Cannon (Carolina Reapers Book 5)

Ten. I crossed another day off in my mental calendar as I entered my kitchen. Our kitchen. I’d made it ten days without putting my hands on Persephone again, without falling into the shelter of her body and the bliss of the oblivion only she brought me.

Ten days.

Who cared that I walked around in a permanent state of arousal? As long as I wasn’t getting off, I wasn’t getting any closer to her, right? I wasn’t growing accustomed to the little make-up bag on my counter, or the junk food in my refrigerator. I sure as hell wasn’t making a habit out of reading with her at night, or cooking her breakfast in the morning. That was all just…well, circumstance.

This was all just fucking circumstance, and it would be over before we knew it.

But we were the only ones that knew it.

“Good morning,” Persephone said cheerfully as she came into the kitchen. Fuck me, she was wearing one of those little silk slip nightgowns she liked to torture me with, and her hair was up in that bun she slept in, but softer, now. She looked delectable and ready to be taken right back to the bed I’d tried to sneak out of.

“Hey,” I replied gruffly, grabbing a water out of the fridge and trying to look anywhere but at her fucking legs. The memory of having those wrapped around me, her soft thighs cradling my hips as I drove into her, hit me with the force of a tsunami.

“Where are you headed?” She rose on her tiptoes for a mug.

“Last informal pick-up game before preseason starts,” I answered, reaching over her head and grabbing the pale purple mug she favored.

“Thank you,” she said softly as I handed it to her.

“No problem.” I needed to move the mugs a shelf lower to accommodate her height, but doing that felt permanent like I was making room for her in a life that she really didn’t want. Room that would hollow out the moment she left. “What are your plans this morning?”

“I thought I’d bake a little. Mom isn’t feeling well, so I might run her over some chocolate chip cookies.” She leaned into the frig to get her coffee creamer, sending her slip riding up the back of her thighs.

I clenched the counter, wishing it was her hips in my hands, that I had her bent over this very counter, her feet dangling, utterly powerless to do anything but accept every thrust I wanted to give her.

“You like chocolate chip, right?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder.

“Peanut butter,” I replied, then cleared my throat. “Were you planning on getting dressed today?”

She shut the fridge and grinned. “What? You don’t like the color?” She trailed a hand from her ribs to her waist, then over her hip to play with the hem.

That little hellion knew exactly what she was doing to me. “I’m a fan of pink,” I admitted, stalking over to where she leaned against the counter. I caged her between my arms and stared at the contrast between my overwhelming ink and her bare, creamy skin. “I like the blue one better. Looks like pure fucking heaven with your eyes.”

Her lips parted.

Then I reached around her and grabbed a banana from the fruit basket. “I’ll see you later, Princess.” Then I pressed a kiss to her forehead because I had to. Those tiny touches were what kept me from losing my fucking mind around her.

“Bye, Cannon,” she whispered.

As I grabbed my gear bag from the mudroom, I turned, popping my head back into the kitchen, where she still stood, stirring sugar into her coffee. “By the way, I picked you up a little something at the store.” I motioned toward the fruit basket and headed toward the door.

“Oh my God. Cannon! Is this a freaking pomegranate!” she shouted at me.

“Well, I mean, you did call me Hades the other night,” I teased, my hand on the doorknob.

“Ugh!” She moaned loudly. “You swore you wouldn’t hold my drunken words against me!”

I couldn’t help it, I turned around and leaned into the kitchen again. “Yeah. Well. I guess I lied.” I grinned. “Now seriously, you have to change before I get back. You’re killing me in that.”

Her smile spread slowly as she gripped the hem of her slip, then pulled the damn thing completely off, leaving her in only a pair of white panties. “There, now it’s off.”

I looked my fill, taking in her high breasts, narrow waist, and the curve of her hips. “You know, people think I’m the devil in this relationship, but compared to you, I have a fucking halo over my head.”

“Want to see just how bad I can be?”

Yes.

“Nope. Gotta go. Enjoy your baking!” I fucking ran out of there before she learned exactly how reckless with her body I could be.

Three hours later, I sat on the bench in front of my locker, freshly showered, and tying my shoes.

