by Lane Hart
“We need to talk, preferably someplace a little more private and indoors,” he says, his voice lowered like he’s afraid someone will overhear us. The two media representatives and cameraman have left, which means only my two employees are nearby. “Let me buy you lunch.”
“No thanks,” I respond to his chest since I have no intentions of being alone with him. Besides, I hate the way he didn’t even ask me to lunch; he just demanded it.
I take a step to the right to try and go around him, but he moves directly in front of me, blocking my path. “What about dinner?”
“I’m not going out with you,” I tell him pointblank. “I thought you were a ‘well-intentioned’ voter.”
“I am, but you’re not making this easy.” He sounds like he’s getting frustrated with my lack of cooperation. Good, now he knows how I feel. “Come on, Miss Monroe. I’m freezing my balls off…”
“Good to know,” I mutter with a roll of my eyes at his vulgarity.
“Let me buy you one cup of coffee. There’s a shop right across from us.”
Dammit. Coffee has always been one of my weaknesses. I can never refuse a cup. In fact, I was planning on hitting up the coffee shop before heading back to the office anyway.
“Fine. One cup. To-go, and you’ll have to talk fast.”
“Deal,” he says with a sigh of what sounds like relief. “I’m Cannon.” He pulls out his hand from his pocket and offers it to me.
I take it and squeeze his hand back, matching the pressure he tries to exert. Not sure I heard him correctly, I repeat, “Cannon?”
“Cannon Erikson,” he replies.
“And I guess you already know that I’m Madison Monroe.”
“That I did in fact know,” he says with a smile.
I gesture forward with my hand, indicating that he should turn around and walk to the coffee shop. As we pass Lily and Vanessa, they give me curious looks before they both stare at Cannon as if they’re completely enamored by him. They haven’t even seen him up close or smelled him yet.
“Just a second,” I tell him before I step away to talk to them. “You can both go back to the office. I’ll see you in a few minutes. Just going to grab some coffee.”
“With him?” Lily asks in a whisper, her eyes still captivated by Cannon.
“Yes. He was relentless,” I mutter. From this angle, I can get a good look at his backside, and it’s not his ass that grabs my attention, although it does look nice and firm. No, it’s the huge white skull king patch and the words “Savage Kings MC” that draws my eye, which is just great. The Savage Kings are known in town for being vigilantes who think they can operate above the law. They’re not quite categorized as mobsters, but they’re no angels either.
“Be careful,” Vanessa says. “He’s gorgeous, but those guys are not exactly the kind of crew you want to be seen associating with.”
“I’ll be fine. Besides, there’s no one here but us,” I point out as I leave them.
As I approach Cannon, he turns slightly toward me with a smirk before he looks both ways to cross Broadway Street. Neither of us say anything until we’re inside the shop.
“Welcome to The Last Drop!” the perky barista says in greeting as the warmth and smell of coffee surround us, taking away the chill from outside. “Oh, hi, Cannon,” she adds, having apparently recognized the biker. She bites her bottom lip, and then suddenly her chest seems to grow a few cup sizes.
“Hi, Connie,” he responds, saying her name so familiarly that I have no doubt they’ve seen each other naked.
The last thing I should be is jealous and yet, for some reason, I find myself wishing that I was a little more daring when it comes to men, like Connie. But then I would probably be working in a coffee shop serving others and not have a law degree or career ambitions.
“What can I get you?” she asks Cannon directly. I don’t think she’s being rude; she just hasn’t been able to take her eyes off of him.
“Just a coffee with two sugars and two creams to go,” he responds. “What about you?” When he turns his attention to me, Connie finally seems to notice he’s not alone, and the evil look she gives me is full of very sharp daggers.
“Same,” I tell her.
Good ole’ Connie gets to work and has our cups ready on the counter in no time.
“Thank you,” I tell her before I grab mine and go sit down at one of the two person tables, taking a sip while Cannon pays the bill, since he offered.
“I’m so sorry about what happened to the dealership and Fluid,” I overhear the barista tell him softly. “If there’s anything I can do, just let me know.” She reaches out and gives his hand a squeeze before taking the twenty-dollar bill from him.
“Thanks, sweetheart, and keep the change,” Cannon says before he turns away from her to come sit down. He lowers himself into the chair across from me, his long legs sprawling wide in front of him. One of his knees bumps up against my crossed legs but he doesn’t move it, so I’m the one who is forced to readjust. Then, he just stares at me over his cup as he takes a sip. It’s as if he doesn’t know or doesn’t care that he still has the full attention of the barista behind him.
I hate to admit it to myself, but he’s also holding my full attention as well.
Chapter Four
Cannon
Madison clutches her coffee in a death grip like it’s the elixir of life and she thinks someone may come along and steal it from her. Her dark chocolate eyes watch me warily before she finally takes a sip. That one sip is all it takes for her shoulders to relax a few degrees, some of the uptight tension leaving her body as if by magic. She’s wound tight, that’s for sure, from her dark hair that’s pulled back into a snug, low bun, to the plain white suit pressed to perfection under her white dress coat. Her eyes are constantly narrowed, like she’s always on edge, not able or willing to trust anyone. That’s not exactly a helpful image for a public figure hoping to win over the hearts and minds of voters.
