Ben’s debts. When her dad had offered Ben ten grand to walk…the guy had run.

  And now the dust was still settling from Charles. Another lover who’d lied. Another mistake.

  “I’ve never lied to you.” Jonas’s deep voice rumbled beside her.

  No, he hadn’t.

  “Then let’s not start.” Her hand stilled on his chest. “I don’t want you to promise me forever.” Ben had done that. Forever had lasted two months. “I don’t want you to tell me I’m the love of your life.” Ronnie had done that. He’d told her she was great. Wonderful. They’d had sex—the sex that had just been…bad. The great love affair had ended fast. “I don’t want to hear all the pretty lies that men can use.”

  His hand caught hers. “Didn’t realize you were so cynical, Christie.”

  She laughed at that. “I didn’t realize I was, either.”

  He brought her hand to his lips. “Then let’s go ahead and clear the air.”

  Her brows rose.

  “I’m not sleeping with you because I want a slice of that Tate money.” He bit the pad of her palm. “Yeah, I remember that dick Ben. He thought he’d hit pay dirt when he found you in college.”

  Had she really been so naive? No. But it hadn’t been college, she’d been in grad school then. “I never agreed to marry him.” She hadn’t loved him. Even then, she’d—

  “I didn’t want him using you. I know it pissed you off the way that scene went down.” Another bite, then a lick of his tongue. “Daniel and I wanted you safe.”

  “And here I didn’t think you’d ever cared.” She tried to sound flippant.

  His hold tightened on her hand. “There’s a lot you don’t know.” His breath feathered over her hand. “When I’m with you, I’m with you. There’s no one else for me.” He paused. “Or for you. I’m not the sharing kind.”

  “Neither am I.” But how long would they have together? Just how long would her wish last?

  “This holiday is mine,” he told her, and he leaned forward, catching the back of her head. “You made your wish, and this year, you’ll get it—me—as many times as you can handle.”

  His lips were so close to hers. “I-I think I can handle quite a lot.” Everything.

  This holiday. She’d take him, she’d take the pleasure he gave, and when the new year came…well, she’d deal with that then.

  Now, she’d deal with the big, bad, sexy detective in her bed. Christie parted her lips and kissed her Santa Claus.

  The beeping woke her hours later. A long, steady pulse of sound. She threw out her hand, reaching for her alarm clock, and her hand hit warm, male flesh.

  “It’s mine,” a deep voice growled.

  Her eyes flew open and she saw a dark shadow pull away from her and rise from the bed.

  Wh—Jonas. Sex. Pleasure.

  She blinked a few times, fast. Those first few moments after waking were always a little fuzzy for her.

  But—what was his? What was—

  “North and Byron. Right. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” His voice didn’t sound so sleepy. He seemed completely awake. Aware. Distant. She squinted as she tried to force her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Jonas was on a phone. That’s what the buzzing had been—his phone ringing.

  She sat up in bed and pulled the covers to her chest. A glance at the alarm clock told her it was only a little past four a.m.

  Callused fingertips brushed her cheek. “I have to go.”

  She jerked a bit, surprised to find him so close.

  His hand dropped.

  She reached out at once, fumbling in the darkness. “What’s happened?”

  “Baby,
you don’t want to know.”

  She found his hand and held tight. “I told you. I’m not some princess in a castle. I can handle your life.”

  He exhaled, the sound a rough sigh that drifted to her. “A man shot his wife and turned the gun on himself. They need me at the scene ASAP.” He pulled away from her and she missed him instantly. “You know I transferred to homicide.”

  No more undercover missions for him. Daniel had told her that. But…still blood and death.

  Clothes rustled. He was dressing. He’d be leaving soon. She jumped from the bed and rammed her thigh into the nightstand that she’d known was there. “Wait!” She scrambled, dragging the sheet with her and caught him at the bedroom door.

  “I have to go, it’s my job. You know—”

  “Come back when your work’s done.” The words slipped out. She didn’t want him going back home alone after this case. His voice had been too cold when he told her about the crime. Too emotionless. It wasn’t a crime that didn’t matter to him. No, this one would matter too much.

