I slipped into another one of Cannon’s shirts—this one a freshly washed Reaper shirt with his number on the back—and delighted in my newest nightly satisfaction, watching Cannon struggle with the sight.
“Damn you, Princess,” he growled from his spot in bed.
“What?” I asked innocently and spun around to show him the name scrawled across my back.
Another low growl.
I practically pranced to my side of the bed, alight with the game we’d been playing.
He grabbed the book off his nightstand, opening it to the page where we’d left off last night.
“You didn’t even want to take a gander at the book I brought home?” I teased.
He refused to look at me as I settled in next to him, close, but not close enough to touch.
“I saw it.”
“Did you find anything interesting in it?” My heart raced.
He gave me a good side-eye before returning focus to the book. “I didn’t find it funny if that’s what you mean.”
I gaped at him in faux shock. “Well, I would hope not. The Kama Sutra is no laughing matter.”
He laid the book against his chest, glaring at me.
I raised my hands. “I wouldn’t need a book if I had a teacher.”
A muscle in his jaw flexed before his tongue darted out to wet his lips. God, that little tick. It made heat pulse between my thighs.
“You don’t need a book, Princess.”
“Then you’ll do it?” I asked, breathless. “You’ll teach me?”
He swallowed hard and shook his head.
I pretended not to deflate, and instead nodded toward the book on his chest. “Where did we leave off?”
He scooped up the book, the breath rushing from his lungs like he was equally glad and disappointed I’d given up the fight.
Tomorrow I might push a little harder, but for now?
For now, I reveled in this.
The sound of his voice as he read from the pages of the book he’d decided to share with me. The feel of his warm body next to mine, the scent of him drenching the sheets and my skin despite not touching. I fell into this sweet, deep sense of happiness with Cannon beside me—something beyond lust, beyond forced proximity.
Happiness.
A true happiness I’d never experienced before, and I had Vegas and a mishap to thank for it, but damn I loved my new normal.
9
Cannon
“I have to say,” Logan began as he rubbed the back of his neck as we stood outside our favorite restaurant in downtown Charleston, “it’s not as weird seeing you two together as I initially thought it would be.”
“Thanks?” I glanced toward Persephone as she talked with Delaney and Annabelle a few feet away and waited for that sense of dread to fill me—that deep, empty ache that this was all headed toward disaster…but it never came. We’d been married almost two months, and instead of it becoming more and more obvious that we were absolutely wrong for each other, it somehow got easier. Which was a good thing, considering Mrs. VanDoren had set our wedding date for October twenty-first, dragging this little lie out a couple of months longer than planned.
At least she was feeling better. Doctor called it a miraculous surge of health, which Mr. VanDoren attributed to our wedding plans, though he still glared at me whenever the girls weren’t looking. Did the asshole really think a good glaring was the worst I’d been through?
“He’s right.” Connell shrugged. “You two seem to balance each other out.”
“Like an opposites attract kind of thing,” Logan added.
“Exactly! And the way she took all the olives off your salad?” Connell gave a giant, mocking sigh while he thumped his chest.
“Or the way you ordered her a second sweet tea before she’d finished her first?” Logan chimed in with an equally absurd expression.
My eye roll could not have been stronger.
“What are you two going on about?” Persephone asked, sliding her arm through mine. That same electric jolt I felt whenever she was near zinged up my spine at the contact, and I suddenly wished I’d chosen a long-sleeved shirt. Maybe I would have sweat to death in the August heat, but it would have protected me from the immediate, intense flashbacks to having my hands elsewhere on her bare skin.
I was losing my fucking mind a little more every day as I fought my need for this woman.
“Oh, just telling your husband how cute you guys are together.” Connell winked at my wife.
Good thing I liked him.
“And on that note, we’re leaving before I end up thrashing you two idiots.” I gave them a wave, and Persephone did the same as she said goodbye to the girls.
We walked down the block in relative peace and quiet. The best thing about living in Charleston was the relative anonymity we had. I’d been hounded by reporters and paparazzi back in Detroit, all of them waiting for me to inevitably lose my temper and fuck up royally.
“That was nice,” Persephone said as we turned the corner to where I’d parked the car. “I had a lot of fun.”
“Me, too.” I wrapped my arm around her shoulder, shifting her to the inside of the sidewalk, farther from any traffic, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head simply because she smelled so damn good and felt so right tucked against me.
“You ready for preseason to start up?”
“I’m always ready. Plus, I hammered Connell’s ass at the pick-up game yesterday, so I know my speed is back.” I spotted my Hummer a few cars away and hit the unlock button. “The morning runs are helping.”
“Good.” She patted my stomach, and the muscles tensed under her touch. “I was a little worried there that you were putting on a few pounds.”
My jaw dropped, but she just winked, then laughed.
“I’ve heard about an excellent workout for that,” she assured me as we reached my car. “It happens to involve two people and minimal workout gear.” She turned to face me and lifted her eyebrows.
“Did you now?” Every fucking day she proposed that I teach her about sex…through experience, of course, and every day, I shook my head in refusal, wondering when I’d eventually break. The problem was, giving in to what we both so obviously wanted would only make it hurt all the more when this ended. Not to mention that I wasn’t gentle or careful enough to be any woman’s first—let alone Persephone’s.
