On the Naughty List

by Lori Foster

  The space where her desk and various office equipment sat had been intended as a breakfast nook, but she’d commandeered the space for her office.

  Her bedroom, a spare room, and the bath were all upstairs. Eric was looking at the heavy desk and she said quickly, “I kept Daddy’s desk from home, and some of his furniture.”

  Maggie watched as Eric made note of the two straight-backed armchairs flanking the fireplace. They were antique also, repadded with a soft velvety material that complemented the subtle striping in her own overstuffed beige, rose, and burgundy sofa. Marble-topped tables that had been in her family for over fifty years were situated at either end of the sofa and each held an array of framed photos and Christmas bric-a-brac. On the matching coffee table was a large glass dish filled with candies, and two more fat candles. Over the warmly glowing parquet floor was a large thick area rug that had once decorated her father’s library.

  Nodding, his hand still cupped securely around her arm, Eric said, “You and your father were very close, weren’t you?”

  The warmth of his hand made casual conversation difficult. “I think more so than most daughters and fathers, because my mother had passed away when I was so young.” She shrugged, but the sadness never failed to touch her when she thought of her father. “It was always just Dad and me, and he was the best father in the world.”

  Eric tugged her closer and stood looking down into her face. Memories flitted through her mind, the way he’d held her on his lap and let her cry the day her father had passed away. Eric had been the only other person she’d wanted to grieve with. When she’d come to him, he hadn’t questioned her, hadn’t hesitated. He’d held her, and she’d been comforted.

  Eric lifted his free hand and smoothed her cheek. The touch was intimate and exciting. “I’m sorry you’ve caught me looking so wretched,” she blurted.

  He smiled and his hand slipped around her neck, his rough fingertips teasing her skin even as he bent his head. “You look adorable.”

  Maggie barely absorbed the absurd compliment before the feel of his mouth on hers scattered her wits. But this kiss was gentle and fleeting, his warm mouth there and then gone, leaving her lips tingling, her breath catching. Making her want so much more. She leaned toward him, hoping he’d take the hint—and her doorbell rang.

  “You go get dried off,” he whispered as he teased the corner of her mouth with his thumb, “and I’ll get the pizza.”

  Flustered, she stepped back and retightened her belt. “It’ll just take me a few minutes to change and get my hair combed out.”

  Eric straightened her chenille lapels, letting the backs of his hands glide over her upper chest, then lower. His knuckles barely fell short of actually coming into contact with her nipples. She gasped, waiting, in an agony of anticipation.

  He met her encouraging gaze and ordered in a low voice, “No, don’t change. I like this. It’s sexy.”

  “It is?” She looked down at the faded peach robe, threadbare in some spots where the chenille had fallen out from too many washings. Bemusement shook her out of her stupor. “This is sexy?”

  “Are you naked beneath it?”

  She gulped. “Yes.”

  His hazel eyes glowed with heat. “Damn right it’s sexy.”

  She turned on her heel and stumbled out of the room. Eric appeared to be here for a reason, and her heart was racing so fast she could barely breathe. “I’ll be right back,” she called over her shoulder.

  “Take your time,” he answered on his way to her front door, but within five minutes she had her hair combed out and nearly dry, a touch of subtle makeup on, and her best perfume dabbed into the most secret places.

  Eric didn’t stand a chance.

  * * *

  Eric had set the pizza in the kitchen and was studying Maggie’s colorful tree when he felt her presence behind him. He turned slowly and was met with the sight of her bright, expectant gaze. She watched him so closely, he felt singed. Anticipation rode him hard.

  Maggie might enjoy writing hot love scenes, but he intended to see that she enjoyed experiencing them even more.

  The idea of getting Maggie Carmichael hot made blood surge to his groin, swelling his sex painfully and making his heart race. He wanted everything from her, but he’d take what he could get.

  “Come here,” he whispered.

  Lips parted, her pulse visibly racing, Maggie padded toward him on bare feet. She moved slowly, as if uncertain of his intent. Good. She had teased him at work, tempting him with that killer kiss beneath the mistletoe and then darting away. Did she sense her teasing had come to an end?

