Cannon
A Carolina Reapers Novel
Samantha Whiskey
Contents
Also by Samantha Whiskey
Now Available In Audio!
1. Cannon
2. Persephone
3. Cannon
4. Persephone
5. Cannon
6. Persephone
7. Cannon
8. Persephone
9. Cannon
10. Persephone
11. Cannon
12. Persephone
13. Cannon
14. Persephone
15. Cannon
16. Persephone
17. Cannon
18. Persephone
19. Cannon
20. Persephone
21. Cannon
Epilogue
Connect With Me!
Grinder Sneak Peek!
Grinder
About the Author
Acknowledgments
Copyright © 2020 by Samantha Whiskey, LLC All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you’d like to share it with. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
Also by Samantha Whiskey
The Seattle Sharks Series:
Grinder
Enforcer
Winger
Rookie
Blocker
Skater
Bruiser
Wheeler
Defender
The Carolina Reapers Series:
Axel
Sawyer
Connell
Logan
Cannon
A Modern-Day Fairytale Romance:
The Crown
The Throne
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Grinder
Enforcer
Winger
Rookie
Let the Seattle Sharks spice up your morning commute!
To those who fall at first glance
1
Cannon
Sunlight streamed through the massive windows of the hotel suite, revealing the Vegas skyline in all its morning-after glory. I blinked, but the motion felt slow, heavy even, and nothing about me was ever slow. I’d made myself a damn good career out of being fast. My entire body felt sluggish, as though I’d had way too much to drink last night, which didn’t make sense. Vegas meant I was here for a game, and a game meant there was no way I’d been drinking.
Something about that didn’t quite fit the situation, but I couldn’t pin my groggy little finger on it.
What the hell had I done last night?
I rolled over, turning my back on the window and the morning it promised and found the most exquisite woman I’d ever seen lying beside me.
Persephone VanDoren.
I was dreaming.
That explained…everything. The corners of my lips tugged upward, and I relaxed into the buttery soft sheets. I propped myself up on my elbow and almost congratulated myself on having the perfect fucking dream, but I was too busy studying her in a way I never could in real life.
The woman was gorgeous with a flawless, oval face, thick lashes that rested in crescent moons on her porcelain skin, and the most kissable, bow-shaped mouth on the entire fucking planet. The covers rested just above her breasts, and she slept with her left hand cradled under her pillow and her right only a few inches away from mine. Her long, blonde hair fanned out around her like a luminous halo, and I rubbed a few strands of the silk between my thumb and forefinger, savoring just how soft it felt. Funny, I’d always thought it was all that same pale, color, but it wasn’t. Various shades of blonde, from nearly white to honey-gold ran across my skin. The contrast against the heavy, colorful tattoos of my forearm nearly made me groan.
I was covered in tattoos from the nape of my neck to my toes, and her skin was as virgin as the day she’d come into the world—at least what I’d seen of it.
My blood heated, pulsing through my veins in an all-too-familiar rush that swelled my cock. I knew exactly how this dream would end—it wasn’t like it was the first time I’d had it, and yet I couldn’t keep myself from reaching for the covers.
I drew them down her frame and growled in appreciation. Of course, she wasn’t naked—she never was. My imagination would never let me fill in that particular blank. Instead, this time she was covered with a white, spaghetti-strapped silk slip that dipped low at her neckline, then hugged every fucking curve the woman had until it ended high on her thighs. Damn, those thighs looked so creamy and soft, and while they would never part for me in real life, well, this was a dream. Who the fuck cared about the real world?
I slid one arm beneath her, cradling her light frame, and rolled her to her back as I rose above her. Her lips parted, and she murmured as she shifted underneath me.
Her. Thighs. Fucking. Parted.
I put one of my own between them. God, she was so small, so delicate. So breakable next to my six-foot-five bulk. How far would this dream go?
Keeping her cradled beneath me, I filled my free hand with the curve of her hip and squeezed lightly, then moaned my appreciation for that curve against the soft skin of her neck. She smelled like apple blossoms, sunshine, and everything good and right in the world—everything I’d never have. Fuck, she’d never felt this real before. My cock pulsed against her thigh in agreement.
She shifted again, letting loose a small, breathy sigh as she arched her neck, giving me full access. I kissed her gently just beneath her jawline like I’d fantasized every time she stuck that chin of hers in the air at me. She was such a contradiction in the real world. Easy-going and stubborn as hell, kind and sweet, then salty and harsh, delicate in one breath and a force of nature in the next—she was all of it.
The one thing she never was? Mine.
The only place I’d be good enough for Persephone and the only place she’d be safe with me was here—in my dreams.
She whimpered, as if coming awake, but when I moved to lift my head, she tangled her fingers in my hair and kept me right where I was.
