A Dangerously Sexy Christmas Read online

  He sat on the couch, still in his T-shirt and jeans but barefoot. His shaggy brown hair stuck up in all directions. Something poked out from under one of the throw cushions. Was that his pistol?

  “I can’t sleep.” She walked over to the couch and dropped down next to him. “I figured you might want some company.”

  “Two minutes ago you thought I was sleeping.” The light filtering in from the bedroom cast shadows across his face, making the angle of his jaw seem even sharper and more devastating.

  “But you’re not. So we can talk.”

  “I don’t want to talk.”

  “Men never want to talk. But I can talk at you until you talk back.” She grinned at his exasperated sigh.

  “You always get what you want, don’t you?”

  The answer to that question used to be a resounding no, since all she’d wanted growing up was a normal life with a normal family. She wanted parents who loved her and loved one another. But she’d never got that, and eventually she’d realized that love and trust were about as real as Santa Claus.

  Then she’d focused on wanting sex and her nos changed to yeses.

  “I always go after what I want,” she said carefully. “And right now I want to talk to you. Or is that not in your job description?”

  He paused and a hint of a smile passed over his lips, but he shifted on the couch and made space for her.

  “Why did you come to New York?” she asked, watching his face carefully.

  “Next question.”

  “That was supposed to be my easy lead-in question.”

  He grimaced. “Unfortunately it doesn’t have an easy answer. Let’s just say I’m here for work.”

  Tension radiated from him. Once more his lips were set in a hard line, his gaze focused on something she couldn’t see. Something she didn’t want to see from the pain that flashed across his eyes.

  “What do you do for fun? I know I asked that one before, but you didn’t answer me.”

  “I run.”

  “Exercise isn’t fun. Everybody knows that.” She rolled her eyes and gave him a light shove. His biceps were rock-hard and the playful touch felt illicit.

  “And what do you do for fun, Rose?”

  “I watch movies,” she said. “Action movies specifically. Guns, explosions. Vintage Arnie.”

  He turned to her, his brow raised. “I would never have taken you for an action-movie fan.”

  “Why? Because I’m a girl?” She rolled her eyes. “I drink whiskey, too. Are you shocked?”

  “I pegged you for a thriller or mystery buff.” A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “You seem like the type who’d prefer to figure out the solution to a problem than watch the good guy save the world.”

  His assessment made her smile, so she didn’t give him a hard time about it. “I like playing cards, too,” she added.

  “I used to play cards with my father,” Max replied.

  “I thought you didn’t gamble.”

  “We didn’t, not really.” For a moment his eyes drifted, a far-off look softening his features. “My mother had a box of old one-and two-cent coins that we’d use to buy-in. Winner got their choice of dessert.”

  “Do you miss your parents?”

  “Yes.”

  Something about his tone stopped her from pressing further. Perhaps it was because she empathized with missing family. Though for her it was more that she missed the family she’d had before her parents had grown to hate one another.

  “Did you really come out here to ask me about my family?”

  “No.” She tilted her head and fiddled with the belt of her robe. “But I get the impression that you don’t have many people to talk to.”

  “Why? Because I’m a man?”

  “Touché.” A soft laugh escaped her lips. “You’re running away from something in Australia. You got all sad when you mentioned your family, and you haven’t exactly called anyone here to let them know you’re not coming home tonight.”

  He swallowed, the bob of his Adam’s apple catching her attention. He pushed a hand through his hair, thrusting the overlong strands back and rubbing at the nape of his neck. She wanted those hands on her, wanted to know if they were as strong and skilled as she suspected.

  “And you didn’t call anyone to reassure her that spending the night in a hotel with a woman is strictly business.”

  “It is strictly business,” he said, looking into the black depths of the hotel room.

  “It doesn’t have to be.”

  “I should recommend that Cobalt & Dane hire you,” he joked. “You’re quite the investigator.”

  “Just observant.” She shrugged. “I learned to read people early on. It’s kind of a necessity when you’re around bad-tempered people.”

  He frowned. “Who had a bad temper?”

  “My dad.” She squared her jaw, refusing to let him see her sadness. “I learned to pick up the signs if he’d had a bad day at work. Then I steered clear.”

  “Smart girl.”

  * * *

  A STRANGE FEELING clutched at Max’s chest as Rose sat there, her face ethereal in the light pouring in from the bedroom. He’d judged her this morning, labeled her. He’d been happy to stereotype her and move on.

  That wasn’t like him at all. At one point he’d been an advocate for treating people fairly, without presumption. Now he was just as bad as those jaded cops he hated, the ones who gave all officers a bad name. Max swallowed, guilt seeping through him like a toxin.

  “No one’s ever called me smart before,” she said grudgingly.

  Without makeup she looked younger, more vulnerable. The bruise had deepened on her cheek, marring her otherwise perfect skin. The intruder had been able to hurt her because Max hadn’t kept her in his line of sight. He vowed then to never let that happen again.

  “I’m not trying to win your sympathy,” she continued, narrowing her eyes at him as if warning him not to be kind to her. “It’s a fact.”

  “I believe you.”

