A Long Time Coming (Cane Brothers, #3)(100)

Throbbing.

Burning.

Hoping.

I want more. And right when I think he’s going to guide his hand between my legs, he glides his hand back to the middle of my stomach. I groan in frustration.

“Were you going to say something?” he whispers, his lips so close to my ear that I might combust.

“I . . . don’t remember,” I answer.

“I think you do remember. You just don’t want to say it.” His fingers dance up my stomach to my rib cage. “You were saying I’m making you feel . . .”

I wet my lips as I strain for his touch, but he doesn’t move. He keeps the hold on where his hand goes, always maintaining control.

“Just tell me, Lia,” he says, his lips dragging over my ear, causing chills to break over my skin.

“Turned on,” I say on a heavy breath. “You’re making me feel . . . turned on.”

“It’s because you’re so goddamn sexy,” he says just as the tip of his thumb slides against my breast.

“Oh . . . fffff-uck.”

“Jesus, you’re so hot,” he whispers just as his pelvis presses against me, and my eyes pop open in pleasure from the feel of his erection against my backside.

Oh my God.

He’s just as turned on as me.

His fingers slip along my stomach, and this time, without hesitation, slide under my shorts, where his pinky glides back and forth, right above my mound. He’s not touching me where I want him to touch me, but at this moment, I’m more turned on than Brian has ever made me.

I want it. Badly.

I want this.

I want release.

And I’m so worried that if I say something or move, this burning desire will dissipate. And I don’t want it to because I’m feeling something, like . . . like I’m starting to come alive from a deep, dark sleep, one that I’ve been in for over a year.

Needing to give him more access, I twist so I’m almost all the way on my back.

The new angle causes his grip to grow tighter, and as he moves back up my stomach, my chest grows heavy, my nipples harden, and I wait.

I pray.

I hope that he’ll touch me more.

That he’ll fully touch me this time.

Eyes shut, I hold my breath, my legs trembling as he inches closer and closer to my breast.

Almost there.

Just touch me, please.

He must be able to read my mind because his hand slides right under my breast, and his thumb drags across my nipple.

“God,” I moan, my back arching as I fall all the way to my back now, showing him I want more. I want so much more.

“Jesus Christ, you have the softest tits,” he says, his erection against my leg now, his lips right against my ear. “What I want to do to these.”

“Wh-What?” I ask.

“Strip you out of this shirt and plant my head between your tits. I want to test their weight in my hand, pinch your hard, pebbled nipples, suck on them until you scream, and then mark them with my teeth. I want you to wake up the next day and see that you were owned the night before.”

My legs involuntarily spread as the dull throb between them becomes a pounding need. Breaker’s deep, raspy—sexy—voice, the one I heard through the wall once before, is breaking every ounce of restraint I have. He’s using it on me. Me.

I expect him to move his hand back down, but instead, he drags his thumb over my nipple again, and again . . . and again, causing a hiss to escape my lips.

I thrust my chest into his hand, wanting him to make good on what he said, but he retreats, and I groan in frustration.

“Breaker,” I say breathlessly.

“You need me, don’t you?” he asks, a sense of cockiness in his voice. Even that’s more of a turn-on than anything.

“Yes,” I whisper, wanting to shed my clothes.

Thankfully, he moves past my shorts and then right between my legs. I spread them in delicious anticipation, and to my delight, he slips two fingers along my slit. He doesn’t press inside, doesn’t even try to get me off, he just glides them over the sensitive skin. So I spread even wider, causing them to slip inside where he feels just how turned on I am.

“Fuck,” he says in such a tortured voice that I feel the rumble of it all the way down to my bones.

He removes his fingers, dragging my wetness up my stomach, and when I think he’s going back to my breast, he removes his hand from my stomach, and I watch in fascination as he slips his fingers into his mouth, sucking on them both.

My breath catches in my throat as he slides them past his lips and says, “I knew your pussy would be the sweetest thing I ever fucking tasted.”

“Breaker,” I say, my mind nearly exploding. “What . . . what are you doing?”

“Attempting to control myself,” he says.

“We’re . . . we’re drunk,” I say for some reason, maybe to make myself feel better for crossing a line with my best friend.

“We might be, but I’ve thought about tasting you for so goddamn long now.”

“What?” I ask, stunned. “N-No, you haven’t. This was . . . you were just showing me how I can be desirable.”

“Yeah, Lia,” he says, his eyes connecting with mine. “You’re so fucking desirable.” And then he slips his hand back toward my breast, bringing his index finger up to my aching nipple, and pinches it.