by Lori Foster
Since she said that while naked, on her knees in front of him, he couldn’t drum up a reply. Hell, it was all he could do to stay standing.
She cupped his balls in one hand, teased her nose over his cock and made a purring sound of pleasure. “It’s not just your body, though.”
He’d never survive this. “Babe…”
“Shh.” She looked up at him, her green eyes big and soft and hungry. “I want you to know that it’s you, Cannon. Not just the well-known fighter, not just the great body. It’s everything about you. I hear you and I want you. I think of you and I want you. Will it ever end?”
“No.” He tightened his fingers in her silky hair, then had to lock his knees to keep from coercing her. A deep breath wouldn’t help. He knew that, but tried it anyway. “I told you we’re good together.”
Her small hand held him snugly. “Mmm,” she said by way of acknowledgment—and licked him, from the base of his shaft up to the head.
He shuddered, waiting on pins and needles—and he felt her hot mouth close over him.
He should have been lying down, he realized as he flattened one hand on the wall to brace himself. Gaze smoldering, he watched her work over him, her mouth, her hands…he even felt her nipples on his thighs.
Lost, he put his head back and fought off release. He wanted to be inside her, and he wanted her with him when he came.
For as long as he could, he enjoyed her attentions—until he knew he wouldn’t last a second more.
“Enough.” Using her hair like a leash, he eased her away. “That’s enough, honey. No more.”
She sank back to sit on her heels, licked her lips and gave him a dreamy smile. “Did I do something wrong?”
Scooping her up, Cannon dropped with her sideways on the bed. “When we’re naked and you’re touching me, nothing you do is wrong, I promise.” He kissed her, slipping a hand between her legs, gratified to find her already wet and hot. “You liked doing that to me?”
“I could eat you up,” she murmured, and proceeded to nibble on his bottom lip, his chin.
God, she was hot. “Turnabout is fair play.” Kissing his way down her body, paying special attention to all her most sensitive places, he moved off the bed and pulled her to the edge of the mattress. “Put your feet on my shoulders.”
For a beat of time, she breathed hard, unmoving. He wrapped both hands around her ankles, lifted her feet up and arranged her as he wanted—wide-open and waiting for him.
On a heartfelt groan, she relaxed her legs, and Cannon used his mouth to get her up to speed with him.
When she was close, she tried to twist away, but he held her still.
“No fair,” she gasped. “You stopped me.”
“Totally different thing, honey.” He put his mouth to her again, licking, sucking, pushing her.
“Next time,” she moaned, getting closer and closer, “I won’t stop either.”
Just thinking about it nearly did him in.
Her heels pressed into his shoulders, her legs stiffening, her neck arching, and she cried out, her pleasure firing him even hotter than her words had.
The second she eased he rose over her, hurriedly rolled on a condom and, keeping her legs high, sank into her.
More often than not, the sex was fast and frenzied, but Yvette stayed with him every step of the way. When she came a second time, he joined her, and he wondered how it could be so incredibly perfect.
Over and over again.
The minutes ticked by, but she didn’t want him to move away. He relaxed with his face against her neck, thinking of how easily he could have lost her.
And how he’d once let her walk away.
“You still give too much,” she sweetly complained while idly stroking his nape.
Not enough, by his calculation. He wanted to give her everything. Sexual pleasure, sure. Security, absolutely.
Also love, marriage. A lifetime.
But he’d mentioned a lifetime once already, and she’d reacted with compassion.
Not exactly the response he’d been hoping for.
Never had he declared himself to a woman. But ever since her return—or really, since she’d first left him—Yvette had kept him in knots.
She talked about the infatuation she’d had as a schoolgirl, the hero worship she’d had for him as her rescuer.
Now she was a mature, independent woman and she wanted him sexually, yet she kept her emotions under wraps.
It constantly chewed on his peace of mind, needing to know if she loved him. Things had progressed at a whirlwind pace—she’d lost her grandfather, moved back home, been through one crisis after another, had her life threatened from multiple sources.
He had to give her time without pressuring her, and he would—as long as she didn’t try to leave him again. Because if she did, he’d fight for her this time.
Sliding her fingers into his hair, she kissed his temple. “Be warned.”
He lifted up to see her, took in her messy hair and swollen mouth and had to kiss her, and then kiss her again. “Warned about what?”
“From now on, I’m going after what I want.”
He searched her face, unsure of her meaning.
Amused by his confusion, she tacked on, “From you.”
“From me?” She wouldn’t have to chase it down—he’d gladly give it.
Nodding slowly, pleasure teasing her lips, she whispered, “From you. Over you and under you. With you.” She ate him up with her eyes and sighed. “Just wanted you to know.”
He started to ask for details, but barking interrupted his intentions.
Warming him with her happiness, she asked, “Ready?”
“No.” He rolled to his back, took a second to get his bearings, then sat up and found his boxers.
Giggling, Yvette pulled on a shirt and panties. “At least he waited until we’d finished.”
They would never finish. More and more, he had the driving urge to tell her so, and the even worse need to hear her admit it.
Oblivious to his stormy thoughts, looking lighthearted and well loved, Yvette went to open the bedroom door.
