: Chapter 13

What are you doing?Lia:

Staring at my ceiling, dreading having to go to my brother’s house.Breaker:

Sunday brunch?Lia:

Yes, but all they’re going to do is fawn all over their wives while I sit there with a mediocre Bloody Mary in hand, watching them.Breaker:

Oh, funny thing . . . I like mediocre Bloody Marys.Lia:

Is this your way of inviting yourself?Breaker:

I need more friends! I need girl friends, to be precise. Lottie and Kelsey seem cool, and if they’re going to be on our Family Feud team, then I need to get to know them.Lia:

So you are inviting yourself?Breaker:

Please . . . Pickle.Lia:

Ugh, fine, but I swear to God, Lia, if you start spouting off embarrassing shit about me like you did at the last brunch before the wives were around, I’m going to kick you right in the crotch.Breaker:

Oh no, not a kick to the crotch. *shivers*Lia:

Yeah, a giant old foot right to the camel toe.Breaker:

I had a camel toe ONCE! Do not use that against me.Lia:

I can still see it like it was yesterday . . .Breaker:

And you were saying you don’t WANT me to say anything embarrassing about you to your brothers . . .Lia:

Oh, would you look at that? The camel-toe image vanished.Breaker:

Funny how that works. When do I need to be ready?Lia:

I leave in twenty. Dress slutty.Breaker:

Slutty? Why?Lia:

Might be fun to send Brian another picture.Breaker:

Too soon, Breaker, too soon.Lia:

LOL, noted. See you in twenty.Breaker:

“I NEED to buy some of your cologne,” I say as we pull up to Huxley’s place, a large white coastal-style house with black-framed windows and accents. It’s beautiful with its manicured lawns and fresh flower boxes under the window. Picturesque. The type of house I’d want one day.

“Why do you need to buy some of my cologne?” Breaker asks as he parks in the circular driveway.

“It smells sublime. I think I want it for myself.”

“You can’t wear my cologne,” he says, giving me a strange look.

“Why the hell not?”

“Because we can’t smell like each other. Besides, I like the smell of your perfume. Viktor & Rolf really suits you.”

“It’s scary how you remember my perfume. I’m not sure Brian could even describe the scent to me if I asked him.”

“A subtle combination of rose, jasmine, and orchid,” he says, his eyes landing on me.

And then we stare at each other for a few seconds, in the car, with the world whipping around us. How does he know that? I wouldn’t be that precise with the way it smells, yet, Breaker knows everything.

Every last thing about me.

He knows that when I get my period, I get horrible migraines, and he’s always there with Ibuprofen, caffeine, and Sour Patch Kids.

He knows that I’m not that big on working out, but that sometimes I get in moods of wanting to work out, so he always has a variety of classes I can join when I come to him. He keeps them in a note in his phone.

He knows that without even having to ask, he buys Comic Con VIP tickets for us and thinks up our costume ideas because I love going. Still, I can’t handle the stress of it all, and I’d rather be told what to wear and when than to figure it out myself.

And apparently, he knows exactly what I smell like. Notes and all.

Not sure I could say the same about Brian. Then again, like Brian said, we have our entire lives to figure it all out.

So why does that sentiment feel sour on my tongue now?

“Come on,” he says while opening his car door. “I’m starving, and they’re serving make-your-own breakfast tacos.”

Shaking my head from any thoughts of Brian, I open my door as well, just as Breaker moves around his car and grabs the door for me.

“What are you doing?” I ask, looking up at him as my hand slides into his.

“Helping you out.”

“Why would I need help?”

“Uh, I don’t know . . . you don’t wear dresses often, so I wasn’t sure if you knew how to walk in one.”

I press my palm to his face, which causes him to laugh and pull away. “Can’t a guy be a gentleman without being chastised about it?”

“Can’t a girl wear a dress without being teased about it?”

His teasing falls flat right before he says, “You can, and if I didn’t say it before, you look beautiful, Lia.” Those bright blue eyes stare back at me, sincerity so heavy that it almost feels . . . real. Like him holding my hand is real, and his words are spoken from a different place, a place that isn’t just friendship.

“Thank you,” I say, waiting for him to guide us to the door, but he doesn’t.

He stays put, standing in front of me, his eyes scanning the navy-blue maxi dress I paired with a few gold necklaces. I styled my hair with some soft waves like the hairdresser did yesterday and added a heavy dose of mascara to make my eyes pop.

His hand reaches up to my hair, where he twists a few strands between his finger and thumb.

And for some reason, my breath catches when his eyes meet mine again.

“You don’t need a dress to look beautiful. You’re beautiful in just your flannel shorts and T-shirt, but you also look great in this.”

I swallow hard, my nerves feeling frayed because, what’s going on? It’s like a switch has been turned on in him . . . or turned off, and he’s more . . . affectionate. His compliments seem more intimate. And the way he looks at me has some hunger to it.

Before I can process anything, he slips his hand back into mine and tugs me toward the front door.

“Have you ever seen a breakfast taco bar?” he asks as if he didn’t just stare into my soul with his commanding eyes.

“Uh . . . no.”