A shadow moved over her shoulder, and my head snapped up as a man pushed himself off the wall and moved toward us.
Holy shit. The man stepped out under the street light, and every molecule in my body hardened in response. I stepped to the side and pulled Persephone behind me, putting myself between her and…him.
“What the fuck do you want?” I seethed, ignoring Persephone’s gasp of surprise behind me.
“Is that any way for you to talk to your dad?” he asked with a grin, his arms outstretched like he was Jesus Christ. Like the fucker came in peace when all he’d ever brought me was pain.
“It’s the only way to talk to you,” I ground out through clenched teeth. What the hell was he doing here in Charleston?
“Hi there. I’m guessing you must be Cannon’s wife?” He cocked his head to the side.
“You don’t speak to her. Ever.” I’d never put her in his path. Hell, I wasn’t even putting my back to him for the length of time it would take to get her into the car.
His grin fell. “Cannon. I was hoping we could talk.”
“So, you ambushed me outside my car?”
“It’s not like you take my calls.” He stopped a few feet away from me, and I noted the changes since I’d last seen him. He was still a handful of inches shorter than I was, but he’d put on some weight. His belly hung over his jeans and stretched his Red Wings T-shirt to capacity, and while he still wore his hair slicked back, the dark color no longer mirrored mine, but was streaked with silver.
“Nor will I ever. My agent, my publicist, my coach, and my team’s owner all know you’re not allowed to have my phon
e number.”
“See? And you wonder why I have to resort to stalking my own son.” Rage filled his eyes before he blinked it back. I knew that rage well. It was the same, all-consuming anger that put out cigarettes on my skin when I was too young to run and welts the same size as his belt when I was old enough to protect Lillian. It was the same rage that lived inside me—an insidious, infectious disease I could never completely cure.
“Is that how you found me?” I felt Persephone lean against my elbow, where I still had her locked against my back, no doubt peeking around my arm to get a look at the man who’d sired me.
“It’s not hard when the internet knows what car you drive. I just had to wait outside the Reaper Village gates long enough to spot you.”
Ice dripped down my spine.
“What the hell do you want? Because whatever it is, you may as well get back in your car and go. I’m not giving you shit.”
“Cannon.” His eyes softened, and his face fell. It was the same expression he’d used on Mom every time he’d apologized for beating her, swearing it would never happen again, that this time it would be different. “I’ve gotten myself into a little trouble.”
I snorted. “Of course you did. Why exactly should I care?”
“Because I need your help, son.”
“Don’t call me son, and the answer is no.” My empty hand clenched at the familiar term, but I kept the other splayed over Persephone’s back. She was the reason I would hold my shit together instead of crushing this piece of shit like he deserved.
“Please? Cannon, it’s not that much. It’s just a hundred for this loan shark—”
A scoff burst from my mouth. “A hundred grand? You’re out of your fucking mind.”
“Cannon.” His shoulders dropped dejectedly, and I felt Persephone soften behind me.
She was definitely peeking. I glanced her way. Yep, she was. Was she falling for his same line of bullshit that Mom had? Were his pity-inducing puppy eyes playing her?
“No. Walk away.” I bit out the words.
Anger flashed in his eyes, but he locked it down. Impressive. “It’s nothing to you! Just a drop in your massive bank account. But it’s the difference between life and death for me!”
The rage drained from my body, leaving me iced out and numb. My sister called it the killing calm. “Death? You want to talk about death? Then how about this. You’ve been dead to me for years. The day you killed my mother was the day I wrote you off.”
Persephone sucked in a breath, and I felt her hands clasp my sides. Even at my worst, the woman did her best to comfort me.
Dad transformed from the kicked puppy to the monster he hid just beneath the surface. His mouth twisted, his fists clenched, and his eyes narrowed. “I served my time for that! You think it’s easy with a vehicular manslaughter conviction on my record? I can’t get a good job, and I sure as hell don’t have an NHL contract. Now, I’m giving you one more chance to do the right thing and help me.”
“Or what? You’ll hit me? I’m not some scrawny little kid cowering in the corner of the kitchen anymore. I’ve got four inches and fifty pounds of muscle on you now, asshole.” Those very muscles were on alert, ready for whatever he’d try.
He tilted his head again, and his gaze dropped to my wife. Fuck, no.
“Pretty little wife you have there. I heard she’s rich as Midas, too. A real southern belle. You’d better be careful with her, Cannon. We Price men have tempers. Can’t help what’s in the blood, son, and she looks a hell of a lot more fragile than your mother was.” He slowly dragged his gaze back to mine. “I’d hate for something to happen to her because you let that temper get the best of you.”
My stomach lurched, threatening to send my dinner up.
“Walk the fuck away.”
He clucked his tongue at me and tucked his thumbs in his jeans, going close enough to his belt that my head immediately filled with the sounds of my own screaming when he’d last used it on me. “You’ll regret this. I swear to God, I’ll make you regret it.”
“I regret every moment I spend in your company.”