  Jonas kept saying he knew more about her than she realized. She knew a heck of a lot more about him, too. Far more than he suspected.

  She flipped on the lights and saw his face. The tight lines, the hard mask. “Come back to me when your work’s done,” she said again. “I’ll be here. I don’t care what time it is.” Come back to me.

  “I have to secure the scene, talk to witnesses. I have to—”

  “I don’t care how long it takes. I’ll be here.”

  He kissed her then. Too fast, too hard, and she knew he had to go. Christie followed him to the garage door. He’d pulled his car inside earlier.

  She watched him leave. When the garage door opened, she saw that it had started to snow again. Soft, drifting snowflakes floated in the air.

  She pulled the sheet tighter around her body and felt the chill seep into her bones.

  A man shot his wife and turned the gun on himself. A horrible crime. So terrible. So brutal.

  And…it was Jonas’s worst nightmare. She knew it. After he’d dug into Benjamin’s past, she’d wanted a little vengeance. So she’d dug into Jonas’s life. She’d found out his life wasn’t nearly as perfect as she’d thought.

  Not even close.

  When Jonas had been sixteen, he’d come home to find his mother’s dead body. She’d been killed by a man she knew and loved—Jonas’s father.

  “Come back to me,” Christie whispered, but Jonas was already gone.

  He didn’t come back. Christie stared at the clock on her bedside once more. Ten p.m. There’d been no call, though she really hadn’t expected that. No call…and no sign of Jonas as the hours had slipped by.

  She should go to bed. Okay, she was in bed, but she should go to sleep. Stop thinking about him. Stop worrying.

  But she’d seen a picture of him years before when she’d done her vengeance digging. A grainy photo of him at his parents’ funeral.

  He’d been alone then.

  She shoved back the covers. She’d be damned if she left him alone now. She wouldn’t—

  Something thudded against her front door. Her heart raced even as she jumped to her feet. Thudded? No, wait that was knocking—pounding—at her door.

  Christie ran down the hallway. She almost fell when her socks slid across the foyer floor. But she made it to the door and pressed her eye to the peephole. The porch light fell across Jonas’s stark face.

  She wrenched open the door as fast as she could.

  No present waited in his hands this time. No smile lit his face. He stared at her with glittering eyes. The snow had turned into icy rain, pelting down behind him. She grabbed his hand. “Come in, Jonas! Hurry!”

  He let her pull him across the threshold. “It’s late. I shouldn’t be here.”

  “This is exactly where you should be.” She shoved off his coat. He’d changed shirts, jeans.

  His gaze dropped. “I stopped at my place, I should have”—his hands flexed, balling into fists—“should have just stayed there. You don’t need to—”

  “I need you.” More than she’d realized. So much more.

  His hands caught hers and held too tight.

  “Jonas.” Her chest hurt. “It’s okay, I know—”

  He kissed her. Not the sexy, hungry kisses he’d given her before. The kisses that teased and tormented and made her want more. Things were different. He was different.

  The kiss was rough, demanding. His tongue drove into her mouth even as he lifted her into his arms. The bite of his fingers stung her arms, but she didn’t stop him. She wrapped her arms around him and held on as tight as she could, her grip as fierce as his.

  They made it to the bedroom. He tossed her on the bed and stripped while watching her with his too-bright stare.

  She didn’t wait for him to touch her. Christie yanked off her T-shirt and shimmied out of her shorts and panties.

  He grabbed her ankle, pulling her to the edge of the bed.

  “Can’t wait this time.” There was a dangerous edge to the words. Tension held his body tight. A muscle flexed in his jaw. “Can’t wait.”

  She parted her thighs wider for him. “I don’t want you to wait.” She’d told him before that slow and easy wasn’t what she needed from him. “I just want you.”

  “Careful what you wish for,” he muttered. He had a condom on already. She hadn’t even seen him pull out the packet.

  He plunged into her, slamming balls-deep in a thrust that stole her breath. She’d said she could handle it, handle him, but she hadn’t realized…

  Her hands pushed against his shoulders.