Maybe she doesn’t have a chance in hell of beating Bailey. That doesn’t matter to me. I know now, seeing her up close and personal, trying to break through her stone-cold walls, that I could never hurt her, not even if Conrad’s life depended on it. I’m glad he doesn’t expect me to.
“Do you have admirers everywhere you go?” she asks into the silence, lowering her eyes to her cup like she doesn’t like me watching her.
It takes me a moment to realize she’s referring to the barista, Connie. I glance over my shoulder and find her staring at us.
“A few,” I answer honestly when I face her again. There’s no reason to lie. My social life is no secret in this town. I’ve lived here forever with my family. Since high school I’ve been known for my love ‘em and leave ‘em ways. But the women I spend nights with understand that well before they end up in my bed, and I’ve yet to meet one that is angry or hostile. Nope, usually they try and figure out how to get me to take them home with me again, but that’s not how it works. That’s not how I work.
If you don’t keep anyone around long enough to get to know more than their name and favorite sexual position, then you can’t miss them when they’re gone.
“So, Cannon Erikson of the Savage Kings MC, what did you want to talk about?” Madison asks, telling me one thing about her – she hates awkward silences and has a need to fill them. Outside, I was the one talking too much, and she was ready to bolt. Which means, less is more with her. If I can keep drawing this out, her curiosity will eventually get the best of her. Good to know. I need to focus on that and not what she would look like with her midnight hair down around her naked shoulders and perky tits.
“I wanted to warn you.” There, I’ll dangle a little bait and patiently wait for her to take it.
“Warn me?” She sits up a little straighter, that tension back in her neck and shoulders. “Warn me about what?”
“You may be in danger.”
She blinks at me a few times and then laughs stiffly as if she’s trying to brush the
words off. “Danger, huh? Of what? What is that supposed to mean? That I should be scared of you?”
I shake my head and ask, “What do you know about the man you just declared that you’re running against for mayor?” I ask.
She shrugs and says, “He’s the former chief of police, conservative, well liked in the community. Why? I know it’s a tough fight.”
“What you don’t know is that he’s ruthless.”
“Ruthless?” She has a habit of repeating the words I say, and I think I like it. “Why do you say that?”
“Bailey asked me to find dirt on you, anything that he could use against you in the election,” I admit to her quietly so that not even Connie will overhear us.
“Sorry to break it to you, but you won’t find a shred of dirt on me. I have no baggage, no skeletons in my closet,” Madison says defensively.
“I know. So does the former chief. Which means it’s only a matter of time before he resorts to plan B.”
“And what’s plan B?”
“To threaten you so you quit, rough you up a little, and terrorize you until you cry uncle and drop out of the race.”
“So that’s what this is about? You’re doing his dirty work?”
“Fuck no,” I answer. “I’m not doing shit for that fat bastard. I’m here to warn you. There’s no limit to what he may do to you.”
“I won’t drop out, no matter what,” she replies, face full of stubbornness, jaw tight and lips pursed.
“Fine. That’s your decision, but you better watch your back,” I tell her honestly.
Her chair squeals as she slides it back on the hard floor and gets to her feet, hands clutching her coffee. “I can take care of myself, so stay the hell away from me,” she warns before she hurries out of the shop.
“What’s her problem?” Connie mutters.
I jump up, thinking fast and say, “Can I have a pen and a napkin?” I ask her in a rush.
“Sure,” she quickly agrees, handing them over the top of the counter. I scribble down my number and then run out the door. Thanks to my long stride running and the fact that she’s walking carefully in her heels, it doesn’t take me long to catch up to Madison in the parking lot before she gets into a blue BMW coupe that beeps as she unlocks it.
“Wait,” I tell her, and she spins around in surprise, dropping her keys on the pavement when she couldn’t juggle them and her coffee.
I bend down and pick them up and offer them to her with the napkin. “Here’s my number, just in case.”
“In case of what? I’m in danger?” she asks sarcastically while looking down at the scribbled numbers.
“That or any other reason,” I reply, slipping my hands into my pockets. “My offer for lunch or dinner still stands. Although, if I’m honest, I actually prefer a nice breakfast after an energetic night…”
“I’m sure you do,” she mutters, balling the napkin up and tossing it back at me. It hits me in the chest before I snatch it out of the air – the physical proof of her rejection.
“You’re turning me down?” I know rationally that is what she’s doing, and yet I don’t think I can actually believe it or even process it.
“I don’t date men like you.”
“I could show you a good time, maybe get you to finally let your hair down and have a little fun.”
“Only in your wettest dreams, playboy.”
I’ve never had a woman turn me down before. Older, younger, rich, poor, smart or ditzy, it doesn’t matter because I’m every woman’s type – handsome, fit, and charming. I don’t like how this rejection from her makes me feel – like I’m not good enough for her. So, I decide to turn up the heat on Miss Monroe.
When she turns sideways to try to pull on the door handle, I lean forward, pressing my palm to the door to shut it again, which means the front of my body is flush against the side of hers, her face is a breath away from mine. My lips are nearly touching her ear when I tell her, “Ten minutes alone with me, and I bet I could have you so wet that stick up your ass would slide right out.”
