Free Criminal Instinct by Kelly Lynn Parra Page B

hanging from his thick neck—and a good-looking redhead. By the way the guy tried to cop a feel from each woman, he was dancing in sleaze heaven.
    Tension radiated up Jonas’s back.
    Two attractive women and one man. Hands roamed, bodies brushed. A sensual vibe floated off them and onto their audience.
    If he’d wanted a sideshow, he would have hired an act himself.
    Pushing closer, he reached out and grabbed the thief’s slim arm, intent on turning her around to face him. But hell, when he pulled her toward him, she countered with her own maneuver, breaking his hold and stepping away. The action was as fluid as her dance, and just as unexpected.
    Her defined eyebrows lowered in a scowl, eyes skewering him like jeweled daggers. Annoyance flickered in her gaze before her shoulders visibly relaxed.
    Not the usual reaction he received from women.
    A heavy hand slammed down on his shoulder. Jonas tensed.
    The Don Juan.
    Motioning to Joseph, he turned toward Don and raised his voice over the music. “Problem?”
    “Yeah, I got a problem,” Don hollered back, his mono-brow nearly swallowing his small eyes. “I’m dancing with the broad.”
    “Not anymore.” Jonas stared at him hard. Cold.
    The guy sneered, stepping forward.
    Jonas shifted on his feet.
    “Hey, big guy,” the redhead said to Don. “You and I can dance just fine on our own.” She winked at her friend, the thief, before pulling Don away. The crowd lost interest and melted back into the throng of dancers.
    Petite hands moved up Jonas’s shoulders. The thief’s body brushed against him, her small breasts level with his torso.
    He looked down at her, willing his body to relax. Her mouth, slicked with maroon, curved up, a little crooked. Cute. Her lashes had been thickened, yet that and the lip color were the only enhancements. She didn’t need makeup. Could be the different nationalities in her heritage mixed together to make that interesting face… Something about her drew the eye.
    Since her previous attitude had vanished, he took it as a green light to grip her narrow waist. At his touch, she faltered a moment before regaining the motions of her hips. Her body moved to the music with him, with subtle touches of her body against his. Soft, yet firm, the material of her dress slid under his fingers. He was accustomed to larger-hipped women, so it was a bit of a jolt to be holding someone so petite. If he hadn’t witnessed her fighting off a man nearly twice her height, he would have thought her fragile.
    What the hell caused this one-eighty? Earlier, at the pier, she’d been a spiteful brat, but now…
    Her breasts bumped his chest, her fingers gliding onto his neck. His body stirred, reacted. He looked at her wet lips. Soft looking, sweet. He wanted a taste.
    Maybe he wanted it too much.
    In the middle of moving bodies, heat consumed him. The first sign of perspiration prickled down his back. He frowned as the music blared around them. Biting back an oath, he took her wrist and started off the dance floor. He needed air.
    She planted her feet.
    He turned and leaned down to her ear. A delicate whiff of strawberry scent drifted from her, along with the subtle scent of feminine sweat. “I just want to talk.”
    He met her guarded gaze.
    The music pulsed around them. Anticipation curled inside him. He wanted her alone, without any distractions.
    When she gave a nod, he headed straight for the nearest exit. He pushed open the door and the cold air wrapped around his neck with icy fingers.
    Damn. Too cold.
    An apology nearly left his tongue when she bit out, “What are we doing out here?”
    He narrowed his gaze, which traveled lower down her body. He cursed out loud at what he saw.
    It was either curse or fall on all fours begging.
    “Don’t you have anything on under that dress?”
    What the hell was it about her that attracted him? So what if her nipples pebbled against her dress like an open invitation? They weren’t the first he’d seen, and no