“It’s fucking mouthwatering. Huxley gets it catered. There are mimosas, Bloody Marys—mediocre ones, of course—a giant fruit display, plus a variety of croissants that I’m pretty sure will rock your world. They’ve rocked mine a few times.” He pats his stomach.

“Yes, that six-pack of yours really tells me how the croissants have rocked you,” I say.

A charming smirk passes over his lips right before he drops my hand and rings the doorbell. “Notice my six-pack, huh?”

“The astronauts on the I.S.S. noticed your six-pack.”

He presses his hand to his chest. “Don’t flatter me. My ego won’t be able to fit through the door.”

I nudge him with my shoulder just as the door opens, Huxley appearing on the other side.

There’s something to be said about the genetics the Cane brothers possess because every one of them is extraordinarily handsome. All with dark hair, square jaws, sculpted bodies, and personalities that would make any leading lady fall for them.

Huxley has that tall, dark, and brooding thing going on, but can switch right out of it when he needs to, like right now, as he smiles at me.

“Lia, it’s great to see you. Been a while since my brother brought you around. Congrats on the engagement.”

“Thank you,” I say. “And congrats on your wedding as well. Breaker showed me pictures.”

“He should have brought you,” Huxley says, eyeing his brother.

“Charise was a fine date,” Breaker says while shifting to the side.

“Lia would have been better.” Huxley steps to the side as well and gestures with his hand to walk in. “Everything is on the back patio. Enjoy.”

“Thank you,” I say as I step into his beautiful house, where the entryway has a large picture of him and Lottie on their wedding day. The sun is setting in the background. He’s holding her possessively by the jaw as he kisses her. It’s raw, beautiful . . . erotic, a picture Brian and I would never take.

A position Brian would never hold me in.

A kiss I don’t think we’d ever share.

He doesn’t have that in him, that craving, grasping for air-type nature. He doesn’t see me as his and only his. He doesn’t look at me and think . . . mine.

That’s never bothered me, but for some reason, looking at this picture of Lottie and Huxley, and the words Brian said to me last night, it’s . . . it’s bothering me now.

“You okay?” Breaker asks, coming up next to me.

“Yes,” I answer. “Beautiful photo of them.”

“It was a beautiful wedding,” he replies and then smooths his hand to my lower back, right above the curve of my ass. “Ready to get some tacos?” he whispers in my ear right before he guides me toward the back of the house, his palm nearly searing my skin through the fabric of my dress.

“Yes,” I answer as my voice gets caught in my throat.

He must not notice because he leads me out back where JP and Kelsey are filling their plates while Lottie fills up a champagne flute.

“Hey,” Breaker says with a wave of his hands, causing all three sets of eyes to land on us. “Brought Lia with me because, frankly, she invited herself.”

I pinch his side, causing him to laugh. I whisper, “Because of that, game on.” I address everyone and say, “Breaker said the Bloody Marys are mediocre.”

“Oh, you bitch,” he whispers, causing me to laugh.

“What?” JP asks. “My Bloody Marys are not mediocre.”

“You have no idea what you just did,” Breaker mutters.

“I have an inkling,” I answer as JP sets his plate down, grabs Breaker, and takes him over to the drinks, where he runs through every step of making the perfect Bloody Mary.

“Hey, Lia.” Kelsey waves and grabs a plate. “Help yourself.”

“Thank you,” I say as I take the plate from her and then look over the buffet.

What looks to be fresh tortillas are stacked under a warmer. There are scrambled eggs, a variety of cheeses, salsas, refried beans, bacon, sausage, avocado, and cilantro. Breaker was right. This looks amazing. To the right is a colossal bowl of fruit salad made up of strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, blackberries, and cherries. And to the right of that . . . the croissants with a bowl of jelly.

“This looks amazing,” I say.

“Take your time,” Kelsey says. “We’ll be here for the next few hours, slowly picking away at the buffet. It’s an event. I would start with two tacos and a drink.”

Lottie slides in next to me and says, “Then go for the bowl of fruit as a palate cleanser.”

“Then a croissant, only one to start,” Kelsey adds.

“Then some water,” Lottie says. “Then another taco, then croissant, then fruit . . . then croissant.”

“Keep it slow and steady on the booze drinks.” Kelsey hands me a mimosa.

“I’m not going to remember that, so I might need you two to guide me.”

“We got you,” Lottie says and then points at a table on the other side of the pool. “Meet us over there unless you want to listen to JP drone on for half an hour about how he makes the best Bloody Marys.”

“He better get it all out now,” Kelsey says. “I don’t want to hear about it when we get home.”

Chuckling, I fill my plate with two tacos made up of scrambled eggs, refried beans, cheese, bacon, and avocado and then head over to the other side of the pool, in the shade with the girls. Just what I wanted.

“I’m so glad Breaker brought you,” Kelsey says. “We’re always telling him to bring you, but he says you spend a lot of weekends with your fiancé.”

I nod. “Yeah, he’s out of town this weekend, so I was free.”

“Well, thank goodness for that,” Lottie says. “By the way, the knitted potholders you gave us are my favorite thing ever.”

