Definitely Naughty

by Jo Leigh

  She waited while he walked around the taxi to open her door. Unsurprisingly, he took a quick glance at her lower regions as he took her hand.

  Very surprisingly, he didn’t let her go until they’d reached his second-floor apartment.

  “After you,” he said, pushing his door open.

  “I’m glad that we came here,” she said, stepping inside as she shrugged off her big coat. She meant to catch it in a striking and well-practiced move, but it slipped past her grip. Wincing hard, she didn’t let her shoulders sag as she pasted on her most convincing grin before she turned to get it.

  He beat her to it.

  Her smile became very real. “Thank you,” she said, before turning away from the door. Now was her chance to scope out the room, and learn some things about the detective.

  It was a box, like most Manhattan apartments. Small living room, kitchenette and a joke of a dining room were all on view. There was a door, though, at the far end, through which she spied a hint of a bed.

  “Would you like something to drink?”

  “Among other things,” she said, giving the decor a once-over. Leather couch in good shape, midsize flat screen on the wall, two build-it-yourself bookcases that held pictures as well as hard-and paperback books. Walking by his coffee table she saw a few magazines. Time, Runner’s World, Men’s Health. She’d already determined he was fit under his dull suit, but now she couldn’t wait to see.

  Unfortunately, there was very little personality on display. The bookcases were her only hope. Not only would she discover his taste in reading, but there were several framed pictures she couldn’t make out from where she stood.

  “What would those other things be?” He’d come up close behind her, making her jump. She spun around as fast as she could, but he didn’t seem startled at all. Pity. She wanted to keep the upper hand, at least for now.

  She touched the edge of his shirt collar, letting her knuckles brush against his collarbone. “You never did tell me why you became a detective.”

  “It’s a long story,” he said, his voice half an octave lower than a second before. He covered her hand with his own, and the contact made her shiver. The kiss in the bar had been nothing more than an amuse-bouche, and she was hungry for more.

  “I’ve got all night,” she said, leaning closer, trailing her other hand down his chest toward the row of buttons on his Oxford shirt.

  His warm breath washed over her cheek, ruffling her curls. “No one in my family has ever been a cop,” he said, so close she felt each word on her earlobe. “No significant policeman in my life.”

  He brushed his palms down her arms, then moved one to the small of her back while the other headed north to her nape.

  “That’s fascinating,” she whispered, “but it doesn’t answer my question.”

  Now she could feel the rest of him, the muscled thigh, the solidity of his chest. He shifted just enough to signal his intentions by pressing his hard cock against her hip. As his body warmed her, he tilted her head back with both fingers and nudged her with his nose until their lips almost touched. They breathed each other in, exhaled heat and want. It felt like standing at the edge of a cliff.

  Then he kissed her and she let herself fall. Couldn’t help it. The second his tongue plunged into her mouth a surge of heat flowed from her chest to her pussy. He started slow, then built to a powerful rhythm that was shockingly possessive.

  The wonderful throaty sounds he made as he took his sweet time made her moan with pleasure. She loved kissing, but just making out didn’t seem very popular among the men she dated. And frankly, it wouldn’t be enough for her tonight.

  When she snapped out of her reverie she got busy, showing him she could give as good as she got. What with being dazzled by this delightful new side of Liam, all she managed to do was squeeze his ass. It was a damn good ass, but she couldn’t concentrate on that now.

  He grunted, moved his thigh between her knees, broke the kiss only to reclaim her mouth from a different, better angle.

  Seriously. What the hell? It was as if he'd read the manual. Maybe he really was her muse. His leg moved up beneath her dress, pressing against her crotch. She arched against him shamelessly.

  Liam’s lips traced a moist line down her throat, and when he reached the tender flesh behind her ear he whispered, “Please,” but it was more of a growl than a word.

  “Please what?” she asked, one hand moving to his hair, holding him against her so he’d never stop. “What do you want? Tell me.”

