A Long Time Coming (Cane Brothers, #3)(113)

“And . . .”

“Is it supposed to be there?” I ask as I stare at his gorgeous smirk.

“As a matter of fact, it is.” He stabs some tortellini with his fork and sticks it in his mouth.

Okay . . . I guess his hand is on my thigh then.

I turn back to my plate and try not to focus on the way his thumb caresses my skin back and forth slowly. It’s like he’s lulling me into some sort of sex-induced lullaby.

News flash, it’s working.

“Aren’t you going to ask me how my day was?” he asks.

I swallow and take a sip of my Sprite. “How was your day?”

“Pretty good. We had a company-wide meeting to go over the Shoemacher case, and then we fielded questions. It took up a great deal of the day. We split up the questions by department so we didn’t keep people waiting. I was glad to be back in the office.”

“That’s good. You happy?”

He glances over at me and smiles. “Very.”

And for some reason, I don’t think he answered about work.





“I can do those,” Breaker says as he comes up behind me while I’m at the sink, washing the pots. His hands once again slip under my shirt and past the waistband of my shorts to land on my hips. With his chest right against my back, the position feels more intimate than anything I ever did with Brian.

“I can handle it.”

“You sure?” he asks, his fingers sliding inward, causing a dull throb to ache between my legs.

“Yes,” I answer as I rest my head against his chest. Just for a moment.

He chuckles, and I can feel the rumble throughout my whole body. He brings one hand even closer in, resting just above where I want him. “I have no problem cleaning up. You did cook, after all.” His lips tug on my ear, and I drop the sponge in the sink and fully relax into him.

“I . . . I can do it.”

“Okay.” He nibbles on my ear again. “I’ll get dessert ready.” He removes his hands, and I almost let out an unsatisfied moan to call him back.

Throughout dinner, he kept his hand on my thigh as we talked about the old theater in Culver City opening up again and the old movies they’d play. He was attentive, he laughed with me, he listened, and he asked questions.

Just like every other conversation we’ve ever had.

Yet this felt different.

Everything feels different.

And it’s scary.

What’s especially scary is the way I feel empty when he walks away. That should be the most concerning thing out of all of this. I never felt anything like that with Brian. I shouldn’t be comparing things with Brian, but if what the girls said is true, and Breaker wants to move our friendship into a relationship, then Brian is the benchmark. And I’m coming to realize that it is a very low benchmark. He texted me again today, but that was it. I haven’t read any of his messages because, why bother? We’re done. End of story. No way would I feel this way if things ended with Breaker. And that’s what terrifies me.

I finish washing the pot, clear out the sink, and then wipe down the counters. When I glance up and don’t see Breaker at the dining room table, I call out, “Breaker?”

“In here,” he says from my bedroom.

Oh dear God.

What kind of dessert could we possibly have in the bedroom?

I tug on the hem of my shirt as I head toward his voice. That’s when I hear the bathtub filling with water. I poke my head around the corner to find Breaker turning off the faucet. The tub is full of water and topped off with bubbles, while candles provide the only light in the room.

“What’s this?” I ask, unsure of what else to say.

Breaker turns toward me, and my eyes immediately fall to his unbuttoned shirt and exposed chest and stomach.

“Bath time,” he says before walking up to me and taking the hem of my shirt in his hands. But he doesn’t pull up. He waits for me to give him the go-ahead. A part of me wonders what would happen if I walked away, but the other part of me—the desperate part of me—wants to see what he has in store.

So I lift my arms, and he slowly drags my shirt over my head and then drops it to the floor.

“Turn around,” he says.

And I do so.

He undoes my bra and lets it fall to the ground right before he drags my shorts and panties to the ground, leaving me completely naked.

His hands fall to my hips again as he presses his warm body against mine. His mouth caresses my cheek while his hands slide up my stomach to my breasts. Breaker seems to really like my breasts, which is definitely boosting my residual self-doubt from Brian’s lack of interest. Stop thinking about him. You have a hot-as-hell man touching your boobs.

“You’re so fucking addicting,” he says as he pinches my nipples.

My head falls back, and his lips find my neck. He trails kisses up the column and then back down while he plays with my nipples.

“Fuck,” I whisper as my body blazes.

“You like that, don’t you?”

I nod, not holding anything back, because I do. I like when he touches my breasts, when he plays with them, when his fingers pinch and pull on my nipples.

“Good. Now listen closely, Lia. I’m going to need you to slip into the bathtub, rest your head on the end, and spread your legs. Got it?”