Cannon (Carolina Reapers Book 5)

“Iwant way more than just your lips on mine, Persephone.”

Cannon’s words replayed in my head over and over.

As did the memory of his lips on mine. His body pressed against me, winding me up like a coiled spring. The way he’d effortlessly lifted me and splayed me out on the desk as if we had all the time in the world to explore each other, taste each other. And sweet heavens did he taste so good. I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that kiss. About the way his touch had seared me to my very soul. And I wanted more. So much more—

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Cannon asked around a mouthful of cereal. “You’ve never seen a grown man eat Rice Krispies before?”

I blinked a few times, backing out of the memory but losing none of the heat pulsing in my blood. Hunger, fierce and brutal, nipped at every inch of my body. A need I never knew existed until Cannon had set his lips on me.

Lips that currently closed around another spoonful of cereal as he leaned over the kitchen island, eating breakfast. It had been a week of this—a week of pretending like that kiss in my father’s study didn’t happen.

But it did happen, and try as I might, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

He continued to stare at me from over his bowl, eyebrows raised.

Waiting for an answer.

Oh, right.

I situated on my barstool, my phone with an email pulled up on the screen in my hand. “I was thinking of how to respond to this email,” I said. “But naturally, you would think eating cereal makes you irresistible.” I doubted my eye roll was very convincing because he gave me one of those rare laughs I’d started to look forward to.

“I never said anything about me being irresistible, Princess,” he said, swirling that spoon along the edge of the bowl. “But I’m glad to know this does it for you.” He brought the spoon to his mouth and somehow—though I didn’t think it possible—he ate the bite in a sinfully seductive way that made me want to throw the cereal box at his head.

I scoffed and returned my focus to the unread email—despite having read it three times. I couldn’t focus. Not with him and his spoon licking.

My cell vibrated in my hand, a text flashing over the screen.

Sister: The parents kicked me out. I need a place to crash. Be at your new hubby’s in ten.

I jolted in my seat, the phone dropping from my hand.

“Shit!”

“What?” Cannon was instantly at my side, so quickly I hadn’t seen him move, his cereal bowl forgotten on the other side of the island.

“My sister,” I said, my heart racing, “is on her way here!” I bolted off the stool, my bare feet padding against the hardwood as I hurried to my room. “Help me, Cannon!” I hollered behind me, though I knew he’d followed.

“Help you what?” he asked as I darted into my room and into the en-suite bathroom.

I grabbed everything I used daily, cradling it against my chest as I booked it past Cannon and toward his room down the hall.

Cannon blocked my entry. “Oh, no, Princess, I said—”

“To hell with your rules, Cannon! Andromeda is nearly here, and if she finds out I’m sleeping in a guest room despite being blissfully married to your gorgeous ass, what do you think she’ll say? You witnessed how she acted at the engagement party,” I said. “She’ll twist the information to her advantage.” I paused, my heart sinking. “What do you think she’ll tell my mother?”

He furrowed his brow. “She’d do that?”

“Yes. She’d do that and more.” I sighed. “My parents kicked her out—it’s not the first time—and she needs a place to stay.”

“And you want her here, even though she could potentially betray you?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Obviously,” he said, but he didn’t move. “I don’t understand the upper-class-gossip-war.”

“She’s my sister,” I said, eyes pleading. “What would you do for Lillian?”

He moved and opened the door to his room, allowing me inside. All at once, I was hit with an essence of him—his smell, his books stacked on the nightstand by his bed and strewn across the dark wood dresser across the room. “What do you need from me?”

I swore I melted a bit at his words.

“Grab the clothes out of the dresser in my room, please? You can just toss them in here anywhere. I don’t care. The gowns and dresses are fine hanging in the guest closet, since we can always say we were saving space in here. It’s just the daily stuff—”

“I’m on it,” he said, cutting off my ramble. He disappeared as I found my way into his bathroom and dumped the contents of my facial régime into a random drawer. I’d organize later. Or I wouldn’t. I didn’t know how long she’d be staying.

At least a night.

Which means…

I stared at the massive bed tucked against the back wall, a hot thrill rushing through me at the knowledge that I’d share that bed with Cannon tonight. His body next to mine, only inches separating—

“Clothes are done. Anything else?” Cannon’s voice cut into my fantasy, grounding me in the present.

Right. So not the time.