“Mine too,” Kelsey says. “I need to know how you made them. I’ve wanted to pick up a hobby for a while, but I don’t know where to start.”

Lottie grips the table and says, “Oh my God, we should start a knitting club.”

“Don’t tease me. I’ve always wanted to be part of a knitting club.”

“Oh, we’re not teasing.” Lottie looks over her shoulder and calls, “Myla, over here.”

I glance over my shoulder and spot Ryot Bisley—former third baseman for the Chicago Bobbies—I know this because Breaker told me—and his wife, Myla. They recently joined forces with the Cane brothers, so seeing them here is no surprise.

Ryot tugs on Myla’s hand, whispers something in her ear. I watch as their eyes connect. An unspoken affection for each other passes by right before he pinches her chin and kisses her lips gently.

The sight of them makes my stomach hollow out as the thought, “I want that,” passes through my mind.

But don’t I have that?

Don’t I have that with Brian?

I want to believe that I do. I want to be able to sit here and think, if I brought Brian to this brunch, that he wouldn’t send me on my way and focus on the powerful man who he has at his fingertips but rather speak quietly in my ear, hold my hand, want to let everyone know that I’m his.

Myla makes her way over here, her curvy body something to behold. No wonder Ryot is watching her walk away. Hell, I can’t take my eyes off her either.

“Hey, girls.” When she spots me, she says, “We haven’t met. I’m Myla.” She holds her hand out, and I take it.

“I’m Lia, Breaker’s best friend.”

“Oh, I’ve heard so much about you. Congrats on your engagement.”

“Thank you,” I say, even though it’s starting to feel like congrats aren’t in order.

“Are you not eating?” Lottie asks right before she takes a large bite of her taco.

“Please.” Myla takes a seat. “As if I would skip out on taco bar. Ryot said he’ll get me a plate and bring it over.”

“That’s so sweet,” I say.

Myla smiles while her eyes find Ryot. “That’s Ryot, always thinking of me first before himself.” Myla waggles her brows. “Even in bed.” She then leans forward and says, “Girls, last night, I’m not kidding, I’m pretty sure I had an out-of-body experience.”

“Please, do share with us,” Lottie says as my cheeks heat. “And then we need to solidify this knitting club thing, because I’m serious about it.”

“Ooo, I’d love to knit,” Myla says.

“Then I think it’s official,” Kelsey adds while sipping her mimosa. “We’re going to become knitters, and Lia is going to teach us everything.”

“Wait . . .” Myla pauses. “Did you make those knitted potholders?”

“That was me.”

“Okay, you need to teach me because I love those things.” God, she’s so beautiful and friendly.

“See,” Lottie says. “They’re a crowd-pleaser and a much better wedding gift than the crystal orb we got from one of Huxley’s clients. What the hell are we supposed to do with that? Huxley wants to pawn it and then donate the money to someone random, like slip it in a card, hand them the card, and leave. I argued that what if that business associate ever came to our house and wanted to see the orb? We had to keep it. So it’s stuffed away in a closet. Anyway.” Lottie turns toward Myla. “Tell us about the sex.”

“Ryot really loves going down on me. I truly think it’s one of his favorite things.” I pick up my drink and start to sip it because I’ve never had such open conversations like this before. Not even with Breaker. Actually, never with Breaker. “Well, last night, he was sucking on my clit, while he had a vibrator inside me, and I nearly flew off the bed.”

I suck in my drink wrong and start coughing.

“You okay?” Kelsey asks while rubbing my back.

“Yes, sorry.” I cough a few more times. “Just drank that wrong.”

“You sure?”

I nod, my cheeks flushed from embarrassment.

A vibrator while he’s going down on her? Who knew that was even a combination?

“Huxley did that to me the other night, easily the best orgasm ever. Sure, I love it when he’s inside me, of course, but something about his tongue makes me lose my mind.”

“Same with JP,” Kelsey says. “But he likes using his fingers over a vibrator, and I do too because he is able to hit me in just the right spot.”

“What about you, Lia?” Myla asks, and then all eyes fall on me.

“Uh . . .” I look around. “Well, Brian, he uh . . .”

He doesn’t have sex with me a lot.

He doesn’t like going down on me.

He doesn’t like it when I give him a blow job because he says I don’t do it right . . .

“He’s not much of an oral guy,” I say, silencing the table.

The air immediately shifts from pleasant and fun to awkward and uncomfortable.

“But we’re working on that,” I say out of desperation, not to look like a total loser. “He’s busy a lot, so it’s hard to find time, especially since we don’t live together.”

“Oh, yes, when you live together, that will change,” Lottie says, but I can tell she’s just saying that to be nice.

“Totally,” Myla pops in.

“Living together changes everything.” Kelsey smiles.

“And you won’t have Breaker on the other side of the wall anymore, which I’m sure will be better,” Lottie says. “I can’t imagine what that must be like.”

“Especially after we ran into that girl who went to your wedding,” Kelsey says, trying to remember what she said. “What was her name?”

“Charise,” I say.