  Pulling back, he met her gaze. He was flushed, those incredible blue irises overwhelmed by dark pupils. Everywhere he touched her seemed to burn. “I want you naked.”

  “Well?” she said, letting go of her grip above and below.

  She would never have guessed he had a smile so wicked her toes tried to curl in her shoes.

  His hands swept down her body, only stopping when he reached the fullest part of her buttocks. After a very decent double-handed squeeze, he moved on and, while she knew where he was going, the journey was a lot more interesting because he was staring at her so hard, unwavering and intense. She couldn’t tell if it was a dare or a promise.

  It didn’t matter, not when he had slowed to an aching pace, as if each touch told him something. It was flattering and scary. Scary worked for her. Big-time.

  When his hands got to the top of her stockings his lids fluttered and his moan made her insides clench. Using only his fingertips, he brushed across her bare skin. Damn him for his patience. If she hadn’t given him carte blanche, she’d have made a fuss. Instead, she stood, mesmerized by his mad skills.

  He opened his eyes again as he leaned in closer. Touches that felt light as a feather swirled against the backs of her legs, and she shuddered as he stroked the edge of her inner thigh.

  “I knew I wanted to be a cop by the time I’d turned twelve,” he said, as if they were having a casual chat.

  Her mind tilted, trying to make sense of what he was saying when his touch had taken over virtually every part of her brain.

  “It was…the 87th Precinct,” he whispered.

  He moved his fingers forward, but not up.

  “What?”

  One finger from each hand dipped inside her stocking tops.

  “You asked,” he mumbled, busy kissing her collarbone, the bottom of her jaw.

  His thumbs brushed the very edge of her pussy.

  “Why I became…”

  “I no longer give a damn,” she said, moving her hips in an attempt to stop the teasing, “you bastard.” But her voice was as wobbly as her legs. Another almost-there touch with his thumbs, and she had to grab him or melt into a puddle. Holding on to the front of his shirt, she shook him. Tried to, at least, but he didn’t budge.

  “It’s not nice to swear at your muse,” he said. How could he joke at a time like this?

  After a hard swallow, she gathered the paltry remains of her functioning mind.

  “You’re thinking of old-timey muses,” she said, amazed that she wasn’t just quietly weeping. “Nowadays it’s expected. Especially when the muse is all tease and no—”

  He slid both thumbs underneath the damp silk and tugged down. Her thong dropped between her shoes as she gasped. “Oh, fuck me,” she said.

  “I intend to.” He kissed her again, this time not half so possessive, but infinitely more sinful. His tongue swirled over, under, around and he nipped at her bottom lip before he sucked her tongue straight into his mouth.

  Leaving her begging for more, he moved down again, taking her slinky black dress with him. Liam found the hollow of her throat irresistible as he continued removing her dress. He nestled his nose at the crook of her shoulder and inhaled her like perfume. He didn’t even stop when he bared her breasts.

  But he did moan as if he might die any second.

  She helped him along with her hands in his dark hair, all soft and silky and willing to go where she suggested. A quick lick across her already-hard nip and then a
full breath of air across the damp flesh, and shit, she was going to have to insist they get horizontal soon, or there’d be trouble.

  While he paid the same attention to nipple number two, he went back to the job he’d started between her thighs. She expected one of his fingers to slide inside her, but nope. He seemed to like playing with her thigh-highs with his fingers and tormenting her very damp lips with his thumbs. But then he…started…doing things. Rubbing her this close to where she wanted him to rub, then right there perfect, but only for a second. Her knees dipped and her hands clenched his hair. It must have hurt, although from the sound of his low hum as he sucked her tit, he didn’t mind.

  She gasped as the pressure on her clit increased just enough, and holy shit, the man must text like a demon, because he knew exactly where her buttons were and precisely how to press them.

  “Liam,” she said, although she could barely breathe, so she doubted he heard her. “Liam, God, stop. I can’t—”

  He lifted his head away from her breast. “Sure you can.”

