Hero (Hero 1)

I glanced up, taken by surprise at the sudden appearance of Caine. He approached my desk, eyes alight with humor. I spun around to face him in my chair and grinned back. “I could tell you, but I won’t.”

Encroaching on my personal space, he stopped so his knees were almost touching my legs and I had to arch my neck to look up at his face. His eyes washed over mine before roaming lower. They lingered a little longer than appropriate on my legs before traveling upward. “I’m going to be here a little late tonight, but you should head home. I’ll have my driver take you.”

This was different too. Usually Caine delighted in cutting into my personal time. “Are you sure you don’t need me?”

His eyelids lowered slightly in an unconscious smolder that sent off a rush of tingles between my legs. “Not just now. But I’ll come by your place when I’m finished up here.”

“My place?”

“Mmm.” He put his hands on my armrests and leaned into me so our mouths were about an inch apart. His hot breath whispered across my lips. “I’ll text you when I’m on my way.”

My whole body tightened at the thought of what he’d do to me once he got to my apartment. I sounded a little breathless when I replied, “Shouldn’t you wait to be invited first?”

His eyes narrowed. “Lexie, may I come to your apartment tonight so I can fuck your brains out?”

Lust whooshed in my lower belly.

I lifted my gaze from his mouth to his eyes and a smile tickled my lips. “I suppose that would be okay.”

That was when he grinned at me—a full-on grin that made my heart flutter and turned me into a puddle of warm mush.

I was still staring at his office door in wonder minutes after he’d disappeared inside it.

Sun poured in through my windows, illuminating Caine as he sat at my breakfast bar, sipping coffee and reading the Saturday paper. I tried to keep my attention on the omelet I was making for us, but I found I was easily distracted by the fact that Caine was sitting, casual as you please, in my apartment waiting on breakfast.

The night before, I’d waited with those darn butterflies in my stomach for Caine to finish up his work and come to me. I killed time by calling Rachel and updating her on the situation. She thought it was exciting and announced she wanted absolutely every detail so she could live vicariously through me. Grandpa called not long after my conversation with Rach. I’d thought when I heard from him I would be able to confront him about the blood money he’d offered Caine’s dad. But I found the words stuck low in my throat, painful and resistant. I told myself that when I finally saw him in person, we’d discuss it. It wasn’t a conversation I could just start up over the phone. Yet the truth was … I was scared. I wanted Grandpa to have a reason that made sense for what he did, but I knew that he couldn’t. I knew no reason would be good enough, and I wasn’t quite ready to face the reality that he wasn’t the man I thought he was. So when he asked me if I’d found a new job I told him Caine and I had worked it out and I was going to remain in his employ. Somehow Grandpa read between the lines and he was not happy. But that didn’t bother me like it would have yesterday. Who was he to be disappointed in me, after all?

After the phone call with my grandfather I pushed him to the back of my mind in favor of overanalyzing this thing with Caine. I went over and over whether I was doing the right thing. I swung back and forth, reaching for my cell to call Caine and tell him not to come to me. But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t do it because I wasn’t ready to give him up.

Just before midnight I let Caine into my building and opened the door to him. I was wearing a tiny silk camisole and matching shorts.

The tiredness in the back of his eyes faded when he took me in. He’d stepped into the apartment, kicked the door shut behind him, pressed me back against the wall, and slid his hands up to my waist. His lips brushed mine. “I was wrong. This is what you should wear to work.”

My laughter had been swallowed up in his deep, hot kiss.

Sex this time had been slower, headier, as Caine took his time getting to know my body and allowing me to get to know his. We’d only drifted to sleep a few hours before dawn, but Caine was an early riser. In every way. And that meant I was awake early too, although I wasn’t complaining. An orgasm was a nice way to say hello to the day.

And now here I was.

Making him breakfast in my kitchen like we did this all the time.

I put his omelet down in front of him and slid onto the stool opposite him to dig into mine.

“Thank you,” he said before cutting into it.

“You’re welcome.”

We ate in silence and I realized that Caine seemed perfectly happy for us to remain in silence.

I frowned.

Suddenly the whole kitchen scenario didn’t give me the warm fuzzies.

When Caine said he wanted this to be an affair, he literally meant sex. Just sex. And the occasional quiet breakfast, obviously.

Hmm.

I wanted to get to know him better, but how did I go about drawing him into conversations that actually meant something?

Well, first you need to get him talking. About anything.

“Why my apartment?” I blurted out.

When Caine looked up from the paper, confusion wrinkled his brow. “What?”

“Why did you come to me? I could have come to you. Is it because of Effie?”

“No.” Caine shook his head and returned to his paper. “I just like your apartment.”