  When she got close enough, Eric casually looped his arms around her waist. His hands rested on the very top of her sweetly rounded behind. Though his fingers twitched with the need to cuddle her bottom, to see if it was as soft and resilient as he’d always imagined, he didn’t give in to the urge. That would be too easy, for both of them.

  Nuzzling her cheek, he asked, “Do you know why I’m here, sweetheart?”

  Her small palms opened on his chest and she nodded. “I think so.”

  He lightly bit her neck, making her gasp, then laved the small spot with his tongue. Fresh from her bath, her skin tasted warm and soft and was scented by something other than Maggie herself. That disappointed him. Why did women always try to conceal their own delicious smell with artificial scents?

  “You’re wearing perfume,” he noted out loud.

  “I … yes.”

  “Where all did you put it, Maggie?”

  Maggie’s breath deepened, came faster. She shook her head, as if she didn’t understand.

  “When I’m this close to you,” he said softly, “I want to smell you.”

  Eric let his hand glide up her waist to the outer curves of her breast. “When I kiss you here,” he said, holding her gaze as his thumb brushed inward, just touching the edge of a tightly beaded nipple, “I don’t want to be distracted with the smell of perfume. Do you understand?”

  Her whole body trembled with her repressed excitement. “Yes.”

  “And,” he added, trailing his fingers slowly downward, watching her, judging her response, “when I kiss you … here—”

  “Oh, God.” Her eyes drifted shut and she shivered.

  “I want to know your scent.” His fingers brushed, so very gently, between her thighs. Her lips parted, her head tilted back. The robe was thick enough that his touch would only be teasing, but still she jerked.

  Eric took the offering of her throat and drew her tender flesh against his teeth, deliberately giving her a hickey. He wanted to mark her as his own—all over. She moaned and snuggled closer to him.

  “Damn, you taste good.” He waited a heartbeat, letting that sink in, then added in a whisper, “I can’t wait to taste you everywhere.” His fingers were still between her thighs, cupping her mound, and he pressed warmly against her to let her know exactly what he meant.

  Her hands curled into fists, knotting in his shirt. He waited for her to get a visual image of that, already planning his next move while he had her off balance.

  Her eyes opened, hotly intent. “I’d like to taste you, too,” she answered, and Eric barely bit back his groan.

  “Damn.” If she got him visualizing things like her mouth on him, he’d never last! He gave a half laugh at her daring, which earned him a startled expression. Maggie never failed to amaze him. “I want this to last, you little tease. Don’t push me.”

  She didn’t deny the teasing part, and simply asked, “This?”

  “Mmmm.” He slipped his hand under her collar and rubbed her nape, feeling the cool slide of her damp, heavy hair over the back of his hand. “I want you so much I’m about to go crazy with it.”

  “Eric.” She breathed his name, attempting to wiggle closer to him.

  He held her off. “No, not yet. I need you to want me as much, Maggie.”

  With her hands clenched in his shirt, she attempted to shake him. He didn’t budge, and her b
rown eyes grew huge and uncertain. “But I do!”

  “Shhh.” He pressed his thumb over her lips, silencing her. “Not yet. But you will. Soon.”

  Wind whistled outside the French doors behind her desk, blowing powdery snowflakes against the glass. The twinkle lights on her tree gave a magical glow to the room. Eric stepped away from her, amazed at how difficult it was to do. “You need to eat your pizza before it gets cold.”

  Maggie’s breathing was audible in the otherwise silent room. With a quick glance, Eric saw that her hands were folded over her middle, as if to hold in the sweet ache of desire, and her nipples were thrusting points against the softness of her robe. His testicles tightened, his cock throbbing at this evidence of her arousal, but he refused to make this so easy. He’d been suffering for a hell of a long time, wanting her, yet not wanting to make her unhappy. Now he knew that she was as physically attracted as he. But if that was all they could have, he wanted it to be the best it could be. And that meant being patient.

