“To be my friend? Because I don’t think that’s realistic,” I say, pulling away from him. What does that even mean, get to know me?
I’m beginning to feel uncomfortable. Like maybe I’m misreading this attraction, and it really is one sided.
I’m hardly experienced. He fucks random women, and I definitely don’t fuck random men. I’ve been with one guy. One… and he fucked my mother.
“I’m not asking to be your friend. I’m saying I’m interested in the possibility of more. Fuck, I’ve been thinking about you for months, pissed at myself for not asking for your number,” he says. “I think it’s pretty apparent that I’m very attracted to you.”
“So, what are you saying?” I ask not having any clarity about anything except that I’m not alone in being attracted.
“Would you like to go on a date with me?” he asks softly.
“Will you shower before we go out?” I tease. I’m nervous. Did he just ask me out? Did that just happen?
I see Caine’s lips twitch before he says, “I can commit to taking a shower.”
“Then I can commit to going on a date with you,” I say. Then I frown… wait. “Tonight doesn’t count.”
“Ah, hell no,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m taking you out on a real date,” he says with a big white toothy grin. “Now will you come back into the kitchen and have dinner with me?”
“Your brother hates me.”
“I don’t hate you! And you really do need to get a painting or something, Caine, I could hear that entire conversation,” Lance says.
My face burns like fire, and I bury my face in Caine’s chest. I feel Caine’s laughter vibrate through his body. Then he tilts my chin up and bends down and I suck in my breath when his lips touch mine.
Soft, gentle lips take mine, and I find my hands moving up around his neck. Hishands cup my butt and squeeze. When his tongue skims the seam of my lips, I shudder against him. It’s like I’m floating, and my body is electrified.
I part my lips and tilt my head, and he deepens the kiss, our tongues dancing as our lips tangle. I’m breathless when he pulls back.
“My God,” I whisper, my eyes still closed.
It’s as though I can still feel his lips on mine. They feel swollen and tingle from his touch.
I open my eyes as Caine takes my hand, and we walk into the kitchen. Was he affected at all?
Lance is at the stove, removing the rice. He’s already plated the small roast I had found in the freezer.
“Let’s have dinner,” Lance says. And I sit beside Caine at the table.
Lance opens a bottle of wine and pours himself and Caine a glass.
“Only half for Mikayla,” Caine says when Lance begins to pour a glass for me.
“Are you serious?” I ask. “I’m not going anywhere,” I point out.
“Did you eat today?”
“Did you?” I ask defensively. What is he getting at?
Caine frowns. “I did.” He glares at me but nods.
“Well, I had breakfast,” I say, turning away.
Why is he being so rude?
“Why didn’t you eat lunch?” he asks, forcing me to look at him. “At the restaurant—when we met, you hadn’t eaten before dinner either.”
“I lost track of time.”