“That’s right.” Lottie snaps her finger at me. “Oh my God, she told us she had never in her life had orgasms like the ones she had with Breaker.”

Ones?

Plural?

“She went on forever about it in the grocery store—kind of awkward. She said she really wanted to see him again and asked us to say something. We didn’t,” Kelsey says. “He’s not a relationship kind of guy.”

“Makes you think, though,” Lottie says as she stares off at the men. “We might have underestimated the youngest Cane brother. He comes off all sweet and charming, but I bet you he’s the sexiest in bed out of all of them.”

“I could see that,” Myla chimes in.

“I don’t think it’s even a question,” Kelsey says. “I’m pretty sure that’s the case. Just look at him. No man can have those eyes and not fuck someone to their deathbed.”

Oh.

My.

God.

I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at Breaker the same.

“Also”—Kelsey leans in—“and you guys have to swear I never told you this, but JP told me a story once about Breaker.”

Lottie wipes her mouth with a napkin and says, “Tell us. Breaker has always been a mystery to me. I need to know more.”

Kelsey glances at me and says, “I’m sure you know this already, but JP told me he was on a business trip with Breaker once, and he picked up a girl at a bar. He took her back to the penthouse that he was sharing with JP. He said he had never heard a girl come that many times in his life. And it wasn’t just in their bedroom. Apparently, Breaker didn’t care about doing her in the kitchen, or on the dining room table, or out on the balcony.”

I swallow hard as a light sweat pricks out over my skin. Why can I see it in my head? Why can I clearly visualize his strong, masculine body pulsing into a woman on a balcony?

“With his brother in the other room?” Lottie asks and shakes her head. “God, that’s ballsy but really hot. I’m sort of into that whole people are watching me thing, but of course Huxley would never.”

“Neither would Ryot,” Myla says. “The number of times the man has whispered ‘mine’ into my ear.”

“Same,” Kelsey says. “JP would rather cut off his own penis than allow anyone to see me naked.”

I think about Brian and what he’d do. My initial thought is, he would . . . if the people paid us. And how shitty a thought is that?

“Anyway,” Lottie says. “Back to this knitting club. What do we need to get started?”

And just like that, we’re back to knitting.

Not sure I will recover from this conversation because, holy shit, I learned far too much about my best friend, things I never knew. Plural orgasms. I didn’t know that was a thing. And then Breaker’s words come back to me from yesterday.

“Fuck, if you were my fiancée, my wife, I’d never let you leave the bedroom. Your voice would be hoarse from every fucking orgasm I gave you.” Hoarse. From every fucking orgasm.

I clear my throat and try to act normal as the thought of Breaker fucking someone flashes through my mind. “Um, well, we will need yarn.”

“Hold on.” Lottie pulls out her phone and types away. “I’m taking notes. We’re going to make this happen.”

ALL THE LADIES have a croissant in hand, and together we “cheers” them in the middle of the table, and each takes a bite.

Ooey, gooey buttery and flaky with a hint of jam. Good God, it is the most magnificent thing I think I’ve ever tasted.

“Oh my God, this is good,” I say with a mouthful.

“If I wasn’t so concerned about my waistline expanding, I’d have these every day,” Lottie says. “Reign is our personal chef, and he spends all afternoon prepping these. He makes sure they’re piping hot in the morning. And his homemade jam is heaven.”

“JP is trying to steal Reign, and he asked me to help him,” Kelsey says. “I told him there was no way I was getting in the middle of that fight.”

“Smart move, sis,” Lottie says, playfully staring down Kelsey.

“You know”—Myla examines her croissant—“I might have to ask Ryot to get in the mix of stealing Reign. I have no problem with some friendly competition.”

Lottie glares at Myla. “Need I remind you that I’m feisty, and I don’t mind using my nails as claws.”

Myla leans close and says, “Need I remind you that I grew up in a military household where I learned to hold my own. I will destroy you.”

“I have secret rage,” Lottie fires back, making us all chuckle.

“That means nothing to me,” Myla counters with an evil glare.

“You know,” Kelsey cuts in. “Maybe I’ll just do you all a favor and steal him for JP, and that way, we don’t have to see anyone’s rage.”

“Or I can just take him,” I say, raising my hand.

All the girls turn toward me, and Lottie is the first to smile. “I think you’ll fit in just nicely.”

“I agree,” Kelsey says.

“I think so too.”

I sip my mimosa and smile because I could not agree more. This is exactly what I was looking for: a group of girls I could talk to, bond with, and just laugh with when it feels like the world is falling apart around me.

Of course I have Breaker, but for that moment when we weren’t talking, it felt like I had no one, and that made me so sick to my stomach. Talking with these girls, making friends, fulfills one of the items on my check-off list—build and create a circle of trust. I know it’s early, but this could be the beginning of that.

“You haven’t told us anything about the wedding,” Kelsey says.

“True,” Lottie chimes in. “The only thing I’ve heard is how breathtaking you are in your dress.”

“You heard that?” I ask.

“Yeah. Breaker was telling Huxley all about it. I think his exact sentence was she stole my breath.”

“Wow, if Breaker said that, I can only imagine what your fiancé will say,” Myla adds.

