Page 25

Chapter 24

NINE MONTHS IN HIDING

“Merry Christmas Eve! Are you—” I halted in the doorway of the living room when I saw the blotchiness on Eden’s face. Walking slowly toward her, I crouched beside the couch. “What’s wrong?”

“Just… you know… missing my family. I’m okay though.” She swiped at a few stray tears and pushed a brave smile across her lips.

I glanced down at the phone in her lap and saw that she was watching one of the videos of Auburn and her dad. At my request, the guys I’d hired to keep an eye on her family occasionally sent clips of the Bouviers, and true to my word, I sent them on to Eden. She usually enjoyed watching them, but I knew the holidays would be hard for her.

“We don’t have to go tonight,” I told her.

Eden shook her head. “No, it’ll be fun. And a nice distraction.”

I nodded and reached for her hand to pull her to her feet. “We can leave any time you want. Just give me a signal.”

“Like press the Dark Mark on my forearm?” she asked with faux sweetness, referring to Voldemort’s mark on the Death Eaters from the Harry Potter novels.

I gave her a light push between her shoulder blades. “Go get ready, smartass. I got you something special to wear. It’s on the bed.” Our bed. Because once I’d staked my claim there in September, I hadn’t left.

Using my old room to dress, I put on the black suit I’d bought, along with a starched white button-down and no tie before going back to the living room to wait.

Thirty minutes later, my jaw fell to the damn floor. Eden walked into the room with more confidence than any nineteen-year-old had any right to have. I guessed that stemmed from her upbringing in the Bouvier family. Though her father had kept his kids mostly out of the public eye, Eden had told me that they had been taken to the occasional gala or fundraising event once they were teens and they were expected to attend parties at the Bouvier estate from a young age.

“Thank you for the jumpsuit. I can’t believe you got me a Bouvier. ”

“I wanted you to feel…” I shrugged, unable to find the exact words, but she nodded in understanding.

The outfit was a pretty crimson, fitted through the bodice and flaring at the calves, with just enough sparkles to make it perfect for a holiday party. The peep toe heels I’d ordered for her matched the jumpsuit, and each had a tiny silver bow adorning the top.

She’d used more eye makeup than usual, the eyeliner forming perfect wings over mile-long lashes. Her lips were the deepest red, somewhere between black and cherry, and they looked absolutely delicious. Her hair was different too. Instead of the messy, edgy look she usually rocked, tonight it was smooth and controlled, molded into a dark cap that was sexy as fuck.

“Eden, you look…” I brushed a hand over my chest as I walked slowly toward her, letting my eyes eat her up. “You look like I might have to go back on my promise not to kill any more people.”

She giggled. “Please try and control yourself. It will mostly be older folks there.”

“Yeah, hopefully they’ll all have cataracts and won’t be able to see how beautiful my wife looks.”

Tilting her chin down a notch, she looked up at me with her big, brown eyes. “My husband looks pretty wonderful too.”

My fucking heart almost fell out of my chest and at her feet. My husband . That was the first time she’d used those words in private.

“I wasn’t sure what to do with my hair,” I said, and she tilted her head, regarding me as she drifted her fingers through the strands over one ear.

“Will you let me fix it?”

Fuck yes.

“You’re not going to put one of those glittery things in it, are you?” I asked, indicating the red-and-silver rhinestone clip that was holding her hair away from her perfect face on one side.

“Of course not,” she scoffed, taking my hand and leading me to our bathroom. “I have a perfectly respectable velvet bow. Or maybe I’ll do space buns. That would be cute.”

“Space what?” I almost shrieked, a moment of panic coursing through my chest. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Unless… “You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?”

Eden pulled the chair from beneath the knee space and pushed me down onto it. She was slightly taller than me when I was seated, and she blinked guileless brown eyes down at me.

“Would I do that?” Her voice was a teasing coo, and I didn’t bother answering because of course she would .

Motherfucking hell, I wanted to kiss that smug smile off her pretty little mouth. Smear that dark lipstick all over my own lips and then leave a trail of it down her body as I went on a treasure hunt for the promised land.

And now I’ve got a boner situation. Great.

Shifting slightly to accommodate my growing length, I watched as Eden rummaged through the top drawer and pulled out a pink hairbrush. Her hairbrush. There was something so intimate about her using her own brush on my hair, and I closed my eyes and relaxed into the moment, letting her do whatever the hell she wanted to me.

