Dangerous Control Read online

  “Are you crying?”

  I swallowed and shook my head. “No. Well, a little. It’s the way you play.” I swiped at another tear before it could fall. “Please, don’t stop.”

  He put the bow to the strings, studying me, and played a few more notes. I don’t know what he saw in my eyes. Whatever it was, it was more than I wanted to show him.

  “Please don’t cry,” he said, looking away.

  “I’m sorry. It’s just you and that violin…and you make violins…and Stradivari made this violin so many years ago… God, there’s something about the connectedness of it, and the way music lives on and on and on.”

  He played a little more, a smile teasing at the edges of his lips. “You’ve always been so dramatic, Lilly-Alice.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “I like it. I never know what you’re going to say.” Milo trailed off on a vibrato, lifted the bow and rested the instrument on his knee. “In the car, when you said you thought of your violin as a heart that’s beating…” He fixed his eyes on mine, dark and fierce. “It’s what I’ve always thought too, the exact metaphor, and you put it into words.”

  The hair on my arms rose. “Well, you played like that for my father, like everything was from the heart. You played like that just now.”

  “It’s a Stradivarius. If you’re not going to play it with heart, why play it at all?” He handed it to me, forcing it into my trembling fingers when I shook my head.

  “I can’t. It won’t be as beautiful as you. I mean, as the way you played.”

  I was coming apart and I didn’t know why. As I stood there, helpless, Milo guided the violin up under my chin. “Play it, Alice.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  We stared at each other. I’d never been good at hiding my feelings. He had to know I desired him with every cell of my being, and that I was too frightened to play because there was so much longing and meaning in this moment.

  “I wish we could get married,” I said, another renegade tear rolling down my cheek. “I don’t want to play your violin. I want to…” I want to play you. I want your face to look that way because you love me. “If we got married, I’d be able to hear you play like that anytime I want.”

  “I’ll play for you anytime you want.” He touched my cheek to banish the tear before it dropped on the Strad. “You don’t have to marry me for that.”

  My breath caught in my throat, making me give a weird little cough. “But I would marry you, Milo. Don’t you think we’d be good together? Your mother would be over the moon.” I was pretending to joke, badly. “And our kids would be great at the violin.”

  I had this image of him showing a child, our child, how to play the violin with his depth of skill and feeling, and I lost it. He stared at me, mute.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m saying this stuff,” I said, swiping away another tear. “Maybe the wine. I’m not a good drinker. Forget everything I just said, because I’m stupid.”

  “You’re not stupid. Music makes people emotional, and high-tier instruments—”

  “You made me emotional,” I said, cutting him off. “You, and the way you played.”

  He looked away again. “Alice…”

  “Please take this violin. It scares me.”

  I gave him the priceless Stradivarius, and he stood to put it away. “Milo,” I said when he turned from me. “I do love you. I’m not exaggerating.”

  “I love you, too.” He said it to the cabinet as he arranged the violin in its case and loosened the bow. “I’ve known you longer than just about every friend in my life.”

  Every friend. He emphasized the word. He wanted me to stop my dramatic nonsense before I embarrassed both of us beyond bearing, but I couldn’t stop. Like the Prokofiev in the car, my feelings spilled out, sweeping, jumpy, vibrant. “I would actually, literally marry you tomorrow,” I insisted. “I’ve felt that way since the first day I saw you. I would marry you now, this second, not just because of our parents and our friendship, but for so many things.”

  He locked the cabinet and turned to me, his expression guarded. “Why are we talking about marriage? I think you’ve been swept up in the magic of the Stradivarius and Bach.”

  “Ugh. No. Bach’s violin pieces are trash compared to Tchaikovsky or Mozart.”

  “Holiday magic, then.”

  I waved a hand, wondering what was in that wine, that a few sips would make me embarrass myself this way. “No, it’s the magic of you being so freaking gentlemanly and handsome and talented. Whenever I’m around you, I feel this pull to you, this excitement to be around you.”