Yeah, I wonder what Brian would say. I know what his mother thinks—she was not a fan.

Not a fan of any of the three dresses she forced me to get.

“I’m sure he’ll love it,” I say, even though I can’t be entirely sure, especially after his response last night about my hair and outfit.

“Where is the wedding?” Kelsey asks.

“The Pier 1905 Club,” I answer. “Brian’s family are members. The wedding will take place in the gardens.”

“Oh, that should be pretty,” Kelsey says.

“Yeah,” I say on a sigh and realize that maybe this would be a good way to bond with the girls. Bond on a deeper level. “It’s not my ideal location, but I’m sort of stuck with it since my soon-to-be mother-in-law is a distant relative of Lucifer himself.”

“Really?” Lottie asks, setting her drink down and turning toward me. “Is she one of those moms who wants to have control over everything?”

“Yeah. Mother has her quintessential wedding in mind, and none of my ideas are even on Mother’s radar.”

“How is she getting away with this?” Kelsey asks. “Does Brian know?”

“Oh yeah, he knows, and he’s completely impervious. He keeps telling me to let his mother make all the decisions because the wedding isn’t a union of love for his family. It’s more of a horse and pony show. Clearly, I don’t have the same opinion.”

“Uh, and why isn’t Brian backing you up?” Lottie asks.

Great question.

“He’s a mama’s boy, and I’m pretty sure he still believes he must do anything to please Mother. Also known as The Beave. He constantly seeks his parents’ approval, and this is just another instance of that.”

“Well, that’s ridiculous,” Kelsey says, outraged. “I like the nickname, though. Your wedding should be one of the most special days of your life, not a day filled with someone else’s version of love.”

“I agree. Breaker has been pretty good at helping me keep things from getting too scary. The mother-in-law wanted us to get married in a church, but Breaker helped move it to the garden. The dresses she wanted me to wear were atrocious, and Breaker put his foot down on that too. Honestly, I’d be lost without him.”

Kelsey and Lottie exchange some sort of knowing look before they turn back to me. “It’s because Breaker always thinks of you first,” Kelsey says softly. “He truly cherishes you. I’m sure he doesn’t say all the things to you that he says to us, but you are his number one. There’s no question about it.”

I look over my shoulder where I find Breaker laughing with his brothers and Ryot, all holding Bloody Marys in hand, looking like a pack of Men’s World Fitness models getting ready for their next shoot. Breaker glances at me just at the same time, and with a simple wink in my direction, my stomach tumbles out of my body.

“Yup, always puts you first,” Lottie seconds as we all take a sip of our drinks.

“DID YOU TRY THE CROISSANTS?” Breaker asks as he sits on my lounger and places his hand on my shin.

“I did,” I say as I can feel the warmth of his palm once again.

“And . . .”

I attempt to look anywhere but into his eyes, but it’s useless. They’re the brightest blue, which means they’re pulling me into his gaze—his comforting, warm gaze. “They were fantastic,” I manage to say.

“Told you.” He gives my shin a squeeze. “Seemed like you were having fun with the girls. What’s this I hear about a knitting club? And how can I get an invite? I bet Lottie and Kelsey have no idea the skills I have.”

His charm soothes the tension I was just feeling. “Your ability to knit barely registers as a skill. You can knit a line, and that’s pretty much it.”

“Lies!” he says. “I knitted a scarf.”

“Your ‘scarf’ was three lines knitted together, and you said it was for a mouse.”

“Yeah, so, mice need to stay warm, too. And maybe if I was invited to the knitting club, I’d grow my skills into something more, like a knitted hat.”

“Last time I tried to teach you, you pierced the wall with your knitting needle because you were frustrated.”

“The yarn was aggravating me. I’m better now, less temperamental.”

“Uh-huh, sure.”

He nods at me. “Scoot over.” I move to the side of the large lounge chair just as Breaker sits next to me and loops his arm around my shoulder. Together, we lie there, staring up at the cloudy sky as everyone around us chats and enjoys some lasting mimosas and JP’s apparently not-so-mediocre Bloody Marys. “What else did you guys talk about?”

How you’re probably a stallion in bed.

How you made a woman come so many times in one night that JP was actually impressed.

“Uh . . . things,” I say.

“Things? That’s so descriptive. Wow, I never would have thought.” I poke his stomach, causing him to laugh. “Seriously, what did you talk about?”

“The wedding and how you seem to care about me.”

“I do care about you.” He pulls me in closer so I can rest my head on his chest. “You’re important to me. Did you tell them how I’ve been your knight in shining armor when it comes to The Beave?”

“In so many words but not quite that eccentric.”

“I think it’s important to know that I’ve been the hero of this journey down the aisle. It’s vastly important.”

“To whom?”

“The world.”

“You’re so ridiculous.”

“Maybe, but you were the one who made me the Pickle of Honor.”

“How could I possibly forget?” I ask as his hand strokes my shoulder. It feels nice to have human contact. Not just groping hands and pecks on the cheek. Does Brian miss me when he’s gone? Miss holding me? Touching me?