  Shaking her head, tugging at him, she somehow managed to press her legs together, trapping him before he could push her over the edge.

  One soft kiss on her right nip and another on her left, and he looked up to meet her gaze. “I take it you want to move this to the bedroom.”

  She nodded, noticing that despite his calm tone, he looked wild. Almost dangerous. And he’d looked so harmless at the bar. “Anywhere flat will do.”

  “I was going to go all caveman and carry you once I’d got you quivering.”

  “I can walk just fine. At least I think so. But points for creativity.”

  “You’ll have to let me go.”

  She took a deep breath, steadied herself and took one step to part her legs.

  He helped her dress puddle on top of her thong, and then he stood up straight. “One second. Okay? Just one second.”

  “What for?”

  The next two steps were his, backing away so he could look at her. Naked all the way down to her stockings, still standing in her very high, very red heels.

  It wasn’t easy to let him stare like that. At first. But the lack of blinking and the way his breathing quickened transformed her shyness into something brand-new. He liked what he saw. So much, he actually had to press his palm against his very distinct erection.

  “Wow,” she said. “Thanks.”

  He squinted for a second, and the look on his face suggested he’d done something bad. “Would you mind turning around?” he asked, his voice more uncertain than he’d been all night.

  That made her blush. Well, blush more. It was one thing to be prancing around nude from the front, but to turn around? She’d always been self-conscious about her butt and her hips. The thong had been a risk. But he’d been so sweet and so amazing…

  She stepped over her clothes, then closed her eyes and held her breath as she turned around. It was worse than trying on bathing suits. She counted the seconds, figuring ten was all she could handle.

  “My God,” he whispered, moving toward her. “You’re stunning.”

  She exhaled when he put his hands on her shoulders and she leaned back against his hard chest. Among other things.

  Chapter Five

  The elbow in his back woke Liam with a start. The room smelled like sex. Better than that. It smelled like Aubrey. The grit in his eyes wasn’t enough to dampen his smile as he turned in his bed. Memories of the night flooded his system, making his morning wood even stiffer.

  God, she was all dark curls and pale skin in the dim light from the closed curtains. He wanted to kiss her shoulder. Then make a new trail all the way down her back. But he really needed to go to the bathroom. Life was definitely not fair.

  Instead of waking her, he did his best to slip out of bed silently. As he stood, he caught sight of his alarm clock. “Fuck!” He should have been at the precinct an hour ago. What the hell happened to the alarm?

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Late,” he said, wishing the sound of her sleepy voice didn’t go right to his cock. “We’ve got to hurry.”

  “I don’t have to be anywhere,” she said, then buried her face in her pillow.

  “I do.” With real regret, he yanked the covers down. Last night had been the best thing that had happened to him in a long time, and he’d love nothing more than to join her for the rest of the day.

  “Mean,” she said.

  “If you want to pee, do it now, because I have to shower.”

  “What about my shower?” she asked, pouting as she lifted up to lean on her elbows.

  He would have asked her to join him, but there was no way that would end in anything but sex. He’d never been late, not once, not even when he’d been in the academy. “Of course, you go first, but please be quick as you can. This is a horrible way to end a fantastic night, but we’ve got to hustle. So…” He jerked his head toward the bathroom door.

  “Fine,” she said, although it was clear she wasn’t happy. “I’ll shower at home. But next time, you need to take the day off.”

  The idea of a next time didn’t bother him at all. Neither did watching her scoot off the bed, her small breasts jiggling as she bounced. Her nipples were hard, and he knew exactly how they tasted. Jesus, this was not the time.

  She swerved when she got to his side of the bed, kissed his shoulder and ran a finger up the length of his straining dick, making him tense so sharply he bit his tongue.

  “Pity we can’t take care of that,” she said, still looking at his erection. “But you’re late and we’ve got to hustle.”