“Thank you,” I said as he finished shoving my clothes into a pair of empty drawers in the dresser on the opposite side of the bed. “I’ll just go make the bed—”

“Done,” he said, and I sighed.

“Thank you.”

“You don’t have to keep saying that,” he said. “What else?”

“Well, if it isn’t too much trouble,” I said, wringing my hands. I heard a car screech to a stop outside. “If you could do that thing again.”

He cocked a brow at me, and my skin flushed.

“Where you pretend to love me? Like at the engagement party? I know it’ll take more effort on your part since she’ll be staying here, but I’m not sure how long and I just—”

“We’ll figure it out.” He reached out, grazing his knuckles ever so gently over my cheek. The sweet, innocent gesture sent a white-hot tremor down the center of me.

I leaned into that caress, biting down on my gratitude since he’d told me to stop.

A firm pounding on the door broke the tension buzzing between us, and I jolted out of his touch. He dropped his hand, a muscle in his jaw ticking as I brushed past him and out of his room.

“You would not believe the way Waze took me to get here!” Anne said by way of greeting, stomping past me and dropping her two large Louis Vuitton bags on the floor. “This is such a cute little town! And an even cuter little house!” She scanned the interior—taking in the clean lines, open floorplan, and simple yet comfortable furniture Cannon had outfitted the place with. Little was the last thing I’d call the house, but my sister had much more lavish tastes than I ever had.

“Please, come in,” I said, a bit sarcastically as she made herself at home. She found the kitchen and plopped on a barstool, reaching for the bowl of fruit I’d replenished this morning. Cannon loved a banana before his morning run.

She fiddled with an apple, crossing one leg over the other as she chomped into it.

I took a seat across from her, and Cannon elected to remain on the other side of the island as if he needed the distance.

“What happened?” I asked after she’d had a few more bites.

“Did you get these here?”

I nodded. “Sweet Water Farmer’s Market.”

“They’re so much better than the ones in Charleston.”

I raised my brows, not at all amused by the evasion. “What. Happened.”

She huffed and sat her half-eaten apple on the island, not even bothering to reach for the small fruit plates I had next to the bowl.

Patience. Kindness. Compassion.

“Mother and Father totally overreacted,” she said.

I waited, silent.

“They did,” she insisted. The black from her mascara had smudged underneath her eyes, whether from tears or staying out too late, I wasn’t sure. “I got kicked out of one itsy-bitsy club—”

“Which club?” I cringed when she didn’t answer right away. “Not the club?”

A slow nod. Then she rolled her eyes. “I was drunk, and I got into a fight with Brittany. She tried to say…well, it doesn’t matter what she said. She deserved a few slaps for it. Then she pulled my hair, and I don’t remember much after that. Except that Gerald threw me over his shoulder! Can you believe that? The nerve.” She sucked her teeth. “I should have Father fire him.”

Anger bubbled beneath my calm exterior as I counted my breaths. I couldn’t speak, not at the moment, because if I did, I would say—

“You get in a drunken fight so intense at your parents’ country club that your head of security has to haul you out, likely for your own safety and that of the other guests, and you threaten to have him fired?” Cannon’s voice was all hard edge, none of the softness from earlier. “Sounds to me like your parents kicked you to the curb for good reason.”

My lips parted, but Anne’s mouth dropped.

Yes, I’d been thinking the same exact thing, but she was my sister.

“Are you going to just sit there and let that inked-up creep speak to me like that?”

I raised my hands, palms up. “First things first, Anne,” I said, surprised at the amount of control I held over my tone. “Don’t ever speak about my husband like that. This is his home. And despite his lack of bedside manner, you will respect him while under his roof. If you can’t accept that, you know I’ll be happy to put you up at the Seasons.”

She gaped at me like she’d never seen me before. I spared Cannon a glance, his eyes fixated on me in much the same way.

“Secondly,” I said, returning my focus to her. “Did you try and apologize for your behavior?”

“Of course, you blame me.” She shook her head. “I don’t know why I thought I could come here and vent and simply be like normal sisters.”

I flinched at the jab. The one she knew would hit home. Because we weren’t normal sisters. We hadn’t been for quite some time. Kind of hard to build a relationship with someone who constantly disappeared—usually right after destroying some family event. She’d broken my mother’s heart so many times, and I honestly didn’t know if I could take one more reckless decision from her.