He shook his head slowly and turned around, then began walking up the block, away from us. “It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Price.”
“I can’t say likewise,” she muttered behind me.
As soon as he was out of sight, I loaded Persephone into the car, going so far as to buckle her seat belt for her. Nothing was getting to her. Nothing. Not even me.
“Cannon,” Persephone started as we pulled into the driveway, breaking the strained silence that had been our constant companion on the drive home.
“Don’t,” I snapped, pulling the car into the garage.
“I just—”
“No. Not with this. Not with him. You have no idea what that man is capable of or what he’s done. Do you know how many scars these tattoos cover up? How many burns and cuts I’ve masked with all this ink? Don’t you realize there’s a reason I don’t like people to touch me?”
Her mouth softened, but before she could speak, I climbed out of the car.
“Cannon!” She caught up to me in the kitchen. “How can I know any of that stuff when you don’t talk to me about it!”
“You knew he beat my mother. I told you that.” I threw my keys on the counter.
“In really vague terms, yes, but you never told me that he killed her.” She moved toward me, then thought better of it and stayed on the other side of the island. Good. It was dangerous to be close to me when I felt like this.
“She packed the car and told his drunk ass that she was leaving him. At least, that’s what we think happened in the house. Then he stumbled out to the driveway and got into the driver’s seat, shouting that she wasn’t taking his kids anywhere, and when she ran after us, he accidentally hit the gas instead of the brakes and hit her.” God, I could still feel the abrupt motion of the car, the sound of her screaming.
Persephone gasped, her hands flying over her mouth as her eyes flared in horror.
“Accident my ass, right? But Lillian and I didn’t know what happened inside, so we couldn’t prove that he did it out of anger, and it wasn’t some accident like his slimy lawyer professed. The man did fifteen years for murdering my mother. Fifteen. That’s it. So, I’ll be damned if I give him a dime of what I’ve earned. He can rot in hell for all I care.”
I pushed away from the counter and walked away, heading straight for our bedroom. No amount of shooting or skating in the basement was going to wash him away. I felt the dirt of it all on my skin, impossible to see, but oily to the touch.
My clothes hit the floor in a scattered path as I walked to the massive shower. I turned on the water, then shed everything else until I wore nothing but the art I’d chosen over the scars I’d had no say over.
When the water steamed, clouding the air of the stone-walled, doorless shower and the rest of the bathroom, I stepped under the heavy spray, letting it scald me to the point of pain, begging for my nerve endings to come alive and kill the numbness. When I’d burned enough of him away, I turned, letting the water singe my back.
At least he was in Charleston, which meant he wasn’t near Lillian. I’d have to call her later and warn her that he’d reappeared, but she never held the same appeal for him that I did—she didn’t have the money he always needed. She was safe.
Persephone wasn’t. Not while she was still married to me. He was right. That was the real kicker. She was in danger every moment she stayed near. She was so breakable. So fragile. What the fuck would happen if I snapped one day the way he did? My heart stopped at the thought of anything happening to her.
The bathroom door opened, and Persephone walked in. Her steps were slow but deliberate. She had that look on her face she wore when she needed something done and wasn’t going to leave the locker room until we’d all agreed to whatever her plan was.
I watched silently as she pulled her hair up into a knot on the top of her head, then pulled down the zipper of her dress that ran d
own her side. The blue silk fluttered to the floor, leaving her in a matching set of underwear that almost made me flip the handle and change the water to freezing. Every line of the woman was so fucking flawless that all I could do was stare as she reached behind her and unsnapped her bra, then shrugged out of it.
Her breasts were just as perfect as I remembered. I’d done my best to keep my damned hands off her for the past two weeks, to keep away the memory of the feel of her on my fingers and the taste of her on my tongue. For having the reputation of the very devil, I’d been a fucking saint when it came to my wife.
My wife. Even thinking that term had my cock rising. She was mine to protect. Mine to care for. Mine to adore. At least for now.
She tucked her thumbs into the sides of her thong, and my breath stilled. Our eyes locked, and she bit her lower lip with indecision. I sighed with relief when she left the little scrap of fabric in place. I was already on edge, fraying by the minute, and the last thing I needed was the delectable temptation of Persephone—
Wait. What the fuck was she doing?
She walked into the shower, keeping her eyes on mine, craning her neck when only inches separated our bodies. A single jet reached her skin, and she jolted, sucking in a breath with a slight yelp.
My hand flew to the knob on my right, and I dialed it back so the water wouldn’t burn her. Never her.
Her brow scrunched momentarily, and she swallowed, then she reached for the dark blue loofah she’d bought me when she moved in. It hung, untouched, next to the frequently used pink one that she favored.
I tensed as she put shower gel on the scratchy nylon then raised it to my chest. She paused before she made contact and looked up at me for permission.
That act alone made me give it to her with a curt nod.
She washed my chest gently, then ran the loofah down both of my arms before turning it on my stomach. Her lips parted, and her breath quickened as she watched her own motions, tracing the lines of my abs. She was so fucking sexy. A heady mixture of sensuality and innocence that pushed my control to the very limit of existence.
Cannon (Carolina Reapers Book 5) Page 12