  “Because we’ve known each other for so long. That’s all it is, Lala, excitement because we haven’t seen each other in a while.”

  Lala. The childhood name both thrilled and infuriated me. I knew he meant to push me away with it. His hard, dark gaze gave me nothing. No words, no agreement or disavowal. It just left me flailing in the open, my hyper-emotional words out there, impossible to take back.

  “I’m sorry. I always blurt out this crazy stuff.” I forced a laugh, flushing hot.

  “It’s not crazy. We’re good friends, and we share an intense love of music. I’m glad you came to see my Strad, and I’m flattered that you were so moved, but it’s getting late.” I could tell from his tone that he desperately wanted to get rid of me. “I should take you home now,” he said, gesturing for me to precede him out of the room.

  We walked back down the hallway to his living room, where Blue sprawled in a dog bed beside the giant fireplace. When he saw us, his tail thumped the floor.

  “I have to say goodbye to Blue.” I broke away from Milo and crossed to his lounging black greyhound. When I crouched in front of him, he extended a narrow paw, half-reclining, lazy and content.

  Stroking his fur helped me calm down a little, and get a hold of myself. He eased back down into a sprawl as I scratched his ear, and heaved a sigh of contentment with his tongue half out of his mouth. So what if I’d confessed my crush to Milo? Like, literally told him to his face that I loved him, and wanted to marry him? He had to already know. Yes, the two of us would be uncomfortable around each other forever, now that I’d put it out there. That was my punishment for letting it all spill out, but at least I’d admitted what I’d hidden in my heart for so long.

  “I’m sorry I made things weird between us,” I said, turning and getting to my feet. “You know how I am.”

  “Yes. I know.”

  He’d come closer while I was petting Blue. One hand was thrust in his pocket, and I couldn’t read the somber expression on his face. Then the hand was out of his pocket, moving toward me, cradling my chin. His other arm came around me, pulling me against his long, hard frame. I gasped as he tilted my head back and pressed his lips to mine.

  Chapter Three: Milo

  I held her harder than I meant to. She was so delicate, so warm, so full of life and emotions. I didn’t mean to kiss her. Damn it, I wasn’t supposed to kiss her. I wasn’t even supposed to have her at my place. Weakness, to put on that turn signal and bring her here where we could be alone together.

  But oh, how many fucking times had I dreamed about kissing Lilly-Alice Nyquist? How many times had I imagined the curves of her body beneath my fingers, the heat and taste of her mouth? Subtle notes of port wine and longing. Fucking love. She’d hit the nail on the head with that word.

  “No,” I murmured against her lips, at the same time I pushed her against the doorjamb to trap her in my grip. She responded to my force with trusting surrender, because she didn’t understand the danger she was in. Sweet, tantalizing Alice, with her blushing, breathless declarations of love. She wanted to marry me? She had no idea how much I enjoyed hurting women, making them cry. I was a man who prized sexual obedience and surrender. Even if I explained what I was into, even if I paused our kiss and told her everything right now, she wouldn’t understand.

  My hands moved over her body, exploring
the curves beneath her soft, embroidered sweater dress. I reached under her hem, pushing up the skirt just enough to cup her ass and slide a fingertip along the outline of her panties. I found bare skin, smooth and warm. Her tight little butt cheeks begged to be squeezed and parted, so I could plunder her innocent asshole with my raging erection.

  Jesus, really? That’s the first place your mind goes?

  No, I couldn’t do this. Even now, she was leaning into me with unwavering trust. Stop. Stop now, before you do something you can’t take back. My mind raged at me to stop, but my body couldn’t hold her close enough. I couldn’t kiss her deeply enough. I found myself groping her, grasping one thigh, practically carrying her over to the couch.

  Then I was on top, and she was under me. I pulled down the hem of her dress, covering her panties and upper thighs, like that would stop me from going too far. When she parted her legs, I groaned and lifted onto my elbows, because if our bodies came together that way, cock to mons, I would tear off the clothes between us and ravage her.