After draping a towel around my shoulders, she worked some kind of product through my hair with nimble fingers. It smelled fresh and cool, citrus and maybe mint? Eden hummed a Christmas tune while she smoothed and brushed, and my neck was pliant, allowing her to turn my head as she wished.

Peeking one eye open, I watched her as she worked, her tongue working back and forth over the small scar that bisected her bottom lip. Finally, she stepped back, tilting her head from one side to the other while she assessed her handiwork.

“Yeah,” she said to herself with a pleased smile, backing away and doing a little hand flourish. “What do you think?”

I looked at myself in the mirror and remembered my sister telling me this style was called half up-half down . The top was pulled back and fashioned into a ponytail at the back of my head, looking more tousled than slick. The bottom half of my dark hair was left loose, and whatever product she’d added brought out the latent curls, which hung almost to my shoulders. The look was a little wild and a lot stylish, like something a long-haired celebrity might wear with his tuxedo on the red carpet.

And then I noticed something else. “Is that… a braid?” I asked with trepidation, turning my head slightly to see the tiny plait on one side. It started over my right ear and was pulled back and fastened into the black rubber band that held my ponytail.

I brought my eyes slowly to Eden’s, wondering if she was messing with me, but her heated gaze told me she wasn’t. With her teeth sunk into her bottom lip, she nodded.

“I think it looks hot,” she breathed, and any doubts I had about wearing a freaking braid vanished in a puff of desire.

“Then I love it,” I said, standing and dropping a kiss on her nose. “You’ve elevated me from about a three to at least a solid five, so thank you for that.”

Eden snorted out a laugh. “You’re way more than a five, Dane.”

Would it be douchey to ask for an actual rating from her? Yeah, definitely a douchebag move.

She pulled the towel from my shoulders, and her gaze snagged on my suit. Trailing her fingers down to the signature buttons on my black jacket, she rubbed a circle on one with her thumb.

“You’re wearing a Bouvier suit,” she murmured.

“You know, just supporting your family’s business,” I replied, and when Eden lifted her face, her eyes were soft and suspiciously damp.

“That just shot you to a big, fat nine, buddy.” Then she looked up at my hair again, and her tongue darted out to wet her lips. “But the braid makes you a ten.”

Note to self: find a YouTube tutorial on how to braid hair.

I’ve never particularly enjoyed holiday parties, but the one at Charles and Mimsy’s house on Christmas Eve was actually fun. The food was stellar, the drinks were flowing, and the company was nice. Well, except for Chad .

I tried not to glare at Mrs. Walker from down the street simply because she’d invited her fucking great-nephew, Chad , to come along to the soirée. He was in town, ostensibly to visit with his widowed aunt, but I knew his real game. The asshole was in town to prey on the unsuspecting women of Marathon, namely, my wife. Mine .

The problem was that he reminded me of… me. Well, the me of a year ago. Fake smile. Wearing a suit that was a little too slick. Flirty touches. I sighed internally when I found the tall blond in the small crowd. Like he’s doing right now.

Strolling over to one of the food tables, I stepped in between Eden and Chad , slipping my arm around my wife. “Hi, baby,” I said, turning my back on the sleezeball and kissing Eden softly on the lips. Not on the nose this time because I was staking a claim here. That required me to level up.

She looked startled for a moment, and then a knowing smirk curled the corners of her mouth. “Hi. What’s up?” But she knew what was up.

“I wanted a piece of cheese,” I explained, picking up a cube of gouda and popping it into my mouth. From the periphery of my vision, I noticed Chad cross the living room to bother someone else. Good fucking riddance.

“You know, I expected it to be warmer,” Eden mused, stroking a hand down the red fabric over her hip.

My brow furrowed. “The cheese?”

Her grin grew even wider. “No, where you just peed on me.”

“Jesus, Eden,” I chuckled with a chagrined shake of my head. “Was I that obvious?”

“Yes,” she said, patting me on the chest, “but you can make up for it by going with me to get another drink.” Her hand looped around my elbow as I guided us through the minglers to reach the bar set up in the corner.

Two guys in their early twenties greeted Eden by name, and my brows lowered. I thought this was supposed to be a block party. Who are all these young fuckers?

“Eden! You back for another Santa’s Sunrise?” the red-haired one chirped.

“Yes, please. Do you want one, Dane?” She turned her brown eyes up to me.

“Sure,” I clipped out.

