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

to me?”

      He opened the car door and ushered her inside. “I’m gonna find out, baby.”

      “This isn’t your case.” No dead bodies—thank God—no need for him to be here. “Daniel might have called you in before, but you don’t have to work this.”

      “You’ve involved.” His eyes glittered. “That means I’m involved, and I’m not backing off until I find out what’s happening.”

      Her hands tightened around the steering wheel. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.” Things had spiraled out of control. “It’s all gotten so complicated,” she whispered and caught the narrowing of his eyes.

      “Baby, sex is complicated.”

      With him, it was. Complicated and hot and wild and what she needed right then to banish the cold that snaked through her. In my house. Why?

      “Keep the vehicle running and stay warm. Harris over there”—he nodded to a cop standing near a patrol car—“will keep an eye on you until I get back.”

      She grabbed his hand. “You really think I need someone to watch me every minute?”

      His stare bored into her. “I need him there.” The faint lines around his eyes seemed deeper. “It takes someone damn ballsy to walk right into your house. Whoever this dick is, he’s not getting close to you again.”

      This wasn’t the way her Christmas should have turned out. When she’d made her wish, she’d just wanted—

      He kissed her. She expected a hard, fierce kiss. Instead, it was the gentlest whisper of lips. “I’m the only one getting close to you.”

      Then he was gone.

      And she wanted him back. Close again. As close as she could get him.

      She’d never been to his apartment before. Christie wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but the relaxed feel of the place suited Jonas.

      She liked the overstuffed couch—the couch that faced the flat-screen TV. The overflowing bookshelf wasn’t a surprise. She’d known Jonas loved to read.

      But she didn’t expect the tree.

      A small Christmas tree, wilting a bit, stood in the corner of his den. Some gold garland—like the garland she’d seen at the station—had been tossed around the tree. No presents were under the tree. No tree skirt. No, um, water that she could tell. It wasn’t an artificial tree, so it really needed some water.

      Jonas came up behind her. “It’s a piece of shit, isn’t it?”

      Despite the tension that had been riding her, Christie found herself laughing. “No, I think it’s gorgeous.” She’d always been a Charlie Brown tree fan. “But, Jonas,” she turned in his arms, “you might want to consider watering it. If you want the tree to live until Christmas.”

      His cheeks stained a bit. “Figured I forgot something.” He shook his head. “I knew if I didn’t get a tree, you’d—”

      Whoa. Wait a minute. “When did you get the tree?”

      “Today.” He bent his head and his lips pressed against her neck.

      Her weak spot. She held onto his shoulders, aware that her knees trembled. “Wh-why?”

      “Because”—his breath blew over her flesh—“You love Christmas.”

      Well, yes. Didn’t everyone?

      He caught her hands and pulled back. “There wasn’t much for me to celebrate in the years after my parents died.”

      No, there probably hadn’t been.

      “I bounced around in foster care until I hit eighteen. And then…hell, your brother invited me home every holiday, but I didn’t go with him.”

      “Why not?”

      “Because seeing other families hurt too much.” He dropped her hands and glanced toward the tree. “There were only a few trees left on the lot. It really didn’t look that bad earlier.”

      Seeing other families hurt too much. “I-it just needs some water. The tree’s gorgeous.”

      She saw his mouth tighten. “It’s not like yours.”

      “That’s because I spent two days decorating mine, and I forced Daniel to help me.” Next year you can help. She bit the words back. There wouldn’t be a next year. The wish she’d made had time limits.

      She wrapped her arms around his waist.

      “When I worked undercover, I didn’t have days off for the holidays. I didn’t want my Christmas to be free.”

      But this year was different. “Jonas, why’d you transfer out?”

      Silence. Then, “Because I realized there were things I did want. Things I wanted more than the job.”

      What do you want? The question trembled on her lips. The bolder, braver Christie would ask. But that woman wasn’t there at the moment. Too much had happened tonight. Doubts surrounded her. Fears.

      “I hope you get everything you want,” she said instead and meant it. Jonas deserved to be happy.

      “So do I,” he muttered and his mouth took hers. The kiss was harder, deeper. “Because I’m damn well realizing how much I need you.”

      Wait—what had he said? “Jonas—”

      His tongue thrust into her mouth. His hands pushed the coat off her shoulders, and it hit the floor.

      “Did you wear this to drive me crazy?” The words were growled against her lips.

      She managed a nod.

      “It worked.”

      He lifted her up, carried her, and placed her on the table near the wall. “I wanted you from the second I saw you tonight. You were nervous, scared, and I wanted to keep you safe—and I just wanted you.” His hand pushed under her skirt. “Oh, hell, garters?”

      They’d been so sexy in the store, and she’d never worn them before. They’d looked great on the mannequin. Sexy and fun.

      “We’re not making it to the bedroom, not for the first time.” His blazing eyes held hers. “I’m fucking starving for you.”

      When had a man ever told her that? When had a man ever looked at her with such need?

      No other man. Just Jonas.

      “I don’t need the bedroom.” She let her hands trail down his chest. Thanks to the table, she was at the perfect height to touch and tease. And, really, it was her turn to play. She caught the buckle of his belt and unhooked the leather. He’d already ditched his jacket and gloves. Time for the rest to go.

      He sucked in a sharp breath when she unsnapped the pants and eased down the zipper.

      “Wait.”

      He was telling her to stop? Her jaw almost dropped.

      But he yanked a condom out of his wallet and slapped the foil packet on the table. Ah, that was her man. Always prepared.

      She reached for his cock. Already up, thick, bobbing toward her. She hadn’t gotten the chance to touch that flesh before. Hadn’t been able to explore him as he’d learned her.

      Now she did. She squeezed his length, stroked from root to tip and enjoyed the way he hissed out her name. He was warm, strong, and she knew he’d feel so good inside.

      “Told you”—he caught her wrist. Held tight—“Can’t wait.”

      Ah, but she was having so much fun. “You haven’t seen my underwear yet.” She kissed the hard line of his jaw even as her hands pumped his cock. “Do you think I’m wearing your gift?”

      She