“I’d hope that you wouldn’t. Did you talk about anything else?”

“A few things,” I answer. “But nothing I want to talk about in the backyard of your brother’s house.”

“Okay, shall we leave, then?”

“We don’t have to. I mean, it’s nothing important.”

“Yeah, but if we stay any longer, JP will make me drink another Bloody Mary, and I don’t think I can stomach it. I nursed the one he gave me two hours ago and then dumped it in a bush when they weren’t looking.”

“No, you didn’t.”

He points at a shapely bush off to the right near the fence gate. “That one, right there, if it starts to die, we will know why.”

“Aah, just another secret I’ll have to hang over your head.”

“OKAY.” Breaker flops onto his couch and puts his hands behind his head. “Give me all the dirt. What did you talk about?”

When we returned to our apartment building, I went to my place and changed because there was no way I was lounging around Breaker’s apartment in a dress. I switched over to a pair of flannel shorts and a regular T-shirt. I also washed off my makeup because it made my eyes feel weird. Breaker changed into his athletic shorts and a shirt that features the art of the inner workings of a computer. He thinks it’s cool, and I tell him it’s one of the nerdiest things he owns.

“It’s really not that big a deal,” I say as I sit cross-legged on his couch and clutch a throw pillow.

“It has to be a big deal if you didn’t want to talk about it in Huxley’s backyard. So spill, Lia, what is it?”

“God, you’re annoying. Fine, but you can’t tease me or make fun of me about it, okay? I’m sort of sensitive about the topic.”

“Okay,” he says as he sits up and turns toward me. “What is it?”

“Well, Myla started the conversation off with how, uh . . . her and Ryot were . . . enjoying themselves.”

“Having sex?” Breaker asks.

“Yes, having sex. And before you say that’s not a big deal, it is a big deal because we normally don’t talk about those things, so I feel weird, okay?”

“Okay,” he says soothingly, and I’m glad he’s sensed my tone and is not going to make fun of me.

“So she was talking about how Ryot is really good at giving . . . oral, and then Kelsey and Lottie chimed in. I just felt weird because Brian really doesn’t do that, and when I try to give him . . . that, he pushes me away and says that . . . well, that I’m not that great at it.”

“He said that to you?” Breaker asks, his brows narrowing in anger.

“Not precisely with those words, but yeah. And I don’t know, listening to them talk about their sex lives, it made me think that maybe I need to step it up, you know? Maybe I need to try harder.”

“Doubtful,” he says while looking away.

“You don’t know that. Maybe I suck in bed.”

“Ophelia,” he says, his voice terse. “You wouldn’t suck in bed.”

“You don’t know that. For all we know, I could be a real dead fish. I mean, I thought I knew what I was doing when it came to a blow job, but maybe I don’t.” My eyes connect with his. “Like . . . what do you enjoy when a woman is down there?”

He pulls on the back of his neck. “Every guy is different.”

“But it’s a mouth on your penis. I’m pretty sure any guy enjoys a mouth on their penis, so . . . what do you like?”

He clears his throat. He’s uncomfortable. Of course he is. God, I bet he’s never had to complain about one of his hookups being bad in bed. They’ve probably all had more experience than I have, especially given he’s the prodigious man stud in bed. No wonder he’s uncomfortable. He’s the sexiest Cane brother with wicked talents.

“You know what, never mind. This was stupid. I shouldn’t have brought it up. It’s just that I don’t think my sex life is good, and shouldn’t it be good right before I get married? Shouldn’t we be having sex all the time? Phone sex even? We just . . . aren’t. He goes to bed and doesn’t even spoon me. I keep telling myself it’s because he’s exhausted from work, but . . . Huxley and JP and Ryot are tired, but they still—”

“I like when the girl plays with the tip slowly at first,” he says, his voice deep, almost tortured. He lifts his gaze toward me, and I register what he said. His stare is so intense that I’m immediately captured. Drawn. “I like to be teased, taunted, unsure if I’ll be granted permission to enter her mouth. I like it when she drags her tongue around the head, then flicks the underside over and over until I’m so hard, I’m aching for more.” My cheeks heat. I’m transfixed. “I love cupping her cheek to show her that if she wants to take me, I want her to. And when she does suck me into her warm, wet mouth, I love watching her eyes, seeing them water, seeing how she can take me all the way back to her throat. And as she’s pumping me in and out, I fucking beg for the lightest drag of her teeth over my length, just enough to tantalize me.”

“Oh,” I say as I shift, my body heated. This is . . . this is the first time I’ve ever heard him talk like this, and it’s making me feel all kinds of tingly. “And, uh . . . that will make you orgasm?”

“Hard,” he answers. “And I prefer my girl to swallow, as I like watching her throat work while I stiffen in her mouth.”

My mouth has gone dry.

And a dull throb is pulsing between my legs because oh my God, I never would have expected this from him. I mean, sure, I knew there was a dirty side to him—I’ve heard it—but teeth dragging . . . this is what the girls were talking about, this very thing.

“I see.” I nod slowly. “Well, that was informative.”

“What do you like when it comes to a guy going down on you?” he asks.