  After she closed the bathroom door, he managed to walk the short distance to the kitchen. The phone charger next to the coffeemaker was empty, and he cursed, wondering what else he’d forgotten to do in the madness of last night. Jesus, she’d been so responsive. As if they’d been together dozens of times, but with all the perks of a first time. Unreal.

  He looked at his bedroom door, wondering if she was putting on her clothes. It might not be too late to call in sick. He’d only taken one day in all these years, so nobody could complain, and then he’d have the whole day to find out exactly how compatible they were.

  His hand was on his cock, hard against his stomach again. What the hell had she done to him? Calling in sick when he’d just been responsible for a major bust? Had he lost his mind?

  He turned on the coffee, brought out two to-go cups and willed his erection to go down before she joined him. It didn’t.

  He was on the steps of the precinct when he remembered that he hadn’t gotten the trading card back. Damn it.

  Aubrey floated all the way home, and it had nothing at all to do with the strong scent of ganja in her cab. Her high was all Liam’s fault. Liam. She wasn’t sure what he’d do for her designs, but he inspired the hell out of her libido.

  When she walked in the door, she found Caro on the Ugliest Couch in Five Boroughs, still in her sleep shirt and tiger slippers. “So he wasn’t just a pretty face?”

  Aubrey lost the shoes on her way to join her friend. “No, he was not. In fact, he proved unequivocally that I was a hundred percent right.”

  “About?”

  “Him being my muse. Sent from the gods themselves.”

  Caro clicked off the TV, which Aubrey hadn’t even registered. “Tell me.”

  “We should wait for Sanjula.”

  “She won’t be here until God-knows o’clock, and we both have to go to work, so give me something. For pity’s sake, we ended up making s’mores in the microwave and watching Love, Actually for the billionth time last night. I need hope in a hopeless world.”

  Aubrey put a comforting hand on Caro’s arm. “Trust me. Magical nights still exist.”

  “You gonna see him again?” Caro pushed her hand through her platinum-blond pixie cut.

  “Well, yeah. He’s a babe and he’s smart and he’s a police detective for real.”

  “And…?”

  Aubrey hesitated, felt a blush bl
oom and a reticence she’d never had with her friend. “He stole my breath away.”

  Caro’s eyes widened. “That’s…wow.”

  “I know,” she said, shaking her head as if to banish her foolishness. The sex had been the best ever, but it was just sex. Anything else was her making up stories because she was still on a high. “Poor everyone else I’ve ever slept with. Alas, there’s a new title holder. Now, I must take a shower and have more caffeine because I don’t think we slept for more than two hours.”

  “I’ve got to meet this dude.”

  Aubrey stood up. “Meet, yes. Share, no.”

  “You’re so selfish. And after I gave you my last yogurt the day before yesterday.”

  Aubrey didn’t take the bait. “He’s a temp, and I’m going to get maximum bang for my buck. I still have nothing for the window. And Yvonne’s getting impatient.”

  “Be that way,” Caro said, getting up, too. “Even though you’re a lousy friend, I’m going to make coffee for you. Because I’m just that nice.”

  “Oh, you’re a goddess.”

  “Well, no. I was planning on having coffee, anyway. Still, do me a favor and ask your muse if he has any single friends.”

  “I’ll do my best.” Aubrey made her way through the postage-stamp-size living room/kitchen to the closet that was her bedroom. It was so teeny, her double bed barely fit. But they were in the East Village, close to everything that mattered, so what was a little inconvenience when it came to washing? Or cooking? Or heating?

  Nothing was going to bother her today. Because she was going to make sure she and Liam got together again toot sweet.

  He’d finished his interview with Bart Norris, the man behind the money-laundering scheme. It was the first of many, and since Norris had his lawyer with him, there’d been more questions than answers. It shouldn’t matter in the end. The physical evidence and the paper trail were solid. That didn’t guarantee a conviction, but it was something.