“Get off me.” Her palm slams roughly against my stomach, pushing me away from her hip and pressing all the way through my black hoodie and t-shirt underneath my cut until she hits my rigid abs. Her perfectly manicured nails may have been trying to dig into my flesh, but instead it starts to feel more like a curious caress. I hear her gasp as I bite back a moan of my own and wish I could see her eyes. But her face is lowered so I don’t catch them before she finally drops her hand and turns away, leaving me wanting more, wanting that delicate hand of hers to grab something lower.
Chapter Five
Madison
Holy shit.
What the hell just happened?
Did I really just go from freezing my ass off to sweltering hot because of a few naughty words whispered in my ear by an arrogant playboy?
Once I get my car cranked and the heat going, I half expect to look up and find Cannon still lurking around next to my window, thinking of his next line to try and get in my panties. But he’s already gone, nowhere in sight, which means I’ve been sitting here stunned for much longer than I planned.
What can I say? I’m not used to men affecting me like that, or in any way whatsoever, for that matter. I don’t know what my problem is. Cannon is no doubt very experienced in the art of seduction, saying whatever it takes to get a woman into his bed. I just wish I wasn’t imagining, for even a second, giving in to him.
Through college and law school, sex was nothing more than a requirement expected of me after a certain number of dates with the same man, sort of like a math equation – five dinners plus three movies at my place equals penis in vagina. It was always quick and to the point, usually without getting completely naked because I was eager to get it done and over with so that he would leave and I could get back to studying. The handful of men I was with preferred to always be on top or behind me, so those are the only two positions I’m familiar with. And oral, well, it was out of the question. It just seems too…personal and intimate to have it performed on me. And when it comes to putting my mouth on a man, ugh, the thought just makes me feel so slutty.
For some reason, I can’t help but think that the barista back in the coffee shop wouldn’t have batted an eye if Cannon had gone behind the counter and told her to get on her knees for him. Why I care, I have no earthly idea.
What I should be focused on is the campaign, the warning that my opponent may intend to get his hands dirty, and not on the way my hands felt pressed against Cannon’s washboard abs.
Taking a deep breath, I push those thoughts aside, put my car in gear, and grasp the wheel, my hands still somewhat shaky as I drive to the office.
Cannon
My balls are so heavy when I walk away from Madison that I may need a wheelbarrow to carry them. I can’t think straight. It’s been days since I got laid, so I obviously need a release. But it just doesn’t seem right with Hannah running around our house. Maybe it’s the fact that she’s knocked up by my brother that has me rethinking my promiscuous night life.
Part of me wants to go back to the coffee shop for a quickie with Connie. I know she’d be up for it, but then she’ll think a hard fuck is what I want anytime I come to get coffee and I’ll give in. Before long, we’ll be in some weird ass routine where I’ll have to get us both off first thing in the morning before I even have a cup of joe, and that shit just won’t fly. No routines. No expectations for me or the woman. Those are the two rules I live by to make sure nobody catches any fucking feelings, especially me.
The last time I was in love with a woman, she went off to college hundreds of miles up north and gave me an ultimatum – propose to her immediately if I wanted to stay together or break-up. My eighteen-year-old cocky self thought that Kimberly was just bluffing. She wasn’t, and neither was I when I refused to give her a diamond ring. I don’t let anyone tell me what to do except Roman, the president of the Savage Kings MC, so I sure as shit wasn’t going to be bullied into a
marriage when I knew I wasn’t ready to settle down. Hell, I’ve started to think maybe I never will be.
Once I adjust my hard-on in my jeans, I hop in my SUV and drive back to the house, missing my bike and wishing for warmer weather.
As soon as I walk into the house, I start getting the third degree from my brother.
“How did it go?” Conrad asks over his shoulder from the kitchen where I find him making a sandwich. No, two, and I’m guessing the second one is not for me.
“Good I guess.”
“Good you guess?” he repeats, reminding me of Madison repeating shit back to me. “You told a woman that the man running against her is an asshole with no limits and call that good?”
“She’s tough and said she could take care of herself,” I tell him.
“Nuh-uh,” Conrad says with a shake of his head. Dropping his knife beside the plates, he turns to face me. “She can’t handle Bailey by herself.”
“Well, what can I do? She didn’t want anything to do with me.”
My brother’s brow furrows. “Why does it sound like you tried to ask her out instead of warn her she could have trouble coming for her?”
“I guess I tried to do both.”
“Jesus, Cannon!” he exclaims. “For once can you think with your head and not your dick?”
“I always think with my dick, so what does it matter? He hasn’t fucked me over yet.”
“Think about this for a second, please,” Conrad starts.
“Okay, what?”
“If you don’t do what the asshole wants, what do you think he’s going to do?”
“Have you arrested,” I answer.
“Yes, and what else?”
“Keep being a dick?”
“Of course. Which means what for Madison Monroe…”
“I don’t know. Just tell me where you’re going with all of this,” I say in annoyance, my hands on my hips because I honestly don’t know what he’s getting at.