“I think you might be even faster than last year,” Connell grumbled as he sat across from me. “I was kind of hoping I’d catch you.”

I lifted an eyebrow but didn’t respond. I’d been running and skating my ass off since I married Persephone, channeling that sexual frustration in any way that might help relieve the pressure. Nothing worked in that department, but I’d never been in better shape.

“Cannon,” Sterling asked from the corner of the locker room as he pinned something to the bulletin board. “Settle an argument for me.”

“What?” I finished tying my other shoe and sat up.

“You see, I think I’m your best man, but Briggs over there thinks he is.” He motioned to the new defenseman we’d just gotten on trade from Calgary. Rumor was the guy fucked the wrong woman and ended up losing his jersey, but their loss was our gain. Briggs had puck-handling skills that even I envied.

Briggs shook his head, rolling his eyes at Sterling.

“Logan is my best man.” I nodded to where Ward sat at my right.

“What? I was there. I drove you to the chapel!” Sterling’s jaw dropped. “Where is the love?”

“Right, and if Logan had been there…” I cut myself off before I finished that sentence. Logan wouldn’t have taken me to the chapel. He would have handcuffed me to a fucking radiator before he would have let me marry Persephone while we were both delirious.

Logan shot me a look that said he’d followed my line of thinking. “Right, and if I’d been there, I would have gotten way better camera footage.” He grinned at Sterling.

“So it’s official? You guys are making this thing real?” Axel asked from where he stood next to Lukas.

“Yep. Fancy ass venue and everything,” I answered.

Logan was the only person who knew the why of it. Well, and Delaney of course. He’d learned his lessons about keeping secrets from his woman. That had been a promise I’d given Persephone. To the rest of the world, especially her mother, this looked legit.

Problem was, it was starting to feel legit.

“Good! I’m happy for you!” Our captain gave me the nod of approval.

“Have to admit, you’re pretty cute together,” Lukas agreed.

“Cute?” I challenged.

“Well, it seemed better than total-opposites-who-are-hot-for-each-other, so I went with it.” He shrugged.

“You should have seen the douchebag crowd she used to run with,” Sawyer interjected. “That woman is way better off with you than turning into a Charleston Stepford Wife.”

“She still runs with that crowd, so let’s keep the douchebag comments to a minimum,” Logan reminded him.

That was true. She still had her lunches. Still met up with her friends to shop every few weeks. Still sat on the board for two of her mother’s charities, which included meetings with the same people who had been at our engagement party. She might be stepping into my life, but she still had a foot firmly planted in hers.

Good. That was good, right? It would be easier for her when this all went to shit. Her snotty ass friends would forgive her indiscretion, and she’d fall right back in where she belonged, in that untouchable sphere of manners and money…and Michael.

My stomach twisted at the thought of him ever touching her. At anyone touching her.

Coach broke up the conversation, walking into the locker room with a clipboard. “Okay, Reapers. We’re about a week out from preseason training, which means these little meetups won’t just be for fun, they’ll be for your salary.” He crossed the locker room toward the bulletin board. “You’ll see the schedule right—who the fuck put this here?” He unpinned whatever Sterling had stuck there. “Seriously. Cannon, you know we’re all happy for you and Miss VanDoren—”

“Mrs. Price,” Sterling corrected him with a shit-eating grin.

“Right. Whatever. But do you really need to pin your wedding invitation to the goddamned board? It’s not like you don’t already have the front page of the society section.”

My eyes narrowed on Sterling. “Really?”

“Just wanted to show off that I got mine first. See, that’s why I should be the best man.” He raised his arms, palms out.

“You got yours first because you showed up at my house last night and begged Persephone for one,” I snapped.

“Still. Got mine first. Suck it, Ward.” He shot Logan a look and sat back down.

Coach chucked the invite at him. “Right. If you’re all done gossiping like girls, maybe you’d like to see the schedule.”

“Best man, huh?” Logan asked as we walked to the parking lot ten minutes later.

“I probably should have asked you first.”

“You never have to ask. I’ll be there.”

“Thanks.” I hit the unlock button on my car, my eyes scanning to see if my father had somehow sneaked his way into the player’s lot. He was probably long gone by now, but it never failed to shake me for a few weeks after he’d randomly show up and ask for money.