Muggles, the midsize, muscular mutt they’d adopted the day after Whitaker died and Heath was arrested, came charging in. He acted as if it had been days instead of a few hours since he’d seen them.
According to the shelter, Muggles had been left outside on a chain to guard a trailer. His life hadn’t been an easy one, until his owner had been arrested for making meth and Muggles had gone to the shelter, looking for a better—forever—home.
The day they’d met him, Muggles had slobbered a little too much, bounded around with excess energy and loved Yvette on sight.
Every time Cannon petted him, the dog closed his eyes, licked his meaty chops and rumbled like a lion.
He liked that Muggles accompanied Yvette wherever she went, which would include the pawnshop. It’d be ready to open soon, and although—for now—the danger was over, Yvette had been threatened too many times for him to ever take her safety for granted.
Muggles was a complete sweetheart, but also a superior guard dog, which made him perfect. He got along great with the kids at the rec center, loved the other fighters and had a natural tendency to be vigilant.
Cannon had divided sentiments on the pawnshop. It had come together nicely, and Yvette loved it.
Since he loved her, and it made her happy, he wanted it to work. But eventually he’d have to head back to Harmony, Kentucky. Two or three times a year, he’d be there for extended periods to train with his camp.
When he left, he wanted Yvette with him, not tied down with responsibilities.
He watched her say to the dog, “You want to go to the rec center with us? Do you? Do you, boy? Yes, you do. Such a good boy.”
Laughing, Cannon touched the top of her head.
Tipping up her chin, she peered at him. “What’s so funny?”
“You talking baby talk to Muggles.” And the fact that even that turned him on. �
�Think he’ll let us shower together?”
“Of course he will.” She held the dog’s face. “Muggles is a good boy, aren’t you, Muggles?”
Blissful over the attention, Muggles wiggled and jiggled his strong, squat body everywhere. “Keep that up,” Cannon warned her, “and he’s going to pee on you.”
Muggles did follow them into the bathroom, but he rested on the rug outside the tub and snored while they showered. As long as he could be close to Yvette, he was happy.
Since he felt the same, Cannon sympathized.
Within an hour they were on their way to the rec center. Armie’s tournament was happening soon, and though he’d ended up with stitches in his butt, it hadn’t slowed down his training, or his determination to fight.
“Doubtful,” he’d said, “that anyone plans to punch my ass.”
Cannon knew better. Armie was as likely to receive a kick there as anywhere, but he also understood Armie’s need to push through. Luckily the stitches were out now, and he’d cleared his physical.
“Have I told you lately,” Yvette asked, “how much I enjoy being at the rec center, watching you work with Armie and seeing everything you have going on in the community?”
Muggles gave him a look, then went back to staring out the window, his tongue lolling and his tail thumping.
The statement was out of the blue, making Cannon curious, but he said only, “I’m glad.” She might not realize it yet, but she fit into every aspect of his world, and he into hers.
As he kept telling her, they were good together.
Maybe it was time to push her a little after all.
They’d get through the rest of today, and then tonight, when they were alone, after he’d given her another screaming climax, he’d tell her that he loved her.
Then they could start working on making a future together.
*
SWEAT BUILT ON Armie’s shoulders as he continued to work the heavy bag.
Cannon stood off to the side, watching and deciding what to have him do next. When his cell rang, he pulled it from his pocket. “Hello?”
“Hey, stud.”
Vanity? Yvette’s friend now called often enough that he’d come to recognize her husky voice. “What’s up, California?”
“Mmm, not much. Eating a banana split.”
He smiled. “Is that code for something?” Vanity could be so outrageous, he was never quite sure of the things she said.
“Yeah. A banana, ice cream, whipped cream.” She made another “mmm” sound. “And a cherry on top.”
“So did you call me just to tell me that?” He turned the phone away from his mouth and told Armie, “Break in two minutes.”
Nodding, Armie started kicking and punching harder, making the most of the remaining minutes. Off to the side, he saw Yvette chatting with Harper, Muggles sprawled on his back beside her feet.
“I knew you’d be at the rec center,” Vanity said.
“Yvette’s here, too. Did you want to talk to her?”
“Did I call her cell?”
“No. You called mine.”
“There you go. Must be you I want to talk to, huh?”
Wondering what she wanted, he went over to stand by the reception desk. “So what’s up?”
“I agree, Cannon. Let’s get right to the point.”
Had he been rude? “I didn’t mean—”
“Now that the scrote is gone—”
“Scrote?” Cannon asked.
“Yeah, you know, short for scrotum, aka Heath.”
He laughed outright. “I know what it means, and yeah, Heath is as gone as a man can be and still draw breath.”
“Exactly. So anyway, since I don’t need to keep tabs on his sorry butt here in Cali—”
“I never meant to saddle you with that.”
“It was my pleasure. Now, are you going to let me tell this or not?”
“I am,” he promised. “Go ahead.”
“I was thinking I’d visit,” she blurted.
Worried about her reception? Hell, as Yvette’s best friend, he wanted to meet her. Thanks to their phone conversations, he felt as though he already knew her. “You’re always welcome.” As he looked out the big front window, a flash of long blond hair caught Cannon’s attention.