The other bartender, this one with dark-brown hair and a gap between his front teeth, stuck out his hand, and I shook it. “You must be Dane. I’m Kevin, and this is Barry.” He jerked his chin toward his friend who was filling two festive glasses with orange juice. “I call him Straw-Barry. You know, because of his hair.”

“And I call him asshole. You know, because of his personality,” Barry retorted dryly, making me laugh.

Eden bumped me with her hip. “I was telling them about your tiramisù. Kevin and Barry work at Charles’s bakery.”

“She said it’s divine,” Barry said as he added tequila and then topped it with grenadine. “If you accidentally make two pans next time, we’d be happy to take the spare off your hands.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” I told them, relaxing a little because I wasn’t getting that flirting with my wife vibe from these two.

I stayed close to Eden for the rest of the night, and as the crowd thinned, we made our way over to Mimsy and Charles to say our goodbyes. Once I’d helped Eden into her jacket and we were outside, Eden stumbled a little, a giggle escaping from her lips as I steadied her with an arm around her waist.

“Oopsie!”

“Is Mrs. Osbourne drunk?” I asked, amused.

“Tipsy,” she corrected, tucking herself beneath my arm. I liked her like this, loose with her affection.

“You know you’re not even legal to drink,” I said, a playful taunt in my tone.

“My license says I’m twenty-two,” she argued, her feet pausing as her eyes went to the two-story home on the other side of the Mimses. Like they always did. It was the palest of yellows but looked white in the blue haze of the moon. Eden called it “the butter house” because she said it was the color of whipped butter.

I let her look her fill until she shivered. It was in the sixties, which was typical for winter evenings in the Florida Keys, but we’d both grown accustomed to the more temperate climate over the past nine months.

Eden was giggly as we got ready for bed, and I wished for the millionth time that we were husband and wife in every way. I’d love to have a wild, playful romp between the sheets with her. But instead, we ended up in our normal position, me on my side and her curled up against my back.

“What were you laughing about in the bathroom?” I asked.

I felt her chuckle against my back. “I was thinking of how you acted when Brad was flirting with me.”

It took me a second. “I thought his name was Chad.”

I felt the vibration of her hum on my spine. “Hmmm, maybe. I thought it was Brad.”

There were no words to describe how happy it made me that she didn’t even remember that dickwad’s name. It was definitely Chad. The name was imprinted in my mind.

“Fucker is lucky I left my gun at home,” I muttered.

She giggled again and moved her hand up to my chest, fingers toying with the hair between my pecs. “I’m proud of you for not being shooty.”

A smile quirked my lips. “Go to sleep, Eden.”

The sun was barely peeking through a gap in the curtains when I woke up with a hand moving over my body. A small hand. Eden. She was touching me, and I tried to keep my breathing even so she didn’t know I was awake.

Fleeting touches over my shoulder turned into curious squeezes of my biceps before trailing down and tracing the veins of my forearm. It was a slow, inquisitive exploration that I had no intention of stopping.

Inching her fingers down my ribs, Eden looped her arm around me and slid her palm up and down my torso a few times before rolling one of my nipples between her thumb and middle finger. Jesus fucking hell. She made a quiet sound from the back of her throat when her hips pressed forward against my ass, and I had to suppress a moan of my own. Is she turned on? I sure as fuck was, my cock throbbing against the confines of my underwear.

Then her hand moved lower, to my abdomen, her index finger bumping slowly over each ab muscle on one side and then the other, as if she were counting them. Then she was touching my happy trail, and she was so fucking close to where I longed for her to be. When she crept her hand a little lower, I finally spoke.

“Sweetheart, if you lower your hand another inch, you’re going to find out exactly how much I like being in bed with you.”

She stilled her hand, pausing for a long moment, and I wondered if maybe she had been touching me in her sleep. But then she took that last inch, moving her fingers over the tip of my erection that was peeking out the top of my boxer briefs.

A hiss seeped out from between my teeth before I groaned her name. “Eden.”

“Do you want me to stop?” she asked, her words as tentative as her hand.

“Absolutely not,” I answered before she’d even stopped talking.

The scrape of teeth on my shoulder blade came at the same time Eden’s thumb swirled around the head of my cock, drawing out a thick bead of sticky fluid. She smeared it around the tip three times before lowering her hand another couple inches to cup my shaft over my underwear.

“Fuck,” my voice trembled as she took my measure, giving me a squeeze that made my balls clench.

“You’re thick,” she whispered, her warm breath gusting against my back.