“Fuck the Seasons,” Cannon said. “Maybe we should put your ass on the street. Maybe then you’d learn you shouldn’t bite the hand that—”

“Cannon,” I chided, despite a piece of my heart lifting at his defense of me. I sighed, but he stopped talking. “Anne,” I said, looking back at her. “You admitted you were the one who was drunk and got into the altercation. What happened after that? Because I know Father wouldn’t have kicked you out if you had apologized.”

“I may have kicked Gerald in the junk.”

Cannon hissed.

“And accused him of copping a feel.”

I cringed.

“I tried saying I was sorry this morning,” she continued. “First to Gerald, then to Mother and Father. They weren’t having it. Said they needed to issue tough love. They’ve kicked me out and cut me off. I have nothing but my car and those two bags.”

“Good thing the bags are worth more than some people’s cars,” Cannon grumbled.

“Darling?” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Yes, Princess?” He mimicked my tone.

“Could you give us a moment?”

“Gladly.” He pushed off the island and disappeared, likely to his personal library. The one place he ever truly seemed happy.

“He’s not intimidating at all,” Anne muttered.

“He’s not,” I said. “Not when you get to know him.” Which I was doing my best to do. “Anyway,” I said. “What’s your plan?”

“Ugh!” She rolled her eyes. “Why are you always on me about having a plan?”

“Well, do you have one?”

“No!”

“This is why I always told you to go to college. I told you to get a job, a project, something to give yourself independent funds—”

“Yes, you did,” she cut me off. “But why should I do that? Why should I work and grind and be boring like you? When we have the means to go anywhere? Do anything? Anyone?”

“Because of situations like this, that’s why!” I snapped. “And just because I don’t country hop doesn’t mean I’m boring! I happen to love my career and my friends and my family—”

“Career, ha, what a joke.” She shook her head. “All you do is spend other people’s money.”

I sucked in a sharp breath, cooling the fire inside me. “Perhaps you would be more comfortable somewhere else.”

The reality of her situation seemed to catch up with her because fear flashed in her eyes. “I have nowhere else to go.”

“Fine. You can stay here until you’ve found a way to make it up to Mother and Father.” I scooted off the barstool. “But, Anne, so help me if you insult me one more time—”

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice a bit quieter than before. “It’s a habit.”

“Why?” I folded my arms over my chest.

“Because you’re the perfect one. The good sister. The one everybody admires and loves and favors.”

“I’m far from perfect.” I sighed. “And I’m far from the favorite. Mom can barely ever tell you no, and she’s told me no plenty of times. Plus, Father would do anything for you.”

“They kicked me out and cut me off!”

“Have you ever, for one second, thought they did that because of their love for you? Because they’re tired of seeing you waste your potential, your life, drinking, and over-indulging, and who knows what else? Maybe once you have nothing, you’ll realize what is worth giving up everything for.”

A few tense moments passed before she stood. “Can you show me to my room? I’d like to crash until next week.”

I nodded. “You carry your own bags here.”

She snorted but retrieved her bags.

Cannon had made himself scarce the rest of the day, going as far to have a long lunch with the boys that turned into a dinner, and then after-dinner hockey gossip. Langley had been right, they were as bad or worse when it came to team melodrama, eating it up like candy.

I finally gave up on him coming home for the night and took a good long soak in his enormously deep tub, a favorite audiobook of mine playing from my phone on the table next to the tub. I figured the idea of actually sleeping in the same bed with me was so repulsive to Cannon that he’d crashed at Logan’s or Connell’s, but he’d kissed me so passionately at the engagement party. Played my body so perfectly, like he’d known all the sensitive areas even I didn’t know existed. And yet, he wasn’t here. My heart sank, but I swallowed the emotion as I climbed out of the tub an hour later.

After drying and lotioning up, I slid into one of my dark red slips, the silk cool against my heated skin, ready to sink under the covers and sleep off the strain of such a long day.

I froze upon exiting the bathroom, the steam from the room following me into the bedroom.

“What in God’s name are you wearing?” Cannon snapped from where he was already tucked under the covers, a hardback clutched between his fingers.

“When did you get home?” I popped a hand on my hip.

“In the middle of your bath,” he said. “I didn’t want to interrupt. The audiobook you were listening to sounded…interesting.” He cocked a brow at me, and my skin flushed. The romance novel I was currently listening to had just come to the incredible part where the hero and the heroine make love for the first time.

“You could’ve told me you were home.”

“Were you worried about me?”