  Jonas froze. His gaze held hers. Rage boiled in his stare. Lust.

  Fear?

  “Christie…”

  She rolled her hips beneath him as she tried to find a better position. Then his hand was stroking her, pressing in just the right spot. His mouth went to her neck, and when his tongue licked her beneath her ear, a moan slipped past her lips and the tension eased away from her body.

  This was Jonas. She could trust him. He’d keep her safe. Give her pleasure, always.

  He withdrew. Thrust deep again. Still hard, still wild, but she was ready for him. Her hands held tight to his shoulders. The bed shook beneath them. The headboard banged into the wall.

  More. Harder. Deeper.

  His teeth pressed lightly against her throat. His hands caught her legs, and he lifted them high, even as he drove into her. Again and again.

  The orgasm hit her, sweeping over her on a fierce wave of pleasure that had her tensing and digging her fingers into his flesh. His head shot up and he stared down at her with eyes that blazed too bright.

  Too much lust. Too much need.

  “Christie…” He took her mouth. Kissed her as he came.

  She held him as close as she could and felt the frantic, thudding beat of her heart.

  Her heart…or his?

  In the aftermath, they didn’t speak. He pulled away from her, when she wanted to hold him close. But they were just about sex, right? Not emotions. Just sex.

  So why was she blinking back tears when he withdrew from her? Why was she swiping those teardrops away as fast as she could while he was in the bathroom?

  She pressed her damp hand against the bed, trying to wipe away the evidence, and she hurriedly slipped under the covers. The sex had been intense. Almost too intense. The climax had hit her when she hadn’t expected that much pleasure. It had dug through her, hollowing out her body until she felt like only a thin shell remained.

  The lights clicked off, and the room plunged into darkness. She was grateful for the darkness then. It was so easy to hide in the shadows.

  Was that why Jonas had turned off the lights?

  The bed dipped when he climbed in beside her. She wanted to roll toward him, but—yes, dammit—fear held her back.

  He reached for her instead, smoothing his fingers down her arm. “Did I hurt you?”

  What? “No, of course n
ot!”

  “I was rough, I shouldn’t have—”

  She rolled toward Jonas and grabbed him. “You didn’t break me. You didn’t even bruise me.” But she might have bruised him. There at the end, she’d held on as tightly as she could.

  His hand broke from hers, and his fingers traced her cheek. Her breath caught. No, don’t let him feel—

  “Were you crying?” His voice was gruff. “Jesus, Christie, I did hurt you!”

  “Has anything ever felt so good,” she asked him slowly, “that it made you cry?” The pleasure had been that intense. So intense she hadn’t wanted it to end. She’d just wanted more.

  “There haven’t been a lot of good things in my life lately,” he told her. His lips pressed against her cheeks as he kissed away the tear tracks. “Not until now,” he murmured, and her breath caught.

  No, no, he couldn’t mean what she thought. Just sex. “I was worried about you.” It seemed safe to make the confession in the dark.

  Silence. Tension hummed in the air. “No need, baby. It’s my job. I take down killers every day.”

  But not killers that hit so close to home. Suddenly, she wanted to break through his shell and force him to open up to her. “I know what happened.”

  “Yeah”—he slid away from her—“an asshole high on drugs shot his wife and then turned the gun on himself when the cops showed up. A wasted—”

  “I don’t mean today.” Her tongue felt too thick in her mouth, and her heart still beat too fast. “I mean…b-before…with y-your parents.” Of course, the stutter would be back. No way to hide her nerves.

  The silence was painful. Then he rolled away, fast, and light exploded in the room when he hit the lamp.

  He stared down at her, naked, eyes narrowed. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Good thing she’d already pulled up the sheet. “I-I know what happened to your family.” And how hard today must have been. So hard that when you came back—

  “How?” he bit out.

  Ah, now this part was dicey. “Jonas—”

  “Did you call Daniel when I left? Did he tell you that shit about—”

  “I’ve never talked to Daniel about this.” She took a breath, a deep one. No stutter.

  “Then how did you find out? Who’ve you been talking to?”