I took the hint and put my mouth against her throat in an open-mouthed kiss. How could she taste so fucking good? I groaned and swept my tongue over her skin, then sucked lightly at the patch.
She shifted her thigh, lifting her knee so she rubbed against my hip.
“Cannon,” she moaned, her fingers tightening in my hair.
Fuck. Need, hot and insistent, raced down my spine. I pressed against her center with my thigh, and the heat I found there set every cell in my body on fire.
She gasped, then rocked against me.
Keeping my weight on my elbow, I lifted my head and found her lashes fluttering slowly as she opened her eyes.
God, her eyes were beautiful, just like the rest of her—crystal blue, like Caribbean pools I wanted to dive into. I wanted to dive into her. She looked up at me with wonder, like I was her fantasy too, and my heart jumped to a fast, skittering rhythm
“Cannon,” she said again, her voice husky as if she’d truly been asleep.
“Persephone,” I answered.
Her hands slid to my face, and she ran her thumbs over m
y cheekbones with a sleepy grin. “You’re so beautiful.”
Speechless. Even in my dreams, I couldn’t come up with a response to that one.
She rocked against my thigh again, then bit her lip and groaned. It wasn’t just heat warming my skin. She was wet. I felt it even through the material of her panties. Of course, she’s wet. This is your dream.
Her fingers traced the line of my face, and I sucked the tips of two of them into my mouth as she ran them over my lips. She gasped as I flicked my tongue across the digits, tasting the salt of her skin. Her gaze flickered from my eyes to her fingers and back again, widening.
“Cannon...” Her voice shook slightly.
I raked my teeth over the pads of her finger before letting them go free. “Persephone.” Wasn’t that always my reply? I couldn’t hear one name without saying the other.
“Cannon.” She pulled her hand away, staring at her fingers with alarm. “Oh my God. Cannon!”
That was not the way I’d fantasized her saying that particular phrase. I sat back on my knees, and she scooted herself to sit against the headboard. The change in positions started a vicious throbbing in my head, and I lifted my hand to my temple to help assuage the ache. Wait. Why would I have a headache in my dream?
“Oh my God. Oh my God!” she chanted, staring at her hand.
Oh shit. I bit my tongue lightly and felt the sharp sting of pain at the same moment my stomach sank.
This was not a dream.
This was real.
I ran my hands down my face, trying to clear my head.
Persephone was actually in my bed, in Vegas, currently losing her shit—
“Holy shit! You have one, too!” she shrieked, then gripped my wrist.
“What are you talking about? And what the fuck are you doing in my bed?” I growled, pulling out of her grasp. Never mind that I’d had my fucking tongue on her sixty seconds ago; I never touched her if I could help it. Not because I didn’t want to—of course I wanted to. I’d have to be dead not to want to. But I didn’t exactly have willpower when it came to the woodland fairy princess Barbie that was currently staring at me like I had two heads.
She thrust her hand in front of my face.
A giant fucking diamond winked at me from the fourth finger. Her ring finger. Holy shit, that was her left hand, and there was a narrow band of gold just behind it. Complete, utter rage turned my blood to ice.
“Who the fuck did you marry?” I ground out. Whoever it was—he wasn’t good enough for her. I didn’t care how much breeding or money he had, a saint wouldn’t be good enough for Persephone, and God knew that she needed someone stronger than a saint to remove the giant stick she kept up her ass.
She scoffed and picked up my wrist again, replacing her hand in front of my face with my own.
“Apparently, you!”
Words failed me as I looked at the thick band on my left ring finger. It was black, inlaid with a textured sort of silver that might have been attractive if it wasn’t mocking me so loudly.
Someone pounded on our door three times. “Let’s go, newlyweds. Breakfast is here. And put some clothes on before you come out of there.” That voice…Nathan Noble, one of the defensemen on my NHL team—the Carolina Reapers.
My gaze jerked down to my boxer briefs. Not naked. Had I seriously had Persephone under me and not remembered?
“They know. Oh God, they know.” Persephone whispered, still staring at my ring. “What did we do?”
“I have no fucking clue,” I muttered, then got the hell off the bed.
“I don’t remember last night at all. Do you?” Her hair fell all around her, making her look all the more angelic as she looked up at me with eyes that begged for an answer.
I thought back. We’d all boarded the plane in Charleston. Nathan and his fiancée, Harper, Sterling—one of last year’s rookies—Nixon Noble and his charity auction date, and us. “We came for the charity auction thing,” I said as I stared down at a pile of clothes on my side of the bed. Persephone had demanded I participate in the Reaper Charity Auction to help raise funds for the public library. When I made my own demand that she not sell me to someone I wouldn’t consider fucking, she bought me herself, which I guess fulfilled that part of our bargain since I’d never willingly take her to my bed.