Yes.

“Do you need to be worried over?” I countered. “Figured there was nothing you couldn’t handle.”

He eyed my slip again, his opened book resting against a chest. A chest I now noticed was bare. I’d only seen it that one time in the locker room and now with him so close…sweet heavens, I wanted to pull those sheets back and see where those tattoos led.

“Again,” he said. “What the fuck are you wearing?”

I glanced down at my slip—sure, my cleavage was on display, but the length cleared my rear with a lace hem. “I sleep in this.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do. It’s hot.” I stepped toward the bed, and he snapped his book shut, the motion halting my progression.

“We have air conditioning. Rule number seven, you do not wear that to bed.”

I huffed. “It’s a southern July, Cannon Price! What would you suggest I wear?”

“Anything!” he growled. “Anything but that.” He flung his arm toward his closet. “Grab literally anything in there, and it would be better than that.”

A laugh escaped my lips—the intensity in his eyes, the crazed sort of panic in the tenseness of his body. “I didn’t think I was your type,” I whispered to ensure the words didn’t carry across the hall to where my sister likely was sleeping or taking selfies. “Didn’t think you found me attractive.” My voice wavered a bit on that one, the truth and rejection fueling the tremble. His kiss had definitely said otherwise…but had he done that to prove a point? Prove that I could wind up underneath him, out of my mind with lust, just like every other girl he’d ever been with?

“Put. Something. Else. On.” He cocked a brow at me.

The demand in his tone, the primal urgency in it, had me rushing toward his closet. Because damn it, I liked that tone. I liked that I made him uncomfortable. And I’d been thinking about his mouth on mine for a week straight.

I grabbed one of his T-shirts at random, tossing the silk in a corner as I yanked the soft cotton over my head. The gray material felt well-worn and nearly paper-thin, instantly melting against my shoulders and stopping mid-thigh. Some dark blue logo of a Viking rested atop my breasts, now peaked against the material as I walked out of the closet.

“Fucking hell,” Cannon grumbled, sitting his book down again. “That’s even worse.”

I glanced down at the shirt and shrugged. “High school?” I asked.

He nodded, gripping the edges of his book a bit tighter. “The only one I ever liked.”

“You went to several?” I asked, using the casual question to walk around to my side of the bed. I peeled the sheets back with the careful fingers of one defusing a bomb. My heart stalled as I sank into it, worried Cannon might bolt at a moment’s notice.

“Yes,” he said, the word clipped. “After Mom…” he cleared his throat. “I moved around a lot. One year I was in three different schools.” He nodded toward the shirt as I tucked my bare legs underneath the sheet. “That school was the longest and my favorite. One year straight.”

“It’s important,” I said.

Another nod.

“I should take it off.” I moved toward the edge of the bed, but a gentle hand on my wrist stopped me.

“Don’t,” he said and groaned as he closed his eyes. “For the love of God, don’t take anything off.”

I laughed softly and turned to lay on my side, facing him.

He swallowed hard before marking the page in his book and setting it on the nightstand next to him. After he clicked off the lamp, he lay on his side, facing me, to my utter shock and delight. It took a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the dark, but once they did, Cannon’s were intently on mine.

Mere inches separated us, and every beat of my racing heart was a plea to cross that invisible line. Heat sizzled in that space between us, and it flicked and licked the edges of my skin so much I had to shift my legs in an attempt to soothe the ache.

“Why did you make rule number five?” I whispered into the dark.

“You’re a virgin,” he whispered back.

“You didn’t know that,” I countered. “You came to my house with a list of rules you’d already made. Why that one?”

“Persephone,” he groaned, and the use of my name instead of Princess had my toes curling.

“Because you’ve never…wanted me?”

“I’m pretty sure I answered that in your father’s study.”

Another breath, another stuttered beat of my heart. “Because I’m not your type?”

“No.”

His answers were so sharp, but I liked the sting.

“Because you think you’d break me?”

He loosed a breath and dared to breach that distance between us, just enough to graze a fingertip along the line of my jaw. I arched into that feather-light touch, aching for more.

Cannon drew his hand back and tucked it under his pillow. He closed his eyes then, his breathing evening out so much I was sure he’d fallen asleep. I turned over to my back, unable to gather enough courage to touch him in return.

“Because I’d ruin you,” he whispered just as the heavy blanket of sleep fell over me, his words settling between us like an anchor in a stormy sea.