Page 92 of Breaking Point

My chest squeezes, but as the shower flips on, I force myself to get ready for the day. Downstairs, I grab two quick mugs of coffee and scrounge up a quick plate of food as Mom stares out the window overlooking the garden.

Lost in thought, she doesn’t hear that I’m behind her until I squeeze her shoulders, kissing her cheek. “Full day ahead?” she smiles, turning to hug me, mug still in-hand.

“Gotta finish this project at some point.”

“Probably,” she sighs, but her eyes make a quick flickering assessment of me. Her smile is even more pronounced now.

“What?” I quiz, though I’m sure I know what she’s looking at.

Me.The tension from my shoulders, gone. The ache in my neck, dissipated. It’s like a wave of clarity has fallen over me, and the longer she looks, the closer she comes to figuring it all out.

“Nothing.” She shrugs innocently, but I know it’s a cop out because when the door opens, and Liv steps inside, freshly showered, looking sunkissed and devastating, the pieces click by themselves.

She looks perfect, hair braided back, skin tanned, clothes hugging every curve. No sign of the mess we made last night.

God, if only I could fix that.

I want to drag her back to bed and ruin her hair again. Kiss her lips until they’re bruised red.

“Good morning,” she says to Mom, but her skin flushes under my eyes. She crosses toward the coffee-maker where I left her cup for her.

Mom’s smile brightens. “Did she tell you we’re going decor shopping today?”

“Not in so many words,” I smirk as Liv avoids my eye.

“You’re welcome to come, of course,” Mom offers, but I know she’s just being polite. She would probably fight me before she ever let me touch her precious home decor.

“You two seem perfectly capable of staying out of trouble on your own.” I smile, sipping my drink.

Mom gasps, feigning distaste. “Who told you that?”

I shake my head with a smirk. “See you later.”

Olivia’s unpacking a box of mugs when I finish up. She doesn’t look up even when I flip on the lights of the penthouse. As she sets the last green mug in the cupboard, I find myself walking over to greet her. Almost like a habit.

“What do ya think?” she asks as she hops off the counter and takes a step back to admire her handy work.

It looks good in here.

Modern but lived in. There’s splashes of blue and green decor about the kitchen and the living room, and I smile at the evidence of Olivia Hughes everywhere. But I can’t find the right words to express anything.

“I like it,” I say instead.

She’s watching me, and I don’t know why I can’t find it in myself to look back. “Does it bother you that I’m helping your mom decorate?” she asks quietly.

I’m debating the right thing to say.

Do I tell her that just the thought of her making the place her own makes me ache? That the thought of visiting and seeing traces of her sends my heart into overdrive?

“Not at all. This-“ I curse myself for not having the right words. “I love what you’ve done with the place,” I tug at her ponytail playfully, glad when she smiles. “I’m sorry. My mind is elsewhere. Work. Taylor- the new baby. Your dad,” I add, and when her smile shrinks even further, I don’t stop myself from letting my hand find her chin, forcing her eyes upward. “I’m saying all the wrong things right now.”

“No.” I trace that sliver of her smile with my thumb. “I’m thinking about all of that too. The world doesn’t stop for anyone.” Her breath catches when I tug at her bottom lip playfully, and I love that her blue eyes darken with desire. “If your mother knew all of the things we’ve done in this penthouse, she would never invite me back.”

I smirk at the devious look on her face. “You know, I was just thinking…” I say, lifting her so that both of her legs are wrapped around me. “I haven’t had you on this counter yet.”

When she feels how hard I am, her hips roll forward, grinding into me. I groan, unable to help myself as I bridge the gap and kiss her like I’ve wanted to all day. She tastes like sugar and honey, and even as I set her on the counter, I drag her closer. Taste her deeper. Kiss her until she’s trembling at my touch.

My hands slide to the front button of her shorts, flipping them open. Her lips find my neck, her tongue tracing a hot path down my jaw. My thoughts disappear. I’m helpless against herassault, dragging her shirt into my fists as her teeth find the hollow in my throat and drag a tortured sound from me.

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