  I think my groan finally clued her to the danger. She stopped trying to pull me close and looked into my eyes instead, twining her fingers in my hair. I kissed her, trying to be tender, but going rabid and wild within moments, because she was too damn alluring, and I’d wanted to kiss her lips for so long.

  Yes, and you didn’t, because you can’t do this. You have to stop this.

  I kissed her harder to silence the voices, and made fists to prevent myself from grabbing her hands and pinning her down. Our legs were entwined, though, and she was arching against me, making needful sounds.

  Shit. Maybe I could give her what she needed, as a service. I was a Dominant, but maybe I could serve, just this once, and put her needs before mine. Maybe I could quiet the violent spirits that wanted to possess her, and make gentle love to her instead, the way a normal, considerate man would. How hard could it be? I could go through the motions. I could do it without hurting her. Maybe.

  I let my body ease down against hers. Her arms came around me, holding me close, making me shudder with the depth of longing to be inside her. I slid along her body so my rigid cock lay against her center, with only our clothes between us. I knew she could feel my hard-on through my pants, but its size and breadth didn’t seem to faze her. She pressed her body to mine, all her slender muscles taut with desire.

  “Alice,” I whispered. “What do you want?”

  “You.” She said it without thought, without pause.

  Because she didn’t understand.

  I let out a tortured breath and pressed harder against her, body to body. If we weren’t clothed, I’d be inside her. I wouldn’t have been able to go for a condom. I would have just thrust inside her and ridden her without mercy. Gentle lovemaking? Fuck. Even with clothes between us, I could feel myself turning to a monster, wanting to devour her, consume her, possess her with rough, unrestrained passion born of too much longing. Years of longing.

  My body still tried to argue with my mind, as I pulled her thighs wider and slid my body against hers, mimicking penetration. Maybe she was into violence. Maybe she was into rough sex. Maybe she wanted a monster for a lover. Maybe she was into dungeons where submissive women served Dominant men and weren’t allowed safe words.

  Maybe…

  Maybe I could restrain myself before I revealed the depth of my perversion, and destroyed our friendship for life. I pulled away, exerting the most effort I’d ever exerted in anything, missing her taste before our lips even parted. My whole body trembled at the physical agony of parting our bodies when I wanted her so much.

  “Wait,” I said. I forced myself off the couch to kneel beside her. “Please, we can’t do this. If we start, things will go too far.”

  “I want them to.” She gazed at me, her lips full and kissable. “You can’t go too far. I want you, Milo. I want to kiss you and make out with you. I’ve wanted that forever, and if you want to go to bed together, that’s okay too. I’m not a virgin.” She laughed, a tight, scared laugh. “I’m not saving myself for marriage or anything.”

  Go to bed together. That was how she put it. I stroked a lock of her hair, hating that I was this person, this deviant who didn’t dare go to bed together with someone I treasured so much. “You don’t understand. I—I can’t.”

  She sat up, pulling her dress’s hem a little lower. “Why? Are you seeing someone else?” She looked embarrassed. Sad. “I thought you were single.”

  “I am. It’s just…” I rubbed my eyes and let out a groan, willing my erection to subside. “I can’t do this because I respect you too much.”

  “Oh God. You respect me.” Her head fell back against my couch. “I’m throwing myself at you, and you’re not interested.”

  “Alice—”

  “It’s okay.”

  She stood, and I stood too, catching her before she could back away. She was upset, and I could barely think. I wanted her, still. I wanted her so hard and so rough, so violently that it would feel like rape to her, even if it was consensual.

  I had to get her out of here, but now she was crying. I took her in my arms, trying not to stab her with my granite-hard cock.

  “This is awful,” she said, shedding tears against my shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Why are you sorry?” The last thing she should have been was sorry. I was the monster.

  “I came here to do this. I mean, a little bit, I asked to see your violin because I wanted to—” She burst into more tears, sniffling through her confession. “I thought, maybe, the two of us could have something, you know, more than a friendship.”