“You doing okay with this thing?” Logan asked as I tossed my bag into the back of the Hummer. “The fake marriage thing,” he clarified in a whisper.

“I know what you meant.” I shut the hatch and turned to my best friend. “Honestly? I’m torn between keeping my distance from her and just living in the moment.” It was the closest I’d ever gotten to admitting how badly I wanted her.

He watched me carefully, then sighed. “Shit. If this ends—”

“When this ends,” I corrected.

“Fine. When this ends, it’s going to fuck you up. It’s going to fuck you both up.”

“Well aware. That’s why keeping my distance is the smart move.” I folded my arms across my chest.

“You falling for her?”

That ache was back in my chest, demanding to be acknowledged. “It doesn’t matter what I do or do not feel for Persephone. This is doomed for every obvious reason. I can’t stand her fucking friends. They look down on her for marrying me. Her father hates me. Her mother is dying. She’s the purest, kindest woman I’ve ever known, and she deserves someone way better than I am.”

Logan narrowed his eyes. “Right. I mean, why settle for the most driven, tenacious, protective asshole I know when you can run right back to the simpering, weak little banker who got everything from his daddy and doesn’t know his Sartre from his Nietzsche?” He rolled his eyes in mock indignation.

“You’re not helping.” My jaw clenched.

“You’re not seeing what’s right in front of you,” he countered.

The leash on my temper slipped a few inches. “In what fucking world do things like this,” I gestured to my torso, “work out when it comes to a woman like her? I’m the guy you fuck for fun, not the guy you marry.”

Which was what she wanted. Sure, she said she wanted me, but how the hell could she want someone as scarred and fucked up as I was when she could have her literal pick of any man on the planet?

“She didn’t ask you for the annulment. She asked you to marry her for real,” he reminded me.

“To make her mom happy!”

“Or maybe to make herself happy!” he hissed. “Jesus, she bought you at that auction. She watches you when you’re not looking, and it’s been going on for almost two years. That woman is so far gone for you that she might as well tattoo that ring on her finger. If you want to run away from this because you’re scared, I get it. I do. It’s fucking terrifying to give yourself over to someone completely. To give a woman the power to destroy you. But you’re fooling yourself if you don’t see that she already has that fucking power in those hands of hers. I’ve seen it every time you’ve put yourself in front of her against a threat, and every time you have to rip your eyes away from her.”

“What the fuck are you trying to say?” I ripped my hand over my still-damp hair.

He shook his head, obviously searching for words. “I’m saying that if you’re torn between keeping your distance and living in the moment, then my suggestion as your friend is that you live in the moment.”

“You were the one who told me to run,” I reminded him.

“For fuck’s sake. I told you if you were going to use your damage as an excuse to run, that you do it back then. Months ago. That was then. This is now. And you might not see it, but you are in this so fucking deep, my man. So if there’s even the slightest chance you think it could work—and I mean like a one in a billion shot—then you take it. Because the pain is coming for you either way at this point.”

“I’ll hurt her. My temper—”

“You haven’t really lost your shit in almost two years, Cannon. You’re not the same guy you were before you came here. Before you met her. But maybe the truth is that you’re not scared of hurting her. Maybe you’re scared of her hurting you.”

My eyes flared, and my stomach tensed.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he said softly. “Look. We don’t get a lot of chances to be happy in life. If you have a chance to be happy, even if it’s just for a few months, then be happy. It’s better to have loved and lost, right?”

“Alfred Lord Tennyson was a fucking idiot.” I turned and walked toward the car door.

“Think about it!” Logan called from his car in the next spot.

“You’re no longer my best man!” I snapped, but didn’t mean a single word of it.

“Whatever. I’m planning the best bachelor party ever, you surly bastard.”

“I’m already married!” I got in the car.

“No shit! Now act like it!”

I contemplated his words as I drove home. Maybe he was right, and I should enjoy every second I had with Persephone while I had it. But it would only hurt that much more when shit went south, and I was fooling myself to think she’d be the only one hurt.