  “I think we’re more alike than you first assumed.” She shifted on the couch and moved closer to him.

  Her robe loosened, revealing a triangle of pale skin across her décolletage. The fluffy white fabric hugged the slope of her breasts, revealing the barest hint of creamy cleavage. The delicate bumps of her collar bone were exaggerated by the angle of the light; the slender length of her neck was exposed beneath her short hair.

  “Do you?”

  She nodded. “I think we’re two people who’ve been screwed over, who have to fend for ourselves. We don’t trust easily.”

  “Are you sure you’re not a detective?”

  Her words stirred something deep in his gut, a feeling that he’d packed down. Buried. Almost forgotten.

  “Positive.”

  “Who screwed you over?” This could be the perp. You’re not asking because you care.

  “Next question,” she said with a sad smile.

  “It could be helpful for the case, Rose. If there’s someone who might want to harm you...” He reached out and touched her arm.

  The minute his hand connected with the robe he knew he’d made a mistake. She moved forward, her face coming closer to his. Her breath was warm on his ear, the scent of her perfume soft and gentle in the air, mingling with the scent of mint on her lips. Desire rocketed through him, unleashing the force of months of loneliness. “You won’t hurt me.” A statement, a demand.

  “I’m here to protect you.” He choked the words out, the onslaught of arousal clouding his mind.

  She cupped the side of his jaw and turned it until they were face to face, her thumb stroking his lips. “I want you to do more than protect me.”

  He shook his head to dislodge the voice screaming ye
s! “It’s my job to ensure your safety. That’s it.”

  “You’re not on the clock now.” Her other hand found its way to his thigh.

  God, he was so hard. His cock strained against the zipper of his jeans, creating a solid ridge beneath the denim. If she brushed her hand just a little higher...

  It had been so long since he’d had sex...months. Since he’d walked away from his job, his family and his fiancée, women had been few and far between. A one-night stand every so often, one fling that had lasted a week. No emotional involvement, no commitment, no expectations.

  That was all he could fit into his life. Hell, it was all he could fit into his mind.

  “Let’s distract ourselves.” She pressed her lips to his jaw.

  Need ran through him, lighting up his body like a Christmas tree. “Rose,” he growled.

  Her hands went straight to the knotted belt of her robe. The fabric parted to reveal paradise. Pale skin stretched out in sloping curves, the rise and fall of her breasts giving way to a smooth stomach, rounded hips and slender legs.

  A scrap of pale lace covered her breasts, but did nothing to hide their beauty. Her nipples pressed through the fabric and he fought the urge to take one into his mouth.

  “We need to deal with this sexual tension. It’s going to get in the way if we don’t.”

  “What tension?” Had he been that obvious?

  “I see the way you’ve been looking at me, Max.” She pushed up and straddled him. “You want me.”

  Her thighs pinned him down, and it was all he could do not to buck up against her. She draped her arms over the back of the couch on either side of his head, her breasts inches from his mouth.

  “I’m supposed to be working.” He tilted his face up to hers.

  She lowered down onto his erection. The heat of her sex made him groan, the anguished sound echoing in the quiet hotel room. She had him.

  “Tell me you don’t want this.” She rolled her hips gently against his, increasing the pressure just enough to make spots dance in his vision. “I can feel that you want it.”

  He knew it was wrong; it was totally against company policy to sleep with the client.

  She’s not the client. What his bosses don’t know won’t hurt them...

  “I want you, Max.” Her eyes were wide, blackened with arousal.

  At the sound of his name on her lips his control shattered like glass against concrete. “I’m still not going to read you that bedtime story.”

  “I can read on my own.” She reached for the hem of his T-shirt and tugged upward. “Or maybe I can read to you.”

  He grabbed her by the hips, pressing her harder against him, grinding his erection against her heat. She fell forward, her lips coming down on the base of his neck. Teeth scraped as she worked her mouth up to his jaw, her hands under his T-shirt.

  Heat consumed him as he slanted his mouth over hers, his tongue pushing between her lips and claiming her. He ran his hands up her arms, slipped them under the robe and pushed it from her shoulders. Without the extra fabric she felt small in his grip, his arm easily encircling her small waist and holding her tightly against him.

  She rocked her hips, pushing him closer to the edge. Yanking the T-shirt over his head, she gasped as he moved his hand between them, pressing his thumb against her center through the lace of her thong.

  “I want you,” she repeated, shoving his hands aside to get to his belt. “I need you inside me. Now.”

  “Damn,” he muttered as she wrenched the buckle and zipper open. Her hand found him hard and throbbing.

  “No underwear?” A cheeky grin spread over her face and she laughed. “I like it.”

  “It’s laundry day.” He pressed his lips to her neck as she stroked the length of him, pausing to squeeze the tip before sliding her hand back down. “God, Rose.”

  “Inside me,” she whispered into his ear. “Now.”

  Growling, he hauled her off his lap and flipped her over so that she faced the back of the couch. He yanked down his jeans and fished out his wallet, praying his emergency condom would still be in there.