  “Alice, listen.” I tilted her head up so she had to meet my gaze. “We will always have a friendship.”

  She gave a wild, broken laugh. “You’re so wonderful to say that. This is just really embarrassing, you know?” She pulled away from me, shaking her hands like she was shaking off everything that had just happened between us. “But I get it. You want a friendship only. That’s okay.”

  She thought all of this was a rejection. She thought there was something lacking in her that made me pull away. I could see it on her face, plain as a printed book, and it was so far from the truth I wanted to laugh.

  I couldn’t let her go on believing that. What could I tell her, to explain but not really explain? If I told her the full and honest truth—I want to hold you down and hurt you for my sexual satisfaction—it would only make things worse.

  I told a half-truth instead. “Things are complicated with me right now.”

  “You don’t want a relationship.” It wasn’t a question. She said it matter-of-factly. “You just want sex. Is that what you’re trying to say?”

  “No. Why would you think that?”

  Her gaze dropped to my crotch, where my pants did a damn shitty job of hiding my lingering erection. “You got excited,” she pointed out, “so you can’t have no feelings for me at all.”

  “Men get excited when—” My voice cut off. It was even worse to make her think any female body could elicit the reaction she got out of me. “Okay, yes. It excited me to…to see that side of you come out when I kissed you. The sensual side. It was beautiful to see you so aroused, and I was…God, Alice…I got aroused too. But you have to understand that I’m just not…not in a position where I can…”

  “Please stop trying to explain,” she said.

  I fell silent, grateful, because every word felt like a lie, and I was too cowardly to tell her the truth. Blue watched us moodily from his bed by the fire.

  Damn it all, I thought. I want you so badly. If you knew… But I couldn’t tell her. I bit the inside of my lip to keep the words inside.

  “Okay, you know what?” She took a deep breath and faced me. “I just want…” She put her hands together in front of her lips. “I want to put all this weirdness behind us. I don’t want you to avoid me, or run away from me at your parents’ future parties.”

  “I wouldn’t. I won’t.”

  “We have to stay friends
, because I want you to teach my kids how to play the violin some day. You know, if I ever have kids.”

  I forced the tension in my nerves to unfurl. Alice could make everything okay. She’d always been the emotionally gifted one. “If you have kids, I’ll teach them the violin,” I agreed.

  She laughed, a mostly natural laugh that signaled the worst had passed. “You should see your face, Milo. All you want right now is to get away from me.”

  All I want right now is to tie you to my bed and ravish you in quasi-legal ways, but whatever… “That’s not true,” I said aloud. “I don’t want to get away from you.”

  “Can I sleep over tonight, then? It’s cold, and I feel too tired to go home.” She glanced over at Blue. “Maybe he’ll let me share his bed.”

  I sighed inwardly. I could let her sleep in my guest room, easily, but then she’d be close, too close, and I’d obsess about her all night. But I couldn’t say no, you can’t stay, after just denying that I wanted to get away from her. I had to make it so we could stay friends.

  Blue appeared and nuzzled her hand, then mine, looking up at me as if to ask, What the fuck is wrong with you? Put her in the guest room, dude. What’s the worst that can happen?

  “Of course you can stay over,” I said, ignoring Blue’s judgmental gaze. “Maybe we can get up and go to breakfast in the morning.”

  Because that was the kind of shit friends did. I needed her in my life, even if her closeness threatened my sanity and self-control.

  *

  I didn’t think I’d be able to sleep at all with Alice in the guest room, considering it was just down the hall from my sex dungeon, but I did, drifting in and out of sensual dreams. I finally fell into a deeper sleep around five or six in the morning. It lasted until ten, when I woke to a silent apartment, and a small note propped against the pillow beside me.

  Milo,

  I’m so embarrassed about the way I acted last night. I shouldn’t have opened the box on all my crazy feelings, because I knew you didn’t want me to. I did it anyway, and I regret the discomfort I caused. I’m heading home so you don’t also have to deal with an awkward breakfast.