Definitely Naughty (4 page)

She stopped him with a warm hand on his wrist. “This is on me. Why don’t you go down and get us a cab? I’ll meet you in a moment.”

He nipped at the corner of her mouth, but he liked her idea enough not to argue the point. “I’m going to be a wreck at work tomorrow, aren’t I?”

“I should hope so,” she said, and he just watched her as she walked away. Okay, now he could start getting all worked up.

His apartment was between Hell’s Kitchen and the theater district, just a couple of blocks from Port Authority. Not a long cab ride, not at this time of night. Which didn’t mean the streets weren’t busy. Despite the cold, the sidewalk vendors were out in full force, as were the folks getting out of movies and plays, the late diners and bar denizens. The city pulsed around them, and Aubrey felt as if she’d won. Now that the game she knew how to play was over, the rest of the night was a giant question mark.

He was a perfect gentleman in the backseat of the taxi. Not plastered against his door, but not touching her, either. His hands were on his thighs, and while she tried not to stare, his fingers had jerked twice now, which was what she did when she was nervous. As they passed the Flatiron, she knew she had to do something to take his mind off
later
. She wanted him to be thinking about
right now
.

She didn’t have much to work with in the back of the taxi and she refused to be obvious. He probably wouldn’t object to her hand on his thigh, but that wasn’t the point.

After inviting Liam to the bar, she’d gone back into Le Muse and done some judicious borrowing. Of course, she’d buy the underthings. She wasn’t that tacky. But she would put back the shoes she’d taken from one of the in-store mannequins and the bag that held her hat and her overnight supplies. The cost of the bra, panties and thigh-high stockings would put her over her monthly budget, but hell, that was more of a suggestion than a rule. Besides, it was worth it.

She wasn’t about to flash him the whole package, not in a car, but she could give him a sneak preview.

The first act was a dramatic sigh. It was breathy and loud enough for him to notice. She angled her face so he’d only see her in profile, but would still be able to catch the slow swipe of her tongue across her lips. Thanks to the reflective glass, she could see his head turn and his eyebrows lift. With her coat pushed open, she swung her right leg over her left, baring a swath of thigh. Her thong was still out of sight, but she’d been sure to uncover a sliver of skin above her stocking.

His sharp intake of breath made her want to grin, as did the way he hadn’t lifted his head an inch since she started her little routine. Although she couldn’t see them, she’d bet her only pair of Cavalli platforms that those big hands of his were fisted tight, aching to reach over and touch. Aubrey—1, twitchy fingers—0.

The backseat got distinctly hotter and his breathing kicked up a couple of notches. Tension sizzled during what had to be one of Aubrey’s favorite things in the world: the anticipation stage. Especially when it happened at an inconvenient place or time, when to act was impossible but to stop thinking about it was worse. As long as the phase didn’t go on too long—she wasn’t exactly a delayed gratification kind of person.

Too quickly, they turned on 42
nd
. Her pulse sped as the cab slowed to a stop in front of his building on West 45
th
. She reached for her bag as he whipped out his wallet. He tipped well, always a good sign.

As Liam opened his door, it occurred to her that this wasn’t theoretical anymore. Once they got inside, the lots and lots of sex would commence. God, she hoped they were compatible. If not, this whole project could theoretically go down in flames, which would break her heart. She needed inspiration, and she was pretty sure that if the ancient Greeks had had the foresight to realize that window designers would need help, muses would look exactly like Liam. And, of course, they’d be men.

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 87
th
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.