I wanted her with a ferocity that bordered on insanity. Not just her body, but her heart, and her mind, and her inherent goodness. I wanted to be the man she thought I was. I wanted to prove myself worthy of her…but was that even possible? What if all she really wanted was what she’d said—to make her mother happy. Oh, and sex. She was pretty clear that she wanted that.

But what if I lost myself a little more every time I took her? What the fuck would be left of me when this all fell apart? When she laughingly walked away and returned to the country club crowd?

My thoughts raced as I pulled into the garage and then hauled my gear inside, dropping my bag in the mudroom.

Holy shit, it smelled delicious in here.

I hung my keys and headed into the kitchen, then leaned against the doorframe and watched my wife’s ass—the only visible part of her thanks to the door—wiggle as she got something out of the pantry. The Beatles were on full blast, singing about holding someone’s hand.

Her shorts were impossibly small, ending just beneath the curve of her ass, and I had the sudden urge to bite that little strip of flesh beneath the hemline.

“Honey, I’m home,” I called out.

“Ooh!” she shrieked. “I didn’t hear the door open. I must have been lost in my own thoughts.”

I pivoted toward the speaker, turning off the tunes. “Or it could have been the music up on decibel four trillion. What is that incredible smell?”

Her head popped out of the pantry. “Peanut butter cookies.”

I blinked, then followed where she pointed to see a cooling rack full of my favorites. Shit, that ache was screaming in my chest. “I thought you were making chocolate chip cookies?”

“I already did. And ran them over to my mama. Then I got home and decided to make you a little treat.” She walked out of the pantry with a tub of peanut butter. “I ran out with the first batch, and this sucker was on the highest shelf.”

She set the jar on the counter and I grinned. She was wearing a Reaper jersey, tied at the side and rolled at the sleeves.

Walking forward, she plucked a cookie off the cooling rack and then held it to my lips. “I promise it won’t kill you. And I promise I won’t bake again until after the playoffs.”

If she was still here.

I opened for her and took a bite of the cookie, letting my tongue drag over her fingertips. It was still warm and soft and tasted like Saturday afternoons, which ironically, this was. “That’s amazing,” I praised.

She smiled wide, stopping my heart. “I’m glad you like it.”

She handed me the rest of the cookie, and I devoured it as she turned to walk around the island.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

She wasn’t just wearing a Reaper jersey. She was wearing one of my Reaper jerseys. Not the ones the fans could buy on websites or even the store in the arena. It was one of my game jerseys. That’s why she had the sleeves rolled and the waist tied. That thing had to have come to her fucking knees.

 “Cannon? Are you okay?” Her brow puckered as she stood over the mixing bowl, watching me.

“You’re wearing my jersey.” She had my name on her back. A wave of primal possession washed over me.

She glanced down and laughed softly. “Oh. Right. Sorry, I got peanut butter all over my shirt, and this was hanging in the mudroom closet. Wait. Are you mad?”

The way her southern accent curved around the words was sweeter music than anything she could have been playing through the speaker.

“No.” My tone was gruff.

“Okay, then. Good,” she said with a bright smile. “What were you thinking about for dinner?” she asked as she turned around to grab a cookie sheet, flashing my name and number over her back again.

If you have a chance to be happy, even if it’s just for a few months, then be happy.

Logan’s words echoed through my brain.

Then the only sound in my head was my own voice chanting, mine. Mine. Mine.

I stalked across the hardwood floor, rounding the corner of the island when she looked up. She must have seen something in my eyes because the cookie sheet rattled against the counter as she dropped it.

“Cannon?”

“Persephone,” I growled her name like the curse and the prayer it was, then gripped the nape of her neck and kissed her.

She gasped, and I filled her mouth with my tongue, stroking it against hers, demanding her response. She gave it, gripping my arms and rising against me, kissing me back without reservation.

I grabbed her ass with both hands and lifted her, and she wrapped her legs around my waist just like I knew she would. The kiss was ravenous and consuming, neither of us giving quarter as I sat her on the edge of the island.

Her fingers tunneled into my hair, and she pulled slightly, holding me to her kiss with the sweetest bite of pain as she licked the roof of my mouth. “I love kissing you,” she whispered against my mouth.