  “Forget the pizza,” she said. “I’m … I’m not hungry anymore.”

  Eric noted her stiff posture, the color in her cheeks. “Is that right?”

  She lifted her chin in that familiar way that made his heart swell. “I’m hungry for you. So stop teasing me.”

  Against his will, Eric felt his mouth curling in a pleased smile. Maggie liked giving orders, further evidence that she fit the role of “boss” to perfection. He nodded slowly, keeping his gaze locked to her own, and said, “All right, sweetheart.”

  She accepted his hand when he reached out to her, her slender chilled fingers nestling into his warm palm. Eric turned them toward the sitting area and led Maggie to a single straight-backed chair. The Christmas tree with its soft glow was behind her, lending the only illumination other than the faint light from the kitchen.

  Maggie looked at the chair, then at the very soft, long couch, but he could tell she wasn’t brazen enough to insist they sit side by side, which he’d been counting on. If they settled together on the couch, she’d end up beneath him in no time and all his seduction would be over before it had really started.

  That wouldn’t do.

  With a soft grumble, more to herself, though he heard her plain enough, Maggie slid into the chair and then fussed with her robe, making certain it folded modestly over her legs. A futile effort on her part, but for the moment he let it go.

  Hiding his grin, Eric walked behind Maggie. She stiffened, alert to his every move. Eric touched her hair.

  “Do you have any idea how much I loved your hair long?”

  Tipping her head back, she looked at him upside down. “No.”

  Eric smoothed his hands over her throat, and when her lips parted, he leaned down and kissed her lightly. “I used to imagine your hair all spread out on the pillow, my pillow.”

  “But…” She started to twist around to face him more surely, and he held her shoulders to still her movements.

  “I used to think about the fact that your hair was long enough and thick enough to hide your breasts. You could have stood topless in front of me, and I wouldn’t have been able to see a thing. But now”—he slid his hands over her shoulders and cupped her small firm breasts completely—“there’s no way you can hide from me. Can you, sweetheart?”

  Her back flattened hard against the chair and she held herself rigid, not in fear or rejection, but in surprise. The erratic drumming of her heart teased his palm. God, she felt good. Soft, round. Moving lazily, he chafed her nipples with his open hands until she gripped the arms of the chair in a death hold and her every breath sounded like a stifled moan.

  Impatient, Eric loosened the top of her robe and parted it enough to see her pale breasts and her taut pink nipples. He caught his breath.

  Just that quickly she jerked away and turned to face him, yanking her robe closed in the process. There was so much vulnerability in her face, he felt his heart softening even as his erection pushed painfully against his slacks.

  Her bottom lip quivered and she stilled it by holding it in her teeth. Both hands secured her robe, layering it over her throat so that not a single patch of her soft flesh showed.

  Eric slowly circled the chair, never releasing her from his gaze. When he was directly in front of her, her face, as well as her fascinated and wary gaze, on a level with his lap, he laid one large hand on top of her head. Her hair was cool in contrast to the heat he saw in her cheeks. “What is it, babe?”

  She squeezed her eyes closed.

  “Maggie?” Using one finger, he tipped up her chin. Was he moving too fast, despite her bravado of wanting him to get on with it? He frowned slightly with the thought. “I am going to look at you, you know.”

  She winced. “It’s just that … I’m actually sort of … small.”

  Ah. Biting back his smile, Eric knelt in front of her and covered her hands with his own. Carefully wresting them away from their secure hold on fabric and modesty, he said, “You’re actually sort of perfect.”

  She trembled, but met his gaze. “You like big-breasted women.”

  He remembered the woman in her story, with her full-blown, overripe figure. Was this why she’d put that particular female with his fictional counterpart? He ran this thumb over her knuckles, soothing her, then loosely clasped the lapels of her robe. “What makes you think so?”

  She held herself in uncertain anxiety. Did she expect him to rip the robe away despite her wishes? Never would he deliberately push her or make her uneasy. He cared far too much about her for that. No, his plans were for sensual suspense, not embarrassment.

