Page 28 of A Little Naughty

The muscle in his jaw moves, and his expression hardens. “You’ll be okay. You have your sister and her friends to take care of you. You have a good family who’ll make sure you survive.”

“In Eureka, but not in Branson.” I give him a half-smile. “I guess that’s why my dream was getting back here. It’s the only place I knew I’d be safe and have food and a bed.”

He watches me, not speaking as usual. The music changes to “Gypsy” by Fleetwood Mac…a two-fer!I start to sway, turning to face the ocean and lifting my hands over my head. I’m singing softly when I feel his warmth behind me.

Warm hands slide around my waist, and he pulls me closer. “Dance with me.”

I turn, putting my hand in his, and he wraps his fingers securely around mine. I look up, and when I meet his blue eyes, my stomach tingles. Every heartbeat sends a pulse of need to my core. I lean my head against his shoulder, and it’s just the two of us dancing under the moon.

The song conjures a beautiful, swirling spell, and the scent of the ocean, salty driftwood, and spice surrounds us. His body is hard muscle. He holds me, and my fingers curl in the soft flannel of his shirt.

He has all the naughty impulsiveness I can’t resist, but there’s more to Raif Jones. He’s deeper. He sees beauty and color, magic and dreams. He’s good.

As the music fades, I look up at him. He smiles softly. “Thank you for the dance.”

“Thank you.” My heart is a butterfly in my chest, and I can’t resist. “Would you say my blue eyes put the stars to shame?”

His brow wrinkles. “No.”

“Oh.” I drop my face, embarrassed by my little-girl fantasy.

“But I don’t say things like that.” His tone is gentle, and I lift my eyes to his again. His expression relaxes. “I’d just say you’ve got the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen. If I had the choice between them and the stars, I’d choose them.”

“Oh…” I whisper.

He exhales a low chuckle I feel all the way to my toes, and I stretch up once more to press my lips to his. They’re so soft and warm, opening mine with a demanding part. Our tongues meet, and he groans again in that way that makes me wet.

I hold onto him to keep from collapsing. He’s perfectly luscious, and I want to kiss him for hours. I want to make out on the beach, then I want to do more than make out. I want his hands all over me, and I think he does, too.

Our mouths part, and stormy blue eyes search mine as if he’s struggling with one of those problems. “I’d better take you back.”

“Right.” I take a wobbly step away from him, tugging at the hem of my skirt and doing my best to break the tension. “I’m not being a very professional news woman, I guess.”

“It’s okay, we’re not recording this part.” He holds my hand to steady me in the soft sand as I climb onto his bike. He’s teasing me, which is a relief.

“This part is definitely off the record.”

He steadies the bike, throwing his leg over the seat and starting the engine. I wrap my arms around his waist again, and he takes it slow, crossing the short distance to the narrow path out to the road.

He continues at a slower pace on the drive back to town, and I guess it’s because neither of us are wearing helmets, which I know is very bad. I didn’t even think about it before. All I could think of was him and me and whatever was about to happen.

I snuggle my face between his shoulders. My arms are tight around his waist, and his hand is over mine. With my eyes closed, I feel the cool wind swirling around us, and I inhale slowly, salt air, sweet musk, and leather.

Until the bark of a siren jumps me from my dream. My eyes shoot open, and a rainbow of lights swirls around us.What the hell?

Raif lets off the gas, and his body tenses like he’s preparing for a fight. I’m confused as a black pickup truck with police lights flashing pulls up behind us, following us slowly onto the shoulder of the road until we stop.

Raif puts his foot down to steady the bike, but we don’t dismount. The truck door slams, and a tall, male shadow in a ball cap walks slowly to where we are. His body is straight and fit in jeans and a dark, long-sleeved shirt, and his boots crunch on the sandy gravel.

“Get off the bike, please,” Aiden Stone orders from the darkness like a drill sergeant.

He is not smiling, and the muscle in his square jaw is tense.

Raif puts the kickstand down and helps me off the bike. We stand beside it as Aiden pauses, first to study me and then to cut his eyes to Raif.

“Where have you been?” His voice is sharp, almost like he’s been searching for us.

“We were just riding on the beach—” I start.

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