Total pages in book: 34
Estimated words: 32533 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 163(@200wpm)___ 130(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32533 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 163(@200wpm)___ 130(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
Of course, I know better than to think she’ll magically transform into a picture of congeniality overnight, so I chartered a private jet to bring me back to Chicago as soon as my last meeting finished up.
It’s a little after two in the morning when I finally step through the front door. I roll my suitcase through the foyer and into the hall as silently as possible. The pleasant aroma of French-onion soup lingers in the air. I vaguely recall my chef, Estella, mentioning that Eden had requested it a few times since the weather turned freezing.
Leaving my suitcase in the hall, I head into the kitchen and pour myself a nightcap, sending a prayer to whatever god is listening that it’ll be enough to calm my nerves. I take my drink into the darkened living room, then freeze when my gaze lands on something large, bulky, and unfamiliar beside the fireplace.
“What the hell?”
I switch on the light.
I’m taken aback by the sight of a tall, broad, beautifully decorated Christmas tree. I move closer, searching for a switch or a plug. Instead, I find a small white remote control on the mantel. As I press the power button, I can’t help but smile as the already magnificent tree becomes even more brilliant.
“Well, damn…”
Glancing around the space, I see that the decorations don’t stop at the tree. Nearly every spare surface in the room has been Christma-fied. It all looks so warm and inviting, so unlike my usual cold, functional, simplistic style. My heart swells as I run my hand across the red and green quilt resting on the back of the leather sofa.
I don’t have to wonder if Eden did this. Deep in my soul, I know this is her doing.
She’s made my house a home.
I can practically see her now, dressed in a dark green sweater that makes her blue eyes pop. She would hear me enter the room and gaze up at me with a face so full of joy and kindness.
“What do you think, Christian?” she’d ask, holding out two differently colored ribbons for me to choose from. As I skimmed my fingers across the ribbon—not stopping at her hand, her wrist, her forearm—she would bite her lip.
“Pick whichever one you’d like to see wrapped around your wrists, baby girl.”
I groan and turn away from the fantasy, but it’s too late. I’m already picturing Eden tied up in ribbons with a large bow sitting just below her navel. My pants tighten substantially as I imagine loosening the bow to reveal my present…
“Get yourself together,” I grumble, and finish the rest of my drink.
I switch off the lights and make my way back to the kitchen in the dark. I place the empty glass in the sink, collect my bags, and head toward my bedroom, careful not to make too much noise. Halfway down the hall, I hesitate before a closed door, my body thrumming with tension and something hungrier.
It’s too risky, I tell myself. Just keep walking. You’ll see her tomorrow.
But my body refuses to obey. Tomorrow feels too distant when I know she’s right behind this door, waiting for me to kiss her, touch her, taste her. I can already feel how wet she’d be by the time I reached into her panties…
I turn toward Eden’s door and quietly ease it open. Her room is dark and silent, aside from her soft, rhythmic breaths. I step inside, careful not to let my suitcase bump the furniture. As my eyes adjust, I can easily make out Eden’s sleeping form.
The bed is soft underneath me as I sit down on the very edge.
My heart thumps in my chest as I gaze down at her face. The moonlight streaking through the window dusts across her cheeks like blush, making her skin glow. When she shifts, her lips get caught in the moonbeam, and I’m transfixed.
I lean down and brush my lips over hers, featherlight. She sighs in her sleep.
“Daddy’s home, baby girl,” I whisper.
I gently stroke her cheek and then continue down her neck, to her chest, all the way to the neckline of her tank top. A quiet groan rumbles up from my throat as I watch her nipples pebble, pushing at the thin fabric of her shirt like they’re begging for attention. My hands ache to give them the care they so desperately need.
I circle the small nubs with my thumbs a few times before I brush against them directly. Her nipples instantly grow harder, needier, stiff enough to pinch. Driven by her body’s obvious need, I grasp the pebbles between my thumb and forefinger and squeeze gently.
A moan floats from Eden’s lips.
Her eyelashes flutter.
“Daddy?” Her voice is light and sleepy.
I smile as a sense of contentedness surges through me. It’s been too long since she’s called me that.