“Umm, well . . . I’m not quite sure because Brian doesn’t really do that.”

“I would,” he says quickly while wetting his lips. Speaking directly to me, his eyes so intense, he says, “I’d go down on my girl. Because I’m desperate to taste her, please her, and drive her wild, I’d slowly spread her legs and work my way up her inner thighs, teasing her. I’d drop kisses over every inch until I could see her dripping for me. Ready for my tongue to devour her. Her clit would be so hard I’d be able to flick it with my tongue. She’d be panting, nearly breathless. My fingers would widen her lips so I could drag my tongue over her clit in one long stroke.”

Oh fuck, why can I feel that?

“That’s, uh”—I squeeze my legs together—“that would be nice.”

“That would be only the beginning. I love to hear my girl scream, to pull on my hair, to dig her heels so far into my back that I feel it the next day. I love to suck on her clit, taste her, pulse my fingers into her, and make my face sloppy with her arousal. And then, I like to do it all over again. I take. I fucking take every last ounce of pleasure from her, and then that’s when I let myself come when I know that she has nothing left to give me.”

My skin breaks out in a sweat as a dull throb starts to pulse through my veins.

I smack my lips together. “Well, that, uh, that is not the way Brian does it.” Not even close. “So this was educational. Maybe I should try the whole tongue-flicking thing.”

“Do you want to try it?” he asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you want to go down on Brian?”

“I mean, isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?”

“You’re not supposed to do anything. But when a woman goes down on me, it’s because she wants to, because she finds my cock so enticing that she can’t function without tasting me. I want my girl to be desperate, needy, and begging for me, so when she does take me in her mouth, she worships it. Just like I would worship her aching pussy.”

Jesus . . . hell. Because she finds my cock so enticing that she can’t function without tasting me. Just like I would worship her aching pussy.

Hearing him say pussy is next level. How it rolls off his tongue with ease as if he says it all the time. And he probably does. This conversation has shown me exactly the type of man he is when he’s intimate with a woman. Dirty talking, desirous, dominating. A stark contrast from the sweet, funny best friend I know so dearly.

“Well, I want to pleasure him,” I say. “I think everyone wants to be able to pleasure their partner.” Do I find Brian’s cock so enticing that I can’t function without tasting him? Obviously not.

“What do you do with him?” he asks as he scoots closer to me, placing just a few inches between us now so our knees knock together and his arm is draped right behind me.

Can he tell how . . . turned on I am from this conversation? Can he feel the heat coming off me? Can he see my rosy cheeks or see the light sheen of sweat that has broken out over my skin?

God, I hope not.

“Uh, what do I do with Brian? Well.” I clear my throat, feeling uncomfortable. I’m the one who started this conversation, so I might as well go all in. “We obviously kiss.”

“That’s a given,” he says, his eyes falling to my lips.

I have to look away because it almost seems like there’s hunger in his pupils, but that could just be the heightened awareness from what he just said. “And you know, touch each other. He fondles my breasts and, uh”—I swallow—“I touch his balls and penis. But, we kind of just get into it, you know? He really likes to fuck me from behind.”

Oh my God, I can’t believe I just said that. My cheeks are burning with embarrassment.

Breaker tugs on a strand of my hair and twists it around his finger. “Does he spank you while he’s fucking you?”

“What?” My eyes widen before I shake my head. “No. He’s never spanked me.”

“Shame. Bet you would get wet from it.” Dear Jesus. “Do you strip for him?” he asks, his voice so deep that I’m barely comprehending what he’s asking.

I rub my thighs gently, trying to keep my mind on his question and not his responses. “I did a few times.”

“Lap dance?”

“Uh, not really. But I have purchased some lingerie that I know he liked. It was black see-through lace.”

Breaker wets his lips again and nods. “That’s hot, Lia.”

“Yeah?” I ask, my cheeks now flaming.

“Very hot. I love when my girl wears lingerie. I love when she wants to dress up for me, show me her body, grind on me. It’s all about the teasing, so even if you’re not comfortable at giving a lap dance, trust me, if you were in lingerie and just lightly grinding on my dick, I’d be fucking ecstatic.”

“But . . . what do I do, just sit there?”

“And move your hips. It’s his job to further the moment by running his hands up your thighs like this,” he says as he drags his fingers over my leg, shooting a punch of lust straight between my thighs.

Fuck, that feels good.

“Oh,” I say breathlessly.

“And he’s supposed to smooth his hand over your stomach, especially if you’re facing the other direction, your back to his chest. He’s supposed to attempt to touch your breasts but not really touch them. He’s supposed to get close, to run his finger along the underside but pull away. He’s supposed to turn you on so much that when he moves his hand back down your stomach and plays with the waistband of your underwear that your legs part even wider. You should be wet, throbbing, so turned on that you’re ready to come when he slips his fingers right against your clit.”

I can’t breathe.

I can’t speak.

I can barely hear him over the roar of my pulse in my ears.

Turned on . . . yeah, I’m there.

I know that I’m wet, I know that I’m throbbing, and that Breaker knows exactly how to entice a woman.

