A Long Time Coming (Cane Brothers, #3)(112)

“And how did he show you?” Myla asks, sitting on the edge of her seat.

My cheeks heat just thinking about that night. “With teasing touches. He’d slowly move his hand to just below my breasts and then slip his hand past the waistband of my shorts.”

“Oh dear God.” Kelsey fans herself. “Did the teasing lead to anything?”

I bite my bottom lip. “I, uh, I ended up dry-humping him to completion.”

“Both of you?” Lottie asks, and I nod. “Well . . . that’s it then, you just opened it all up for him to take control.”

“Yup,” Kelsey says. “And then with the towel thing. He has his mind set, and you need to decide if you’re going to let it happen or not.”

“I . . . I really don’t know. I don’t want to lose him.” He’s told me he’s loved me for years, and it’s always been in friendship, but lately . . . lately it’s felt like more. But how can I know the difference? And what if I’m not enough for him sexually and his interest in me dwindles like Brian’s did? What if I lose him too? “If what you say is true, and he’s trying to coax me into a relationship, what happens if he doesn’t believe we work? As a couple? I don’t think I could manage him not being in my life.”

“Sometimes the best relationship comes from a strong friendship as the foundation,” Kelsey says. “That’s how it was with me and JP. We got really close, and I thought he was a great friend. Crossing that line felt natural to me.”

“It doesn’t feel natural to me,” I answer.

Lottie taps her chin. “I think Breaker is going to help you see just how natural it can be.”





Breaker: Just got off work. Headed to your place.

Lia: Are you really just going to invite yourself over?

Breaker: As if I needed an invite to begin with.

Lia: Maybe you need one now.

Breaker: Fine . . . Lia, can I come over and play?

Lia: What does “play” entail?

Breaker: Games. eye roll

Lia: Okay, as long as we’re playing games. I can cook up some tortellini if you want. I got the fresh kind.

Breaker: Serve me a bowl. I’m making a quick stop.

Lia: What are you getting?

Breaker: Dessert.

Lia: Okay, see you soon.





“Hey,” Breaker says, walking into my apartment. I glance over my shoulder just in time to see him remove his suit jacket, revealing his tight-fitting button-up shirt where the top few buttons are undone, hinting at his firm chest. “Smells good.”

“Oh, thanks,” I say as I turn around and face the stove, my face heating from the mere sight of him.

He walks into the kitchen, comes right up behind me, and places his hand on my hip while looking over my shoulder. I’m immediately aroused, and that annoys me. I shouldn’t be this insane about the man. I should be able to control myself, but it seems like the girls are right. It’s next to impossible to control yourself around the Cane men.

His hand slides under my shirt and grips my waist as he says, “Want me to grab drinks?”

“Uh, yeah.” I gulp. “That would be helpful.”

“Okay.” He then lowers his face to my neck and places the lightest of kisses on my skin. “You smell amazing, by the way.”

And then he pulls away, and I’m left stirring the sauce rather frantically as I try to control my pulse, which has skyrocketed.

It’s the little things with him.

The attention.

The touches.

What he says.

All things I can now see that I wanted Brian to do—all things Breaker does without even asking. It’s almost as if it’s ingrained in him, and he doesn’t need to think about it. It just happens.

“How was your day?” he asks as he grabs two Sprites from the fridge.

“It was fine,” I say, still feeling stiff.

“Just fine?” he asks as he brings the drinks to the table.

“Yeah, nothing too exciting happened.”

“Well, we’ll have to change that,” he says as he grabs plates, and I take the sauce off the stove. “I got this. You go sit down.”

“You don’t have to, Breaker.”

He places his finger under my chin and holds me in place as he says, “I want to.”

Okay, then.

I let him serve us, and when I take a seat, I watch as he rolls up his sleeves, which then plays in my head like some sort of porno from the way his muscly forearm flexes. God, he really is so sexy. Why am I only letting myself notice it now? I mean, I’ve known he’s hot, but the thought has never hit me like this before, like I want to do something about it.

With a plate in each hand, he walks over to the table and sets it down in front of me. He grips the back of my neck and says, “Need anything else?”

“Uh, I don’t think so,” I answer while his palm burns into my skin.

He gives me a light squeeze. “Let me know if you do.”

Before he takes a seat, he scoots his chair closer to mine and then sits down, only to place his hand on my bare thigh.

I nearly choke on my tortellini.

“Problem?” he asks.

“Your, uh, your hand is on my thigh.”