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
