Page 46 of Love Without Control

Something brushed my lips.His lips, I realized.What the hell is happening right now, and why am I not pushing him away?

My body stiffened, and when I placed my hands on his chest to do just that, he shifted, holding me up with one strong arm. Then he cupped the side of my neck, his thumb drawing a mesmerizing line over my jaw that had my stiffness ebbing away.

It wasn’t an open-mouthed kiss. His lips simply moved against mine, tiny pulls that would have counted as suction if they hadn’t been so tender and slow. When he finally broke away, I noticed my hands had found their way to the back of his head, my fingers tangled in the thick, dark locks that hung halfway down the nape of his neck.

How the hell did that happen?

Removing them, I scowled at Dane. “What. Was. That?”

He ran his tongue over his top lip before sucking the bottom one into his mouth. A smug grin morphed onto his face as he slowly rolled that full bottom lip out, leaving a trace of moisture there.

“A kiss.” Then he fucking winked at me. “For the pictures.”

Oh. Right. The pictures.I’d forgotten about that for a second.

“You can put me down now,” I said curtly, feeling heat creep up the back of my neck and around to the front.

He did, but he took his damn time about it, letting me slide down his body. I ignored the ridges of his abs I felt on the way down. Didn’t want to think too much about what was beneath that shirt of his. Nope. Didn’t want to think about that at all. Instead, I took a large step back and turned my attention to the couple standing a few feet away.

“These look great, you guys,” Jamie said, peering at the display screen on Robert’s camera. “Nice touch with the kiss. Very convincing.”

“What kind of wedding would it be if I didn’t kiss my wife?” Dane asked, still wearing that infuriating smirk.

“Fakewife,” I reminded him, and he had the nerve to lick his lips again. “Can we go now?” Without waiting for an answer, I stalked up the beach and toward the parking lot.

Damn you, Dane, with your soft lips and hard body. Damn you, I say.

Chapter 15

Aswecrossedontothe Seven Mile Bridge in the Florida Keys, Eden sat up straighter, her eyes roaming the dark-blue water and beyond. It really was an awe-inspiring sight.

“There’s a swing span on this bridge that allows boats to go through,” Eden told me. “In 1977, it got stuck open, causing a delay in traffic for more than three hours. Want to guess who was on the bridge at the time?”

“Santa Claus.”

“Nooo,” she lamented. “It was a musician.”

“Britney Spears.”

Eden shook her head. “She wasn’t even alive yet in 1977. She was born in 1981.”

“Ah, well. Excuse me for not knowing that. Why don’t you tell me?”

She crossed her arms over her chest and grinned knowingly. “Jimmy Buffett. He apparently was on the way to Key West when the bridge mishap occurred, and he sat on the hood of his car and wrote ‘Margaritaville’ to pass the time.”

“No freaking way,” I uttered, amazed at the wealth of knowledge this woman possessed.

“Yes freaking way. And he asked Elvis Presley to record the song, but Elvis died that year.”

I shook my head. “Nope, I couldn’t imagine The King singing ‘Margaritaville.’ It just wouldn’t be the same without Jimmy’s iconic voice.”

“Agreed,” she said, turning her face to look out the side window.

We rode in comfortable silence until I pulled up in front of a one-story stucco home painted in a pretty blue color with clean, white trim. “I think this is it,” I said, double checking the number on the mailbox.

“Wow. It’s nice,” Eden said, peering out with wide eyes. “I was picturing more of a small cottage.”

We climbed out of the charcoal-gray Toyota 4Runner onto a concrete driveway. Robert had taken Guido’s car to a chop shop, so it was no more. I’d purchased this one in cash yesterday at a used car lot near Jacksonville.

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