That proclamation brought images to the forefront of my mind… dirty, sweaty images of two bodies moving in the dim light of morning. Thoughts of stretching her with that thickness, making her pussy accommodate me, induced another gush of pre-cum to ease out and pool on my stomach.

Eden’s fingers skittered up and down my cloth-covered dick, from my balls all the way back to my crown, before sliding her fingertips into the waistband of my briefs.

“Is this okay or am I overstepping?” she asked.

Rolling onto my back, I looked over at her, noting the way she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. Does she actually think I would say no to her? To this? I cupped the back of her head, sinking my fingers into the mess of her hair.

“Eden, I think of you while I’m jerking off in the shower every single morning. So this…” I gripped her wrist and pushed her hand farther into my underwear until her palm was resting against the length of me, earning me a gasp from her. “Having you touch me is a fucking dream come true. And anything you could do to me wouldn’t even come close to the filth I think of while I’m stroking my cock to thoughts of you. So, to answer your question, no, you’re not overstepping.”

Her eyes were wide with shock, but the blue pools darkened slightly at my words even as the prettiest pink shade ascended her neck and coated her cheeks. Then she smiled… sweet and a little bit shy, which made my cock twitch against her hand. My bold girl had a bashful side, and it turned me the fuck on.

With my free hand, I worked my briefs down my thighs and kicked them off beneath the covers. Then I peeled back the sheet to expose myself with Eden’s hand pressed against me. I studied her as she looked down, as her tongue slipped out to wet her lips. That tiny peek of pink and the slickness it left there was about the sexiest thing I’d ever seen.

Drawing my gaze down, I watched as she wrapped her fingers around my shaft and gave me a small, testing stroke. Her hand didn’t quite reach all the way around my girth, which only made me harder. Because yeah, I’m a guy.

“Feels good, baby girl,” I encouraged on a shaky breath.

On my admission, her next movement was less tentative, a long stroke from my base to my tip. Eden sat up, curling her legs beneath her, eyes rapt on what she was doing. Her movements were unhurried, as if she were learning my cock with every touch.

Up and down, up and down. The tiny twists of her wrist. I was mesmerized by all of it. Her free hand drifted up my abdomen, almost absently, fingers tenderly caressing the hard planes of my body.

“You’re beautiful,” she murmured.

Tugging on her hair until she looked up at me, I rasped, “Not nearly as beautiful as you, sweetheart. You make it hard for me to breathe.” I pulled her toward me, needing to taste her mouth, but after giving me only a soft peck, she pulled back, turning her attention back to what her hand was doing between my legs.

Not that I was complaining about a hand job, for fuck’s sake, but I wanted a kiss. Maybe she was self-conscious about morning breath.

Eden gripped me a little tighter and continued pleasuring me with long, slow strokes, her eyes occasionally flashing to me, watching for my reaction.

“That feels so fucking good, sweetheart,” I assured her.

I’d always thought I was the master of my own body, that I knew how to masturbate and bring myself pleasure better than anyone. After all, it was my cock. But I was sorely mistaken. My rough, quick strokes were nothing compared to Eden’s hand wrapping around my dick, gliding with aching slowness. There was something so sensual, so intimate, about watching her fuck me with her small, soft grip.

As her left hand continued its up and down motion, she covered the end of my erection with her right hand, swirling her palm around to smooth the drops of my desire over the crown before sliding it down to double-fist me. The dual sensations had my eyes rolling back in my head.

“You’re close,” she murmured, gaze glued to her hands on my cock. When she reached down to cup my balls, the fingers of my free hand fisted in the sheet, curling so tightly my knuckles ached. I didn’t want this to end, but she was right. I was about to fucking blow.

My dick swelled in her grasp, blood pulsing hard and fast along my length. Eden never sped up, keeping her unhurried pace as my juices lubricated the slide of her hand.

“Fuck, baby,” I growled, my voice a plaintive rasp in my throat. “Coming. For you.” Pressing my head back into the pillow, I gritted my teeth and closed my eyes.

My brain went numb, unable to think of anything but the pure pleasure as a full-body orgasm convulsed through me. “Eden,” I cried, lifting my hips as spurt after spurt landed on my chest and stomach.

“God, that’s so hot,” I heard her say, gliding her fingers through the puddle on my abdomen and glossing my stomach with my own desire. I peeled my eyes open to watch her, my mouth watering to taste her. And that was the plan… as soon as I caught my breath.

But right then, I was completely spent, my muscles as loose as a taut rubber band that’s been suddenly snapped in half. And I’d never been happier.