“Good.” Because she wasn’t kissing anyone else. This mouth was mine. This body was mine. She was mine. I tilted her head and kissed her deeper as my dick surged against the cabinetry. Would there ever be a time when this woman didn’t get me hard as the fucking granite with a single kiss? I doubted it. “Tell me you still want this—you want me.”

Her pupils dilated as she tugged my hair again lightly. “I want you.”

“I’m not a gentle man. What you saw—and felt—the first time we were together was me being exceptionally careful,” I warned her, knowing that if all she wanted was gentle and sweet, then I’d give her exactly that.

“And it was delicious.” Her voice lilted in a way that sounded like she was thanking me for dessert. “But I want whatever it was you were holding back. I want all of you, Cannon. You won’t break me. Let me prove that I’m strong enough for you.” She feathered her thumb over my lips, and I nipped at it.

“You have nothing to prove to me.”

She responded by jerking my shirt over my head. It landed in the mixing bowl, but I didn’t give a fuck. Not when her lips were at my neck, my throat, my chest. Her kisses were little flicks of fire to my nervous system that gathered in my cock.

Her hands skimmed my sides, feathered over my abs where they lingered when her touch made the muscles tense. “You are pure fantasy. It’s like you stepped out of my hottest dreams. You know that, right?”

“Then we must have the same damned dream because you sure as hell have starred in mine,” I growled, bringing her mouth back to mine. I kissed her with reckless abandon, not slowing to seduce her or gentling when she whimpered. Her hands reached for the waistband of my athletic shorts, and she tugged.

The fabric protested over the head of my dick for a second, then fell to the floor. I kicked off my shoes and peeled off my socks quickly.

Our mouths never parted as I flicked open the button of her shorts and yanked down her zipper. She lifted her hips, and I peeled her shorts off her ass, taking her panties with them down her thighs and past her knees, stepping back only long enough for her shorts to join mine.

My jersey and her bra went next, leaving her naked and hungry for me. Her fingers found my boxer briefs, and then she squeezed the length of my cock through the fabric.

“Fuck,” I hissed, leaning into her.

“Harder? Faster?” she asked as her hand slid up and down slowly.

“Goddamn, Persephone,” I growled.

“Teach me.” She ran her thumb over the exposed head where I rose above my waistband, then brought her thumb to her mouth and licked off a drop of pre-cum before reaching for my cock again.

I managed to grab her wrist, stopping her. “Not today.”

She blinked, then ran her tongue over her lower lip. “I want to know how to please you. How to make you as wild as you make me.”

“You already do,” I promised, stroking my thumb over the inside of her wrist. “But you start touching me like that, and I’m going to have to hold back, and I want you too fucking badly for that kind of restraint right now.”

“But you’ll teach me another time?” she asked, already shifting her thighs.

“I’ll teach you whatever you want to know,” I promised. I would. She could pull out the Karma Sutra and leave it on the fucking coffee table like a takeout menu if she wanted. We’d do everything she wanted.

I let go of her wrist and ditched my boxer briefs. Then I gripped her hips and pulled her to the very edge of the counter.

Our mouths met in another kiss, and I let myself off the leash. I anchored her at her hip, and took her breast with the other hand, thumbing the already pert nipple. She moaned and leaned into my touch.

 Then I tongued that spot on her neck that drove her crazy and was rewarded by a gush of warmth against my cock as she cried out. My fingers found her already wet and slippery, so I moved the head of my dick to her entrance. Fuck, she already felt amazing, and I wasn’t even inside her yet.

“Are you taking me upstairs?” she asked as her nails bit into my shoulders.

“No.” I grinned, letting every ounce of my intent show.

“But…” She rocked against me, but she didn’t have the leverage to bring me inside. “I don’t want to wait.”

“We’re not going to.” Hands on her hips, I pinned her and slowly pushed inside of her. I gritted my teeth against the pleasure that assaulted me as I took possession of her inch by inch. She was so fucking tight.

Her breath came in jerky gasps as she stared at me with wide, desire-glazed eyes.

“Put your legs around my waist,” I instructed, feeling her give and soften around me as I kept pushing forward.

She did, locking her ankles at the small of my back. “Like this?”

“Just like that. Fuck. You feel so damned good. Are you okay?” I rested my forehead against hers.

