He locked his gaze on hers. “That just makes us even.”
Okay, so they were on the same page. She liked that. A lot.
“You’re staring at my mouth again,” he said. “Last time you did that, you kissed me.”
She felt her pulse spike and bit her lower lip.
He studied her. “Or maybe you want me to kiss you this time.”
She reached up and touched his mouth. His lips were somehow both soft and firm. And warm and—
His hand wrapped around her wrist, holding one of her fingers to his mouth so he could close his teeth over the tip. Sort of gently, sort of not. Sucking in a breath, she squirmed as heat bolted through her, and then went still when his tongue soothed the nip he’d just given her.
She actually shook with need. She wasn’t one to do this, to . . . yearn and ache, like maybe she’d pass out if he didn’t touch her. Mostly she rushed through her day for the simple pleasure of going to bed, which she did alone. Yes, she’d had relationships, even serious ones. But she had a problem with true intimacy that she could hide for only so long before she self-destructed and ruined the things that made her happy.
Ryland being her last example. The firefighter had told her he wanted more, he wanted her everything, and if she couldn’t give it to him, others would.
Apparently, that had been very true.
But this, a small voice inside her said, this isn’t like that. This, with Cam, wasn’t going anywhere. It couldn’t, so there was no pressure to think about the future, no pressure to make a promise to love someone when she wasn’t even sure she could. There were no what-ifs. There was no chance of hurting anyone, or worse, getting hurt. Buoyed by that realization, she stepped into Cam and ran her free hand up his chest.
“That doesn’t feel like a no,” he murmured.
“It isn’t.”
He stared at her for a single breath, and then pulled her into him and kissed her, a succulent, sensuous, delicious kiss with a lot of tongue that had her instantly forgetting about the stress of her job, her siblings, her life. Everything.
When they’d run out of air, they pulled back and stared at each other. “Still scary,” she whispered.
“Yeah.” He was breathing no steadier than she was, which was reassuring. If he’d been as confident about this as he appeared to be in every other aspect of his life, she might’ve had to hurt him.
By mutual silent agreement, they entered Emmitt’s house through the back door and into the kitchen, where Piper checked his vitals.
“Looks good,” she said, amazed to find her voice still husky, her body still humming. “And I brought a surprise.”
“Tell me it’s food,” Emmitt said.
“It’s food.” She pulled out the stuff from her duffel bag that she’d gotten on the way home. “How does breakfast for dinner sound?”
“Perfect,” Emmitt said.
Cam came up to her side. “What can I do?”
She smiled at him. “Just stand there and look pretty.”
Emmitt took a look at Cam’s face and laughed his ass off.
“I’m not pretty,” Cam finally said, as if she’d insulted him.
“Have you looked in the mirror?” his dad asked.
“Have you?” Cam countered.
“Yeah, and I’m pretty as hell.”
Piper laughed, but it wasn’t just that they looked alike. Both held their bodies in a way that conveyed confidence and an easy athleticism. And those matching intense eyes that could seem cold when they were thinking, but warmed when amused.
And in Cam’s case, she happened to know they also went scorching hot when he was aroused . . .
They also had the same square jaw, both scruffy at the moment, and matching facial expressions, currently dialed to Hungry Males. She imagined her siblings would be wearing matching hungry expressions about now too, but she’d texted them both asking if she should bring dinner and neither had responded.
“Don’t tease me,” Emmitt said seriously. “You know breakfast for dinner is my favorite thing on the planet. But you forbid me from having it.”
“I didn’t forbid you.” She began whipping up the ingredients and heating up pans. “I said you were doing it wrong. Too much fat, too much sugar.”
Cam pulled out some chocolate milk and poured a glass for everyone before setting the table.
Emmitt sniffed suspiciously at the turkey bacon and gluten-free, sugar-free pancakes now cooking. “It looks good.”
There was a knock at the back door, and Gavin walked in. “I smelled bacon.”
“I tried to reach you,” Piper said. “Go away. People who don’t respond to texts don’t get free food.”
“Come in,” Emmitt said, overruling her.
Cam set another place.
Two minutes later, Winnie showed up too. “Oh my God, I knew it. You’re all eating without me? You suck.” She sat at the table.
“Seriously?” Piper asked her.
Without missing a beat, Cam set another place.
“Sorry for the Manning family invasion,” Piper said to the room.
“Yeah,” Gavin said. “As a whole, we have boundary issues. I read that in one of Piper’s journals once.”
Everyone laughed except Piper, who pointed her fork at him.
“I like this,” Cam said. “A big family dinner. Rowan was always two thousand plus miles away. I felt like an only child.”
“My fault,” Emmitt said. “Your mom and I really thought it was best to each go our own way, and she couldn’t have handled a baby, and you were already almost grown, so . . .” He shook his head. “I don’t know what we were thinking. Honestly, we were only thinking about ourselves. It’s not right how we bungled things. I’ll never quite forgive myself, Cam, but I promise I’m working on being better.”
Cam eyed him for a long beat and then nodded. Easy acceptance, easy forgiveness.
Piper wasn’t at all sure she could have done either of those things.
They all served themselves and then sat as a group to dive in. It took Piper a minute to realize all chatter had died, replaced by silence. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing,” everyone said in unison, with no eye contact. Gee, not suspicious at all. She took a bite of her gluten-free, sugar-free pancakes and . . . choked.
“Oh my God. That’s”—she fought against wanting to spit it out—“disgusting.”
“Thank God,” Emmitt muttered.
“It’s gross,” Winnie whispered.
“What’s in the pancakes, sand?” Gavin asked.
Mortified, Piper started to gather the plates. “Maybe if I tried coconut sugar—”
“Sis, nothing could’ve saved that breakfast.” Gavin rose. “My turn.” And he headed to the kitchen. “Holy shit,” they heard him say, and he popped his head back out. “You left me a disaster in here.”
Piper shrugged. “I clean up afterward.”
“As you go,” Gavin said. “Always as you go.” He vanished again.
Winnie looked at Cam. “When do you leave?”
“I’ve still got several weeks off.”
“I meant the Coast Guard thing. You could get deployed at any time, right?”