  His fingers found the foil packet and he said a silent thank you to the sex gods. He sheathed himself and kicked off his jeans. A gasp escaped Rose’s lips as he stood behind her, trailing his hand down her spine and following his fingers with a line of hot, openmouthed kisses. Her back arched, thrusting her sweet ass against his crotch.

  “Slowly,” he commanded.

  He flicked the clasp of her bra, undoing it so that his hands could reach around her and palm her wonderfully full breasts. Heat radiated from her as he pressed his chest to her back, his cock digging into her thigh. The sound of their heavy breathing filled the air, her occasional gasp sending a jolt of excitement through him. Her nipples pebbled against his palms and he tugged on them, gently at first and then harder when she urged him on.

  “Please,” she begged.

  “Ladies first.” He slid one hand down her stomach and found the hem of her thong.

  Not being able to see her face, he was forced to listen for her cues, to feel her reactions instead of relying on his eyes. He slipped a hand down her panties and found the tight bud of her clitoris, slick with arousal.

  “You’re such a gentleman,” she quipped pressing against his hand with a sharp moan.

  He circled her, dipping his fingers inside her and then pulling back out. She moved against him, whimpering each time his fingers left her, her nails digging into his thighs. Controlling her orgasm, knowing he was in charge of her pleasure made him even hotter, even harder.

  When she shattered, he pressed his mouth down on her shoulder, scraping his teeth against the skin while she shouted his name. He couldn’t wait any longer. As she rode the last waves of her orgasm, he tore her panties to the side and pushed into her with a long, hard thrust. Tightness and heat enveloped him, fogging his mind and stealing his breath.

  He wound his arms around her waist and thrust into her over and over. She braced herself against the back of the couch, her hips bucking to meet him stroke for stroke. Sweat beaded on her skin, dampening him as he pressed against her. The heady scent of sex filled his nostrils, pushing him closer to nirvana.

  “Harder, Max.” She turned so that her cheek pressed against his face. “Don’t hold back.”

  Heat colored her cheeks and her full lips parted. Brushing a damp strand of dark hair from her forehead, he kissed the shell of her ear. As his orgasm slammed into him, he pressed her hard against the back of the couch, relishing the skin-to-skin contact.

  Silence engulfed them, the echoes of their pleasure reverberating in his mind. Rose stilled beneath him, falling back so that he supported her weight completely. Sighing contentedly, she lolled her head against his chest.

  “See,” she said, her breathing labored. “No more tension.”

  He didn’t believe her.

  He eased her down onto the couch, her legs dangling off the edge, before he jumped up to dispose of the condom. When he came back to her, he gathered her in his arms and they stretched out on the couch together.

  She turned, half curled into his side, half draped across him. Her breasts pressed into his rib cage and her hand traced a swirling pattern in the hairs that dusted the tops of his thighs.

  “I guess I was right when I said you always get what you want,” he said.

  Guilt swirled in the edge of his consciousness as reality dawned that he’d broken the rules with her. But the total satisfaction that fatigued his body overrode the rule follower within him.

  Rose made him feel freaking incredible.

  “I’m a persistent woman.” She tilted her head to look up at him. “But you wanted this as much as I did. Don’t try to deny it.”

  “If I didn’t want it, it wouldn’t have happened.” His ha
nd ran over the curve of her hip. “I do have some control.”

  “I get the impression you have too much control.” Her eyes assessed him, and it was as if she could peer straight into him and read the pain etched on his soul.

  He didn’t like it one damned bit.

  “Want to test that theory?” he asked, moving his hand up to cup her breast, weighing it in his palm.

  Since he’d already broken the rules tonight, how could it hurt to take full advantage of the situation? He’d be good tomorrow.

  She shivered as he brushed a thumb over her nipple. “Is that your way of asking for round two?”

  A throaty hum of pleasure filled the room as he pressed his lips to the spot between her neck and her shoulder, continuing to tease her nipple with his thumb. Redness marred her skin where his stubble had chafed against her. The sight filled him with a primal desire, and he hardened.

  Her hand traced his cock from root to tip, squeezed him. Pleasure blinded him for a split second.

  “As much as I would love to continue, there’s a slight problem,” he said, unable to stop his hips from pressing forward into her hand.

  “What’s that?”

  “We’re out of condoms.”

  A cheeky smile passed over her lips. “Luckily you’re not the only one who came prepared.”

  She reached down to the puddle of white fluff on the floor and fished around in the robe’s pocket. A flash of silver caught the light as she produced the foil packet and tore it open without hesitation.

  Thank. God.

  “You’re a regular Girl Scout,” he said, allowing his eyes to shut as she rolled the condom down onto him, slowly and deliberately.

  She straddled him, easing herself down onto his cock and pulling his hands up to her hips.

  “I might be prepared—” she placed her hands on his chest and lowered herself until her lips came to rest by his ear “—but a Girl Scout I am not.”

  Turning his head to capture her mouth, he wrapped his arms around her and forced the last sliver of space to close between them. Skin to skin, they were fused from the mouth down. Her weight pressed him gently into the couch, her thighs locked against his hips. Holding him in place. Controlling their rhythm.