Naughty & Nice | DJ Jamison
Cover Artist: Cate Ashwood
Release Date: November 19, 2020
Length: approx. 60,000 words
Heat Rating: 4 flames
Universal Link: http://mybook.to/JonasQuinn
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Why can’t I forget your kiss…
Why must I have these feelings for you? You’re my ex-stepbrother, and nothing will change that truth, no matter how many letters I write.
I never expected to see you again–or to rescue you from the side of the road in a blizzard. I didn’t think you would ever like me, much less kiss me in a steaming hot tub on a snowy night. It seems we make better lovers than brothers, which is all kinds of naughty and nice while we’re snowed in together.
But can this new intimacy last when the skies clear and my family finally arrives for the holidays, or are we just two guys in a mountain cabin with a great view of everything we want but can’t have?
Naughty & Nice is set in the same universe as Secret Admirer but stands alone.
“So, this is the hot tub,” I said, apropos of nothing.
“Yep,” he said, grinning. “Nothing gets by you.”
“I’m very observant that way,” I said, nodding seriously. I looked around as if taking in my surroundings, and when I got back to Jonas, I looked at him boldly, straight-on, my gaze skimming from his lips to his shoulders to his nipples, visible just above the water line.
He cleared his throat. “I’m starting to notice that.”
I wasn’t being subtle.
I’d angled for this to happen. To be in this hot tub with Jonas. I’d told him I wanted to soak away the cold in my bones, and that wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t entirely true either. I’d wanted to get closer to him. Wanted to feel another flash of the heat I was sure I’d seen in his eyes at dinner. Maybe it was an anomaly, and we’d have a soak and move on with our lives. Or maybe…
Maybe it’d combust, given the right circumstances.
To my frustration, Jonas’s phone chimed with a message. He looked away to pick it up. I watched as his lips quirked into a smile while he tapped out a response. He’d gotten a couple of these texts in the car too, tonight. It wasn’t like before, when he was avoiding messages. This was someone else.
“Who’s texting you?”
He glanced up, then irritatingly right back down to the phone. “No one important.”
I huffed. “They have a lot of your attention.” My stomach tightened. “Is it a hookup?”
Jonas didn’t answer immediately, and every second wound my insides a little bit tighter. If Jonas had someone in his life—or more than one, as his busy phone led me to believe—I wouldn’t be surprised. Why wouldn’t someone want him? He was effortlessly gorgeous; I’d seen him roll out of bed and ruffle his hair with his hand and look fabulous. That was it; his whole morning routine. And there I was in front of the mirror, trying to tame flyaway hairs and choosing my clothing with care. He was smart and self-reliant too. He didn’t bail on school or his future just because he was in a messy relationship. He dealt with life. Guys like him were never alone.
I edged closer, our legs brushing underwater. “Is it someone you’re serious about?”
“Nah, I don’t do serious.”
His eyes met mine and held. “Tried it once. It didn’t suit me.”
I suspected he meant me, even though that didn’t make any sense. We’d never had a relationship. We’d had one brief kiss, and that was it. Surely he hadn’t been serious about his stepbrother with a bad attitude? I must be reading too much into that look…
“So, you’re texting with a non-serious hookup?”
He set the phone aside, lips quirking. “A potential hookup. Guy lives near here—”
I slapped my hand onto the surface of the water. “Oh, hell no!”
He laughed a little in disbelief. “What?”
Something came over me. All the tension that had stretched between us, all my restraint, snapped.
“No,” I repeated. “No hookups with other guys while you’re here.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Other guys?”
I was busted. He saw right through me, to the jealousy I had no right to have. I sucked in my bottom lip, tasting the faint tang of chlorine from the water droplets that had misted my face.
“Go on, Quinn. If you’ve got something to say about my sex life, I’m all ears.”
My face flushed hot. Words of apology were on the tip of my tongue. It wasn’t my place; it was none of my business.
Unless I made it my business.
Pulse speeding up, I turned toward him. “I’ve got nothing to say.”
“No? Because it seemed—”
I pushed forward in a rush, letting my mouth do the talking. Our lips pressed, clung. Jonas’s breath caught as I licked his bottom lip. Then, as if I’d hit fast-forward on a video, he was all in. His hand clamped around the back of my neck, pulling me hard against him as he deepened the kiss. My blood leapt with the thrill of lust and adrenaline as his tongue slid along mine, tasting and teasing. Jonas was a skilled kisser, advancing and retreating, giving me just enough to want more, then changing tactics to wind me up all over again.
The kiss went on forever. One kiss blended into the next. We sipped air as we repositioned our mouths, kissing one direction, then the other.
I was burning up in the steamy water, and yet I was shivering as cold winter air brushed over my neck and shoulders.
Jonas grabbed my hips, dragging me into his lap. I felt how hard he was, and ground down against him until he groaned satisfyingly against my mouth.
“No.” I finally pulled back to look into his eyes. “I’m not baby, or honey, or any other thing you call your hookups. I’m Quinn.”
His voice was husky but soft as he responded. “Quinn.”
I shivered to hear my name in that sexy, velvet tone.
“You sure you want to do this with me?” he asked. “I know we’re not related by blood, but…”
Was I sure it was a good idea? No. But did I want it? Desperately.
“We’re not brothers.”
About the Author
DJ Jamison writes romances about everyday life and extraordinary love featuring a variety of queer characters, from gay to bisexual to asexual. DJ grew up in the Midwest in a working-class family, and those influences can be found in her writing through characters coping with real-life problems: money troubles, workplace drama, family conflicts and, of course, falling in love.
DJ spent more than a decade in the newspaper industry before chasing her first dream to write fiction. She spent a lifetime reading before that and continues to avidly devour her fellow authors’ books each night. She lives in Kansas with her husband, two sons, one snake, and a sadistic cat named Birdie.
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