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Since when did they become the homey type? Whether I liked it or not, the place looks nice and welcoming.
Watching him move gracefully through my kitchen makes my nipples harden behind the soft material of my bra and tank top. I know I should have better control over my body but…uhh…I can’t seem to help it.
Worse, my body doesn’t want to stop there. I’m flushed and my pussy clenches with excitement, craving one hundred percent of his attention as he turns, beaming at me.
“I guess you drew the short straw?” I say and push deeper into the kitchen. His sweatpants are slung low over his hips with not a stitch of anything else to block the beautiful sight of all that muscle. And the sexy dusting of hair.
I sink onto a barstool and lean on my elbows. His eyes track my movements.
“Morning, sweetheart.” He walks around the counter and wraps me in a hug, holding me tight like I’m his and we do this sort of thing every morning. His lips feel wonderful against my cheek one second and then he’s gone. Back to his duties.
He reaches over and pours a fresh mug of coffee for me, giving me another shot of his fine ass in those nicely faded sweats I know must be super soft.
Seven years has added a few creases along his brow and the corners of his eyes that have him looking wiser and more handsome. He’s tall. Taller than me, but that’s not saying much. I only come to just under his chin at five-five. Broad, muscled shoulders, taut pecs and a trim waist, and bulging biceps complete the beautiful package.
I feel the exact thrill of old sensations run through me, knowing how our bodies could feel when pressed together.
Though they are only a few months apart in age, Cain is the only one who looks anything like the younger version of himself. I spy him through the window pulling a lawnmower out of a small shed tucked close to the cabin.
“Still two sugars?” he asks.
“Huh? Oh, yes, please.” I turn and take the cup of coffee Linc offers, my fingers brushing over his lightly. “Thanks. You know you don’t have to do this. I can cook.”
“Why should you when you have three strong men here to take care of you?”
Really? I barely keep my mouth from swinging open. I take my lip between my teeth and raise my mug to my lips. No matter what I do I can’t hide the flush that seems to never disappear so I don’t try. Since last night’s fiasco, I’ve basically come to the acceptance I’m always going to be red around them.
Mug in hand, I push up from the stool and pretend to ignore what he’s said. “You’re brave cooking bacon shirtless,” I point out. Anything to change the topic.
Typical Linc, he shrugs like it’s no different than picking flowers. Leaning a hip on the counter, I snag a few pieces of bacon from the plate and let my eyes slide closed for just a moment. Can’t be mad at a man cooking your bacon.
“It’s all about precision.”
My eyes dart to his.
He holds up a lid to shield the popping grease and wields a black spatula as some makeshift sword.
I can’t help but laugh. But on the flip side, seeing him like this, playing house like everything is hunky-dory, just makes my heart ache for times lost.
Damn it.
I draw back. I’ll enjoy my coffee, eat the bacon and then after that be on my way since they refuse to budge.
I take my cup of coffee and stroll out to the deck to see Cain with his shirt tucked into his back pocket, ball cap turned around and sweat running over fine rippling muscles as he fights back the weeds that have overtaken the front yard, the lawnmower left off to the side.
I guess I really wasn’t dreaming last night.
The creak of the spring on the screen door sounds, and in the next second Lincoln is standing behind me, smoothing his arm around my waist.
I turn my head and look up at him. “What are you doing?” I ask, placing my empty hand over his.
Instead of answering, he holds out a toasted bagel with peach jam and passes it under my nose.
“Peace offering?”
“Oh no,” I groan, knowing my resolve is about to cave. “That’s not fair.” My brows pinch. “Mom’s jam?” I swivel my head, locking eyes with him. “I guess that’s where you got the curtains and coffeemaker?” I ask, already knowing the obvious.
He pulls my ass flush against him, causing me to shiver. Let me tell you, old worn sweats do nothing to hide a man’s hard cock and he feels like steel pressed into the crease of my ass. Shorts or no shorts, there’s no missing the promise he’s saying without the use of words.
