Four Seconds to Lose (Ten Tiny Breaths, #3)(79)

“You okay? You’ve been quieter than usual today.” I turn to find Ginger watching me intently.

“Yeah, fine. Just tired,” I murmur through another yawn. I feel like I could sleep for days.

“Late night?”

“Yeah.” I help myself to a carrot. Tired and hungry. I haven’t eaten all day. My body is all kinds of messed up.

“Hmm . . . So, did you finally break that stoic horse and work him in good?”

“Ginger!” My wide eyes dart over to Tanner. He’s within earshot, but his back is to us and he keeps it that way. Given that he’s avoided all eye contact with me since my near-nude fiasco with the deliveryman yesterday, I’m not surprised.

Thankfully, Storm passes through the doorway at that precise moment, balancing two bowls against her belly, exclaiming loudly, “Chow time!” Cain trails behind her, his strong arms laden down with more food. I noticed earlier that he kept a bit of the scruff on his face, shaving everywhere except the area around his chin and mouth.

I really loved the feel of that soft scratch against my skin.

My heart automatically starts racing and I catch myself smiling, memories of last night hitting me deep in my belly. All other realities fade into the background and my problems somehow become less urgent, less serious. That’s what being around Cain does for me. He’s a mental shield against all that is bad in my life. Even stripping onstage turned into something I could sort of enjoy—in a twisted way—because of him.

“Cain! We were just talking about you,” Ginger chirps, relishing any opportunity to tease her boss.

“I’ll bet,” he mutters dryly, disappearing behind me to place the platters down on a side table. A second later, I feel cool hands curl around my neck and his index fingers slowly trace along my collarbone.

He must feel the hard swallow in my throat as I try to calm myself. What is he doing? Does he want everyone to know that we slept together last night?

Or . . . are we a thing now?

“Sorry to be rude, but the spawn demands food,” Storm murmurs, not waiting to load a plate for herself. “Ladies, help yourselves before those rabid men come out. They forget their manners sometimes.” Cain makes a point of pulling my chair out as I stand, his hands giving my waist an affectionate squeeze as I pass by, sending a thrill through my stomach. Storm happens to glance over her shoulder at that precise moment to catch Cain’s hand on me and a sly smile touches her lips. I’m happy to see it’s not a venom-laced sneer, like the one I’d expect from China.

Still, I wonder if they ever slept together. I wonder if he’d tell me the truth, if I asked. I wonder if I even want to know the truth. The idea of Cain with another woman—or women—makes me grit my teeth.

I just make it back to the table with a plate of food when the processional of large men files through the door. Cain’s hands once again finds my bare skin, his thumb rubbing up and down my spine, giving a light tug at the string on my bikini top, as if ready to untie it, as he pushes my chair in all the way. If I focus intently enough, I can still feel him inside me. I really shouldn’t think about that right now.

I didn’t expect this. I didn’t expect him to be so open about whatever is between us.

I didn’t expect to want it so badly.

My heart skips a beat as he takes a seat next to me, instead of at the outdoor sectional couch where Nate’s already making himself comfortable. Leaning in, his mouth grazes over my ear as he whispers, “Sorry, but after last night, I won’t be able to keep my hands off of you.” It sends a shiver through me. “I hope you’re okay with that.”

By the smirk touching his face, he damn well knows I am more than okay with it. By the glance down at my bikini top, no doubt noticing the two tiny protruding bumps, he can now see proof of it, too.

I sit quietly as he pours a glass of water for me. “Tell me if you want something stronger and I’ll get it from the bar for you, okay?” I nod but say nothing. Cain doting on me hits me deep in the chest, in an emotional wave that’s both soothing and crippling.

“You serving women today, Cain?” Ginger calls out with an impish grin as she slaps Ben’s muscular ass and cuts in front of him to load her plate. “Or just the one you’re trying to impress?”

“He can be a smooth f*cker if he wants to—” Ben’s mutter is cut off with a sharp elbow to his gut from Ginger and a bark of “language!” from Storm. Ben’s eyes instantly flash to the eight-year-old quietly hanging onto our every word from her seat next to Nate. He winces an apology to Storm.

“Here. Keep quiet.” As if to prevent anything more from coming out of Ben’s mouth, Ginger shoves three carrot sticks into it. He grins lasciviously at her but doesn’t utter another word, busy chomping down like a horse.

“So, Charlie . . . Ginger told me you were a gymnast?” Storm says.

I nod slowly, wondering what else Ginger and Storm have talked about that involves me.

“You should come by my acrobatics school. I’ll be looking for a part-time coach soon, given . . .” A manicured index finger points toward her waist as she spoons some pasta salad into her mouth.

“Oh . . .” I feel my brow knit tightly. “I don’t know the first thing about acrobatics.”

She waves a dismissive hand as she chews and swallows. “These kids need to keep up with basic fundamentals as well. I’ll bet you’d be good with those. And I’d pay you, of course.”