Page 78 of Love Without Control

“Eden?” My feet stalled at Dane’s voice.

I faced the open bathroom door, not turning around. “Yeah?”

“You okay?”

Plastering a smile on my face, I looked over my shoulder.Big mistake.Dane was lying there, legs spread apart and towel covering his private parts. He looked like a large, lethal cat, one that could take me down with a single bite. My core clenched at the thought.

You’re such a perv, Eden.

“I’m fine.”

His gaze held mine for a long moment before he nodded. “Okay. Go shower, and I’ll put the cinnamon buns in the oven. Then we can open presents.” Something lit in his brown eyes, something almost childlike. Excitement, maybe?

We’d talked about family Christmas traditions last week, and Dane had admitted that he and his family hadn’t really celebrated in any significant way since his mother died. His father transferred a thousand dollars into his and Fiero’s accounts, and that was that.

With some gentle prodding, he told me his mother used to let each kid open one present on Christmas Eve, and then they ate cinnamon buns by the tree the next morning while opening the rest of their gifts. My heart hurt for him, so I suggested we follow that tradition for our first Christmas together.

He’d given me the dress and shoes last night, and I’d given him a fancy new stand mixer, one I saw him eyeing last time we went to the kitchen store he liked to frequent.

“Sounds good,” I said, going into the bathroom and closing the door behind me. Turning on the shower, I undressed and stepped beneath the steamy spray. After washing and conditioning my hair, I soaped up the washcloth and began cleaning my body. When I moved the rag between my legs, I gasped at the aching sensation I found there.

Shit. Jacking him off had turned me on as much as it had him, but while he’d found his release, I was still sexually frustrated. Maybe I should have taken him up on his offer. Lord knew I wanted to.

With a wet plop, I dropped the cloth on the floor of the shower and ran my soap-slick fingers over my sex, finding my clit with ease. It was swollen and hot, ready to be touched.Fuck it. I need some relief.

“God,” I moaned quietly when my middle finger circled around the needy bud. This wasn’t going to take long; I was already halfway there just from feeling Dane’s slick, engorged cock in my hands. I’d never seen one that big. Not in real life anyway. What would that feel like inside me? It was much larger than my pink vibrator, which I’d started hiding in a shoe box in my closet now that Dane and I shared a bedroom.

I slid my middle finger inside my sex, the slender hole hungrily sucking my entire digit in. “God, Dane. Fuck me,” I whispered, pressing my cheek against the damp red tiles. But one finger wasn’t enough to simulate what that big dick would feel like inside me, so I added two more.

Wincing at the uncomfortable tightness, I pursed my lips and panted in and out as I took my time, my body slowly acclimating to the fullness. The hint of pain began to morph into pleasure, a raw, greedy thing that took over my body as I added some thumb action to my clit.

My mind pictured Dane behind me, thrusting hard and deep, soft grunts of bliss emanating from his full lips as he fucked me. I imagined those eight-pack abs of his—yes, I counted them—tensing with each roll of his hips. His hand gripped my chin and turned my head so his mouth could take mine in a searing kiss, our tongues tangling with carnal thrashes.

I came with a soft cry less than a minute later and had to brace a palm on the wall to keep from collapsing with relief.

I tried to brush away the guilt for wanting the things I wanted. I was supposed to hate Dane. After all, it was his father’s fault I wouldn’t be spending this Christmas with my family, that my entire life had changed for god knows how long. I hung my head, letting the hot water course over my neck and down my back as a voice inside my head reminded me that he wasn’t his father. That Dane had never treated me badly, only with kindness.

And, despite my constant snarkiness with him, I was beginning to actually like him. A lot.

Damn, I’m in so much trouble.

Dane was like a kid on… well, on Christmas morning, as we sat on the floor in front of our Christmas tree and opened gifts. He stared in awe at the bottle of rare bourbon in his hand, the tiny blue lights on the tree casting an azure glow against the side of his face.

“Pappy Van Winkle? Eden, where the hell did you find this?”

I shrugged nonchalantly, though I couldn’t help the pride that swelled inside me from his reaction. “With a little help from our computer whiz friend.”

He laughed. “I should have known Robert would have something to do with this.” Cradling the bottle with both hands, he read the label again, shaking his head back and forth. “I can’t believe you got this for me. My grandpa on my mother’s side had a bottle of this that he only broke out on special occasions.”

“Like your eighteenth birthday,” I said, remembering him telling me that story a couple months ago.

Dane was still staring at the bottle, lost in his memories. “Yeah, he called me to his office and poured us both two fingers of whiskey. It felt so… important that he was sharing his prized bottle with me.” His lips twisted into a crooked smile. “I wasn’t even old enough to drink, so that made me feel even more like a big shot.”

“You’d never drank before that?” I asked, and he released a loud guffaw.

“Fuck yes, I had. Fiero used to buy me liquor because he was older. He told me it would put hair on my balls.”

“How charming,” I said flatly. “So, I’m assuming your brother doesn’t believe in manscaping?”

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