And yet I’d married her?
“Right, but I don’t remember anything past mid-flight,” she said, scooting off the bed.
“Maybe this is a prank. I highly doubt we’d do something stupid like get married in Vegas.” I heard a rustle of fabric and turned to see Persephone holding up a wedding dress on her side of the bed.
“The evidence suggests otherwise.” She dropped the dress in a puddle of lace and silk and wrapped her arms around her waist. “What are we going to do?”
It took everything I had not to replace her arms with mine, to tuck her against me and tell her that everything would be fine.
“We’re going to get dressed and find out just how stupid we were last night.” I picked up my clothes—yep, it was a fucking tux—and headed for our suitcases, which sat next to each other against the wall.
“Right. That sounds like a good plan.” She took her suitcase and marched right past me, shutting the bathroom door behind her.
Don’t panic. Whatever this is, it’s fixable.
I dressed quickly, putting on athletic pants and a Reaper T-shirt. Then I stood in front of our window and looked out over the strip while I waited for her, refusing to let the reality of what was happening sink in. Why the hell couldn’t I remember anything past the flight? Why couldn’t Persephone?
I turned my head as I heard the door open, and Persephone stepped out of the bathroom with a slightly surprised look on her face. “You waited for me?”
“I figured we should probably question everyone together.” I took in her tiny white shorts, blue silk blouse, and simple braid that started just beneath her ear and ended nearly at her waist. Good. She looked more like her, except she’d never wear those shorts to the office, thank God, or I would have walked around with a permanent erection because holy shit her legs were incredible. Toned and supple and long, especially for someone as petite as she was.
“Thank you. That was really…considerate.” Her thumb toyed with her ring.
“I’m not a complete asshole, you know.”
Her eyes slid shut. “That is so not what I meant.”
“Let’s go.” I held the door open for her, and she muttered her thanks as we walked into the vast suite. We’d rented out the biggest one the casino had, boasting five bedrooms throughout two stories.
I followed Persephone down the stairs and found our friends sitting at the dining room table. Nathan sat near the center with Harper on his right, and his twin, Nixon, to his left. The NFL star had brought his own charity auction date…Liberty—that was the pretty brunette's name—and she took the seat at the end of the table.
Great, I could remember her name, but not how I’d wound up in bed with Persephone.
Sterling held down the opposite end of the table, raking his hand through his short, black hair. His eyes widened as he saw us.
“Well, if it isn’t Mr. and Mrs. Price!” Harper said with a grin. “We ordered a smorgasbord, so hopefully there’s something that you like.” She gestured to the buffet of food laid out on the various room service carts.
“Could someone please tell us what the hell kind of prank this is?” I pointed to my left hand. “Not that it’s not a good one, but if this is Connell’s doing, you can tell that practical-joke-loving asshole—”
“Prank?” Nathan interrupted, slowly shaking his head.
“Surely there has to be some explanation about how any of this happened,” Persephone said with that sweet southern drawl.
“You said you wanted to get married, and then got married.” Sterling shoved in a mouthful of waffles and started to chew.
“We what?” Persephone shrieked, going for Sterling.
I caught he
r around the waist. “Maybe we should sit down.”
She nodded, and I let go, ushering her into a chair. I took the one next to hers and reached for the carafe of coffee.
“Yes, please,” she said when I nodded toward her cup.
I filled hers then mine, noting that she dumped a heap of sugar and cream into hers as I started to sip mine as black as it had come.
The entire table stared at us in between bites of their breakfast.
“Okay, so Persephone and I don’t remember anything from about halfway through the plane ride,” I stated, then sat back, waiting for the holes to be filled in.
“I told you!” Harper jabbed her fork toward her fiancé.
“Fuck,” Nathan muttered.
“Are you going to tell them?” Nixon prodded his twin.
When no one spoke up, Liberty sighed. “Well, since I’ll never see any of you again, I don’t have much to lose by filling you in. You both complained of headaches, right?”
We both nodded.
“Right.” The woman grimaced but forged ahead. “The flight attendant said she had some pain relievers, and gave them to you from the bottle of ibuprofen.”
“Sounds harmless enough.” Persephone’s hand shook slightly as she put down her coffee.
“Right, except about ten minutes later, she told her coworker what she’d done, and then that woman freaked out. I mean majorly lost it because she’d taken the bottle from her bag, and she’d stashed her sleeping pills in there.”
My gaze narrowed. “Okay?”
Liberty’s eyebrows shot up. “And you’d both already had a couple of drinks, and then you had a couple more...”
Cannon (Carolina Reapers Book 5) Page 1