“Does he finger you?”

“Umm . . . sometimes,” I say.

“Does he suck on his fingers after he fingers you?”

“Uh, no, that’s not Brian.”

“That’s the best fucking part,” Breaker says as he wets his lips. “I love tasting a woman. I love having the flavor of her on my tongue as I drive into her.”

“Oh, yeah, Brian has not done that,” I say stupidly as I try to look away from his magnetic eyes.

“How does he fuck you? Does he tie you down? Does he let you ride him? Does he use toys?”

I swallow and wish at this moment that I had a drink, anything to quench my thirst from this conversation.

“Just regular, you know, nothing too fancy. Like, we do, uh, different positions, but nothing outside of that realm.” I cover my face and say, “This is so embarrassing.”

“Why?” he asks, lowering my hands from my face.

“Because clearly you’re more voracious in bed, and I look like a basic, vanilla bean girl compared to you.”

“Don’t compare yourself. That’s the first way to make yourself feel bad.”

“It’s hard not to compare when discussing toys and tying up. And then the girls earlier with all their talk about how their men like going down on them. Maybe . . . maybe something is wrong with me.”

Breaker forcefully grips my chin, and when our eyes lock, he says, “Nothing is wrong with you. Fucking nothing. It’s all about chemistry and maybe . . . maybe you just don’t have that with Brian.” Why do I have a feeling he might be right? “Tying you up, using toys, is that the kind of stuff you want?”

“I don’t know what I want, I just . . . I think I want more than what I have now.”

“You deserve more,” he says, his voice choppy now. “Your pussy deserves to be tongued, consumed, and fucked so hard that you can’t walk the next day.” My breath grows heavy, the air becoming harder and harder to suck in. “You’re so fucking sexy, Lia, and if it were me—”

Knock. Knock.

If it were you, what? I want to scream as he turns to look at the door.

I catch the narrowing of his brows and wonder if he knows who is here, because whoever it is, he doesn’t seem too happy about it.

“Who is that?” I ask, as if Breaker can see through the door.

“No idea.” And for the first time since I’ve known him, I watch him walk toward the door, my mind focusing on his backside, the tightness of his ass accompanied by what he just said to me. You’re so fucking sexy, Lia.

I play that on repeat, over and over, until I hear him answer the door. “Oh, hey. Uh, what are you doing here?”

“Is Lia here?”

Brian? He’s here?

I move over to the entryway, where I see Brian with a single duffel bag in hand.

“Brian, I thought you were on your business trip.”

He glances at Breaker and then back at me. “I was, but I didn’t like our last conversation, so I returned for the night. I have to leave first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Oh.” I twist my hands in front of me, my body temperature immediately cooling down.

“Can we go to your place, please?” His eyes plead.

“Yeah, can you just give me one second? I’ll meet you over there,” I answer as I stand there awkwardly.

“Sure.” Brian glances at Breaker. “Good to see you, man.”

“Yeah, you too,” Breaker says as Brian takes off. Breaker shuts the door and sifts his hand through his hair. I catch the bottom of his shirt lift to show off the waistband of his briefs. “So Brian’s home.”

“He is,” I answer. “That was unexpected.”

“Very.” Breaker leans against his hallway wall, looking almost defeated. I can’t imagine why, though. “So you should probably go talk to him.”

I take a step forward. This need to touch him is so overwhelming, but I hold back because I’m not sure what would happen if I did. If I gave in to this mystifying sensation that’s pulsing through my blood. I might not be able to stop myself. “Yeah, I probably should.” I toe the ground, needing to say something else, so I ask, “Should I talk to him about sex?”

His sharp eyes focus on me as he says, “I mean, if you want to. If you think it’s a good time.”

“I think it needs to be said, don’t you? We’re getting married in four weeks.”

“That you are,” he huffs and then pushes off the wall. “Yes, Lia, go tell him what you desire, and don’t be afraid to tell him everything.” Breaker takes a step forward, closing the space between us. He pushes a stray hair behind my ear and speaks softly. “Tell him you want his tongue between your legs. Tell him you want him to tease you, to taunt you, to make you feel so goddamn wet that you could just come from him rolling your nipples between his fingers.”

My breath becomes shallow again, and my eyes fall to his lips as he continues, “Tell him you want him to fuck you. To fuck you so mercilessly that you can’t take the constant hammering of his dick inside you until you come so hard that you can’t think of sex any other way but carnal.”

My lungs seize.

My toes tingle.

And my body is tempted to crumple right here on the floor from the erotic energy running through me.

I want that.

I want that carnal feeling he speaks of.

I want to feel a man so deep inside me that it makes my eyes well with tears.

I want to be stretched, licked, and fucked to the point that I can’t remember anything besides this undeniable feeling of him and only him.

“What if he doesn’t want to fuck me?” I whisper, my insecurity rearing up.

Breaker pauses and loops his index finger under my chin. He lifts my gaze to meet his. Very carefully, he says, “Then he’s not the man for you because, Lia . . . you deserve to be fucked. Just like you deserve to be worshiped. Hard.”

And before I can say another thing, he walks away.