The Naughty List Bundle with The Night Before Christmas & Yule Be Mine. Fern Michaels
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.