Page 57 of Love Without Control

“Don’t be ridiculous. I made it for you to eat. We’ll take some to Charles and Mimsy too when we return the brownie plate.”

“Are there enough for Charlisse and Cooper too?”

Dane gave me a flat look and gestured toward the two dozen cupcakes on the counter. “I think we could manage to spare a few.” Then his brow furrowed and he turned to the leftover white frosting before separating it, adding food color gel, and stirring it in. Four minutes later, he had created a perfect three-dimensional replica of Cooper’s red and yellow Nerf football on the top of one.

“How the hell do you do that?” I asked incredulously. This man’s big hands were super talented in the delicate art of decorating.

“It’s easy once you get the hang of it,” he said, leaning both forearms on the other side of the breakfast bar, facing me. I valiantly refrained from looking at the combination of pretty ink, masculine hair, and thick veins.Mostly refrained.He nodded toward my still untouched cupcake. “You gonna eat that or stare at it all day?”

“I thought I’d stare at it,” I shot back smartly. Dane reached for my treat, and I smacked his hand. “Bah! Hands off. I’ll eat it.” I picked it up, pulled back the foil-paper cup, and took a large bite. The frosting was piled so high, my nose ended up in the sugary dollop.

“Well?” Dane asked anxiously.

“Ohmygurd,” I mumbled around the mouthful of pure heaven. “Give me a minute; my tongue is having an orgasm.” The frosting was rich and sweet, the cake moist, buttery, and cloud-like.

His voice was low and deep as his brown eyes dropped to my mouth. “I like seeing you enjoy my flavors.” The words sounded distinctly dirty, and I lifted my free hand to swipe at my nose. Dane stopped me with a hand wrapped around my wrist before stretching across the countertop and sucking the frosting from my nose.

He sucked it. From. My. Nose. With his mouth. Sweet Jesus.

“Dane,” I said in my best scolding voice, which wasn’t very effective, to be honest. I sounded like a breathless damsel.

“It’s my job to keep my wife clean,” he replied with his smug-ass lips… which he was now licking.Why does everything he says sound like an innuendo?Then, like he’d done that night Charles and Mimsy were over, he kissed the tip of my nose.

Touching the spot with the tips of my fingers, I asked, “Are you obsessed with my nose or something?”

“It’s a really cute nose,” he replied, as if that explained it. “It should be cherished.”

“Gee, I’m honored,” I said, going in for another bite, which was as delectable as the first. “Seriously, this is the best cupcake I’ve ever had. It might be my new favorite dessert.”

Looking scandalized, he whispered, “Don’t worry. I won’t tell the tiramisù you’re cheating on it.” He was only inches from my face, and his words brushed against my lips on a sweet breeze of sugar and vanilla. “May I?”

I thought he was asking permission to kiss me, and I nodded dumbly—whyyy did I do that?—but he simply bent his head and took a bite of the cupcake I was still holding. A wave of something akin to disappointment washed over me, but I ignored it.

“Mmm,” he hummed speculatively, and that soft noise was distinctly sexual. Or maybe I was just delusional and needy. “Might add a drop more vanilla to the batter next time.”

Clearing my throat, as if that would clear the wayward thoughts from my mind, I said, “Definitely. I could only eat seven of these in one sitting without that extra drop of vanilla.” Then I pretended to shudder in revulsion, earning me a laugh from Dane.

“You’re a smartass, little Wildcat.” He didn’t look mad about it though. The grin on his lips told me he appreciated my cheekiness. Which was fortunate because I grew up with two brothers. Smartass was a required mode for survival.

“Well, you have frosting in your beard,” I retorted.

“Where?” he asked, making no move to wipe it away.

“Right there.” I pointed, my finger less than an inch away from the pink blob.

“Get it for me.” It was a command rather than a request, and my obedient finger swiped it away. Before I could register a coherent thought about what I was doing, I stuck my finger in my mouth and sucked.

Dane’s eyes hooded and dropped to my lips, following the glide of my wet finger from my mouth with intense interest.

“Thank you, wife,” he said softly. “Wouldn’t want your husband to be all dirty, would you?”

Yes!

Jiminy Christmas, Evie. Eden. Whatever the hell my name is now.I was obviously not in my right mind.

Bolstering my spine, I pushed my stool back and stood. “Nope. Definitely can’t have that.” I began placing the pink cupcakes on Charles and Mimsy’s platter. “Why don’t you finish decorating while I plate these?”And stare at your large, rough fingers squeezing that piping bag like…

Gaaah! Stop it right now, woman!

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