“Yeah? Anytime at all?”
“Absolutely.” With a phone to her ear, the blonde paid a cabbie, then threw something in the big trash can out front of the rec center.
Probably another woman signing up for the women’s self-defense classes. They’d start right after Armie finished his fight. The promo was out, and already Denver and Stack had offered to lend a hand, which probably accounted for how women had rapidly filled the class roster.
“How about…now?”
Lost in thought, Cannon said, “Sure.” Forgetting the woman on the street, he grabbed the water bottle and a towel and headed to Armie. “When does your flight come in? We’ll pick you up.”
“No need.” She cleared her throat. “I’m here.”
“Here?”
“Well, behind you, actually.”
That was when he realized how quiet the gym had gotten, everyone staring toward the door.
The blonde.
He turned, and sure enough, there she stood. A Barbie look-alike, Yvette had said. He wasn’t that familiar with Barbie, but yeah, he saw it.
Wearing a short denim skirt and a white halter, her blond hair hanging to her ass, her long legs tanned and shapely, she put away her phone while taking in the rec center.
The fact that every man there ogled her didn’t seem to faze her.
When Yvette squealed, Cannon’s first thought was another threat. Then he saw her dashing over to Vanity, saw Vanity do her own girl squeal and run to meet her halfway.
They did a few circles, still making that high-pitched female sound of excitement. Muggles danced around them barking in maniacal delight, though he doubted the dog knew what the fuss was all about.
Cannon smiled and knew it. Then he looked around and saw every other dude smiling, too.
Beside him, still huffing, Armie asked, “Friend of Yvette’s, huh?”
“Vanity. She’s from California.”
“She’s ready to start a stampede.”
Yeah, true enough. The fighters were all edging closer, ready to claim introductions.
He glanced at Armie. “Not you, though, huh?”
Before replying, Armie finished off the water bottle. “She’s a little too much fluff for my tastes.”
Though he knew it wasn’t what Armie meant, he said, “No tats or piercing?”
“Cotton candy all the way.” He clapped Cannon on the back. “You’d better go head off the masses.”
Agreeing, Cannon approached with his hand out. “Vanity?”
“Oh, pfft.” She pushed his hand aside and gave him a hearty hug. “Oh, my,” she said, her hands going over his back and down toward his ass. “Yvette, you’re right. Very studly.”
He freed himself with a laugh. “Why didn’t you tell us you were coming?”
Yvette winced. “Well…” She looked at Vanity, then back to him. “I knew.”
Sheepish? What was she up to? If Vanity was here just to help her pack, they could both forget it. Somehow he’d convince Yvette to stay.
Hands on his hips, resistance mounting, he said, “Well, what?”
Rolling her eyes, Yvette took his hand. “It’s better discussed in private.” And she dragged him off with a lot of fanfare.
Uncaring that everyone watched.
Cannon wasn’t sure what to make of that.
Vanity called after them, saying, “Don’t worry about me.” With purring undertones, she added, “I’m sure I can entertain myself.”
That was all the invitation she needed to issue before a half dozen fighters converged on her. Knowing Armie would oversee things, Cannon went along willingly with Yvette.
In the break room, she turned him loose and, avoiding his gaze, took a se
at at the table. Muggles started dancing, wanting her to hold him. She pulled the dog up to her lap.
Cannon didn’t sit. He crossed his arms and stared down at her. “What’s going on, honey?”
Still not looking at him, she drew a deep breath, blew it out slowly. “I’ve been thinking about things. About…the future.”
No way. He angled his head, watching her warily, arguments already forming for why she should stay. Forever.
With him.
Two fingers in her hair, she whispered, “I’ve read over my grandfather’s letter so many times.”
Guilt softened his stance—but only a little. “I’m sorry I kept it from you.”
“He asked you to. And I understand why. From the beginning, my only intent in coming home was to take care of things so you wouldn’t be bothered by the ways he’d obligated you.”
How could she still have things so wrong? “I’ve never been obligated.” Though he’d certainly taken advantage of the gift her grandfather had given him. “I was here for you.” Always.
A sad smile flickered into place. “I know. Even after everything you’d already done for me, Grandpa sort of tangled you up in that again, too.”
“No. I never—”
“For so long now, you’ve been protecting me.”
“Damn right.” Because he loved her.
“But…” She lifted her shoulders. “The threats are over now, so you…you don’t need to anymore.”
Like hell. “What about the trial?” Gathering steam, he reminded her, “You hate being the center of attention.”
“I’m getting better at it.” She bit her lip, then cleared her throat. “But speaking of that… Everywhere you go, you’re the focus, right?”
Was she worried about getting caught in the spotlight? He wouldn’t lie to her, but he also didn’t want to give her reservations. “A lot of times, away from the fight crowd, no one knows who I am.”
“But if a woman accompanied you to a fight—”
“Yeah. Maybe.” Fighting the urge to scoop her up and hold her close, he admitted, “The camera might find you occasionally, especially during a title fight.”
She smiled. “Which is coming up very soon.”
He nodded. Not that he was thinking about that right now with Yvette keeping him guessing. “You shouldn’t worry about—”