  A small sound of frustration, or maybe more like resignation, escaped her. “All men like big breasts.”

  Perched on the edge of her seat, she looked ready to take flight regardless of the fact that Eric was on his knees in front of her, blocking her in. To prevent her from trying to do just that, he leaned forward until her legs parted and he was able to settle himself between them. Her eyes widened and her hands automatically clasped his shoulders for balance.

  He released her robe to wrap his long fingers around her hips, then snugged her that small distance closer until their bodies met, heat on heat. He pushed his hips against her.

  In a low growl that was beyond his control, Eric asked, “I’ve had a hard-on since I walked in the door. Does that feel like disinterest to you?”

  Mute, she shook her head while staring into his eyes.

  He cupped her breasts again, still outside the robe, and closed his eyes at the exquisite feel of her. “Beautiful. And sexy.”

  “But…”

  “I want to see your pretty little breasts, Maggie. I want to see all of you. Will you trust me?”

  She stared at his mouth. “Will you kiss me again first?”

  He liked it that she wanted his mouth.

  Leaning forward, he said, “I’ll kiss you everywhere. In time.” Her lips parted on a deep sigh as their breaths mingled and he took her mouth. So soft, he thought, amazed that a kiss could feel so incredible, taste so good. He devoured her with that kiss and relished her accelerated breathing. His tongue sank inside and was stroked by hers, hot and damp and greedy. It went on and on and when she relaxed completely, when her open thighs gave up their resistance and she slowly sank back in the chair, half reclining with her legs opened around his hips in a carnal sprawl, he lifted his head.

  Watching her, caught by the sight of her velvety dark gaze and swollen mouth, he touched her lapels again. She swallowed, but didn’t stop him when he slowly parted the material. As his gaze dipped to look at her, his heartbeat punched heavily inside his chest.

  He couldn’t imagine a woman more perfectly made. Her rib cage was narrow, her skin silky and pale. Her soft little breasts shimmered with her panting, nervous breaths. Pale pink, tightly pinched nipples begged for his mouth as surely as she had. “Oh, Maggie.”

  Her hands fell from his arms and flattened on the seat beside her hips, as if she needed to steady herself.

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nbsp; She inhaled sharply, then held her breath as he moved forward to nuzzle against her. Her body, softened only moments before, quickly flexed with tightened muscles and churning need. Teasing, he circled one nipple with tiny kisses, driving himself insane as he resisted the urge to draw her into the damp heat of his mouth, to suck her hard, to sate himself on her.

  “Eric…”

  “Shhh.” He flicked her with the very tip of his tongue. “We’ve got all night.”

  “I won’t last all night.”

  He chuckled soothingly and switched to the other breast. Deliberately taking her by surprise, he closed his teeth around her tender flesh and carefully tugged. Her whole body jerked; her hands clasped his head, trying to urge him closer.

  From one second to the next, his patience evaporated. Wrapping one forearm around her hips, he anchored her as close as he could get her, pelvis to pelvis, heat to heat, then suckled her into his mouth.

  Her groan, long and intense and accompanied by the clench of her body, nearly pushed him over the edge. He drew on her, his head muzzy with the reality of what he was doing, of who he was with. The mere fantasy couldn’t begin to compare.

  Openmouthed, he kissed his way to her other nipple, greedy for her. She guided him, squirming and shifting, and sighed when he latched onto her breast again as if she needed it, needed him, with the same intensity he felt.

  “Do you see,” he muttered around her damp nipple, “just how perfect you are?”

  She hitched one leg around his hips and hugged him closer. Instinctively, she moved against his rigid erection, seeking what he wouldn’t yet give.

  Eric slowly pulled away from her, determined on his course.

  “Eric…” She started to sit up, reaching for him while her legs tightened.

  Pushing the robe down to her elbows, trapping her arms; his position between her thighs, combined with her movements, had parted the material over her legs, which now left her virtually naked. The robe framed her body, with the silly belt still tied around her middle. Her belly was adorable, and he kissed it even as he remonstrated with her for her small lie.