“Uh huh.” She tried to move, but I wouldn’t let her. “I thought you said you weren’t holding back.”

“Feel how tight you are?” I barely managed the words as I pulled out slightly only to drive back in, taking another inch.

“I feel how massive you are. You’re stretching me, and it stings so good.” She gripped my hair.

“There’s a difference between not holding back and not hurting you.” I’d made her come almost twice before I’d taken her that first time, but I’d been too impatient to wait now. I tilted her head with one hand and set my mouth on her neck.

“I can take it.” She writhed and rocked against me.

She relaxed, and I took that last fucking inch, seating myself to the hilt as she cried out, but there was only pleasure in her eyes. “You’ll never have to take it because I’ll never fucking hurt you.”

“I’m not weak.” She flexed her thighs around me.

“I know that. Now hold on.” I couldn’t hold still any longer.

She locked her hands behind my neck as I pulled nearly all the way out and drove back in. We both groaned.

“Again,” she ordered.

I obeyed, taking her in another long, deep thrust as she called out my name. Then I did it again and again, starting a hard, slow rhythm and keeping it. She met my every thrust, taking and giving all in the same motion as she gripped my cock like a fist.

“Fuck, I’ll never get enough of this.” I took her over and over, letting my control slip slightly as I lost myself in her. Every stroke was better than the last, every kiss hotter.

“Good.” She let go of my neck and laid back on the counter, her arms rising until she gripped the edge of the other side. “Now stop holding back and fuck me.”

She looked like a wanton goddess stretched out in front of me, ready to be worshiped, and those words on her lips shredded what was left of my control.

I thrust deep and hard. “Is that what you want?”

“Yes!” she shouted, arching her neck.

I lost it, driving into her faster, harder, taking everything she gave, and giving her back only myself. Pleasure spiraled down my spine, and I felt the approaching orgasm gather.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” I used my thumb to tease her swollen clit as I swung my hips like a piston, driving us both closer to the edge.

Her thighs trembled, her stomach tensed, and then she cried my name as she came apart under me. Arching up as her orgasm took her in waves. Her pussy gripped me tight but still I kept driving on, not ready to surrender, for this moment to be over.

“Again,” I ordered just like she had, and pressed on her clit as I shifted my angle inside her. Her fading orgasm stuttered, then flared into a second one.

This time she screamed my name as she bucked under me, riding out her pleasure.

She squeezed me tight again, and this time I let go, roaring as the orgasm ripped through me, nearly blacking me out. Fuck, if I came this hard every time we fucked, I wasn’t going to survive.

I gathered her against me as we both gasped for breath.

“You okay?” I asked as she wound her arms around my neck.

“Uh huh.” She nodded. “You’re really, really, really good at that.”

I laughed. “I’m kind of your only experience.”

She shook her head. “Nope. I’ve heard stories. Girls talk.”

“Does that mean you’re going to talk about me?” I kissed her nose.

“Heck no. I don’t need anyone trying to steal you away. You’re all mine.” Her gaze dropped to the mixing bowl as she wiggled her hips. “Sorry about your shirt.”

“I don’t give a fuck about the shirt. Ruin whatever you want.” Fuck, I was already hardening inside her.

“Does this mean we’re scratching rule number five?” She arched her brows over those hopeful blue eyes.

“Fuck rule number five.”

“Oh really?” Her eyes narrowed. “What changed your mind?”

I debated keeping quiet. It wasn’t like the woman needed any more power over me. “It was the jersey. There’s something incredibly fucking sexy about seeing my name across your back.”

“Ah,” she said with a little nod. “Well, actually, it’s my name.”

I laughed, and she grinned up at me, a dangerous twinkle shining there. “What are you thinking, Mrs. Price?”

“I’m wondering exactly how many jerseys I can order. I mean, if wearing one gets you to fuck me like that—”

I kissed her quiet, then lifted her in my arms and carried her toward our bedroom. “You have no idea how many ways I can fuck you, Persephone. But I’m going to show you every single one.”

She bit her lip and then nodded. “Yes, please.”

“So polite.”

“Manners are everything.”

“You’re everything.” I walked us straight into the shower and started all over again.