think he was seeing Vicki while they were together.
Her back teeth clenched. So tired of playing this game. For once, once…I just want to take what I need.
“I can keep a secret,” Santa told her, his voice strangely quiet, carrying only to her ears. She turned back to him, forgetting the others as he said, “Tell me what you want.”
Right then, there was one thing she wanted, and those gleaming eyes seemed to promise it to her. Christie wet her lips, leaned in even closer to St. Nick, and let her wild side free as she quietly confessed, “Santa, I want a really good time.” Sex with me is never boring. If only.
He stiffened beneath her, his whole body hardening.
“Know where I can find that?” she asked, her voice husky as she pulled back.
His eyes seemed to burn her. “Oh, I think I—”
“Come on, Christie!” Daniel called out. “Stop hogging Santa! We’ve got a line here.”
She eased off Santa’s lap. He grabbed her wrist and held tight.
“I know,” Santa finished, that deep voice sending a tremble right through her.
Oh, she just bet he did. Christie tugged her hand free and hurried back as the champagne-induced courage began to desert her.
“Wait, Christie!” Daniel said. “You didn’t get your present! You can’t—”
“Maybe I’ll get it later.” She brushed by him as her heart raced too fast. What did I just do?
“Don’t worry. She’ll definitely get her present later.”
Oh, hell. His voice. She’d propositioned Santa Stud…and the guy had accepted her offer.
Jonas Kirk watched Christie Tate’s sweet ass as she all but ran away from him. Her words echoed in his ears.
Santa, I want a really good time. Holy shit. Had the woman wanted to give him a heart attack? Or just a serious hard-on?
“Dude…the presents,” Daniel growled the words.
Jonas realized he was straining to see Christie’s ass. Couldn’t really help that. The woman had a first-class ass. Put that with her come-and-get-me, blue bedroom eyes and the mouth made for sin…and you had a woman who’d been tempting him for almost fifteen years.
And she’d just asked me for sex.
Screw the presents. Jonas waved his hands toward the bag. “Christmas bonuses are inside…come and get ’em!”
Daniel’s eyes—several shades lighter than Christie’s—bulged. “What are you doing?”
The crowd swarmed.
Jonas yanked off his beard. “Spreading Christmas cheer.” He shoved through the group. Sure, he’d promised his buddy that he’d pop in and play Santa, and Jonas didn’t really mind the gig. It was a nice break from his usual routine of catching criminals but—
He knew Christie, and he knew when the woman was about to run. After all, she’d spent most of her life running from him.
Because she knows how much I want her?
He’d always tried so hard to hold the hunger in check when he was around her. Sweet Christie Tate. The girl-genius who’d been dropped in his college class even though she was only sixteen. The girl with the slow, innocent smile. The girl who always smelled like strawberries. The girl who’d become a woman he craved. A woman who’d been hands-off for so long.
A woman he wasn’t about to let vanish.
He rounded the corner and caught a glimpse of her hair, long and black, right before the elevator door closed.
Shit.
Jonas shoved open the stairwell door and rushed down the stairs. If he was lucky, he’d catch her in the lobby.
A few moments later, his palm shoved into the exit door. He ran into the lobby, aware of the guard jumping to his feet with wide eyes.
“It’s okay, Jamie.” The cop worked after hours at the toy company, getting a little extra cash for the holidays. Several of the cops in the area pulled guard duty at the toy shop. “I’m just trying to catch—”
The elevator dinged, a soft peal of sound, and then the doors slid open.
Christie glanced up, and her eyes widened when she saw him. “J-Jonas?”
He lunged through the doors and caught her elbows. He pulled her close. What? Why was she so tense? Was she regretting her confession now that she saw the man who’d been beneath the beard?
Can’t back out. Won’t let her.
His lips crushed down on hers. Jonas caught her gasp with his mouth, took in that soft rush of breath, and then his tongue pushed into her mouth.
Champagne and strawberries. Figured she’d taste that damn good. A growl built in his throat. Addictive. Yeah, he’d always known one taste would probably push him over the edge. Good to know he’d been right.
Her hands rose to his shoulders. Small, delicate hands. She was small and delicate. A dancer’s body on a woman who always swore she didn’t have an ounce of grace.
He expected those hands to push against him. To shove him back. Instead, her fingers curled over him, and Christie urged closer. She rose onto her toes, stretching her body against his, and she opened her mouth wider.
Sweet hell.
Her tongue touched his. His entire body went on high-freaking-alert. They stumbled back a few steps. His hands—then her shoulders—hit the rear wall of the elevator.
The things she could do with that tongue…
Ding.
Jonas wrenched his head up. What was he—
Christie’s mouth pressed against his throat. Her tongue tasted his skin, and the edge of her teeth bit lightly into his flesh.
The damn Santa pants were too tight over a certain eager portion of his anatomy, a portion that couldn’t wait to be a whole lot closer to her.
His hands slid under the back of her shirt and touched warm, soft skin. So smooth. Better than silk. His fingers rose, curling, easing forward and caressing her stomach. Then his hands rose up and trailed over her rib cage, and, oh, yeah, that was the edge of her bra. Close now, so—
Ding.
The damn elevator doors. Jonas threw a fast glance over his shoulder. The doors opened. Jamie frowned at him, two guys in suits stared with wide eyes, and a woman in red smiled.
Wrong place.
He forced his hands to slide from under Christie’s shirt. Jonas forced himself to let her go and to step back.
Jonas
