Bad Alibi: a Redemption novel

by Prince, Jessica

  “What do you think I’m doing here?” he replied, his eyes traveling over my face, hair, and body like he’d never seen me before.

  “I don’t know. For the life of me, I can’t imagine why you’d try and track me down now. Especially since I made it perfectly clear when I gave you back your ring that I didn’t want to see you again. And if that didn’t deliver the message, there’s the fact I haven’t returned a single one of your calls or messages in weeks. So I’m at a loss, Lance.” I jabbed him in the chest again, my voice growing louder with every word. “Why . . . the hell . . . are you here?”

  Cannon came up behind me, wrapping his fingers around my wrist and pulling me back against his chest. “Calm, baby.”

  “Baby?” Lance’s gaze bounced from me to Cannon and back again. “Farah, who the hell is this man?”

  “None of your business who I am,” Cannon rumbled in reply. “Now, my woman asked you a question. I suggest you answer.”

  Lance’s eyes went so round I thought they might pop right out of his skull. “Your woman?”

  “Didn’t stutter, brother.”

  “I’m not your brother,” he said with a look of disgust etched into his stony face. “And I’d appreciate you taking your hands off my fiancée.”

  At that, I snapped. Pulling from Cannon’s hold, I got in Lance’s face again. “Please, tell me you did not just say that. Because I know you aren’t actually stupid enough to call me your fiancée, not after I caught you screwing the woman who was supposed to be my maid of honor in my bed! Or did you shoot out the rest of your braincells when you blew your load into Felicity?”

  “Oh dayum!” I heard Shane cry from somewhere behind me.

  Lance looked around nervously, ever mindful of making a public scene. “Farah, maybe we could take this somewhere private?”

  “She’s not goin’ anywhere with you.”

  “I wasn’t talking to you,” Lance shot back at Cannon like this was a freaking grade school fight.

  “The answer won’t change whether it’s coming from him or me,” I reiterated. “I’m not going anywhere with you. In fact, you know what? I don’t even care why you’re here. I don’t want to hear what you have to say, so you can leave now.”

  “Farah, it’s time for you to come home,” he rushed out when I began to turn away.

  “Wow. You’re just spouting all kinds of stupid shit tonight, aren’t you? I am home, Lance. This has been more of a home to me in the past few months than Connecticut was my entire life, and there’s no way in hell I’m leaving.”

  “Look at you!” Lance barked, waving his hand at me. I was in another pair of jeans, these a lighter wash, giving them a worn-in look, and a T-shirt with a Triumph motorcycle on the front of it that I’d gotten with Cannon in mind. The moment he walked into the bar and saw me in it, the smile he’d given me was worth a thousand times more than I’d spent on it. I had on very little makeup, my hair—that had grown a lot longer since I came to town—was hanging loose around my shoulders in its natural waves, and I was wearing the awesome, distressed brown leather cowboy boots I’d gotten on an impulse during a shopping trip with Poppy. I thought I looked damn good, and so did Cannon, and that was all that mattered to me.

  “You don’t even look like yourself,” he continued. “I don’t know who this woman is, but it’s certainly not the one who wore my ring.”

  “Good! Because I couldn’t stand that girl!” I shouted. “She was beaten down and weak enough to accept the proposal of a pathetic excuse of a man just to get her parents off her back! I’m thrilled I’m not that woman anymore, because I like who I am now a hell of a lot more.”

  He lifted his chin in indignation, looking down his nose at me. “If you come home and follow through with the wedding, your parents have agreed to give you back your inheritance. Be smart, Farah. You don’t belong here.”

  “Seriously?” A bark of laughter burst past my lips. “Are you really that dense? What aren’t you getting, here? I’m. Not. Leaving. There’s no amount of money on the planet that could get me to go back with you. I barely liked you when we were dating, and I liked you even less with each passing year I was stuck attached to you. As far as I’m concerned you can take the inheritance and the wedding and stuff them right up your hairy ass.”

  “Well,” he said on a scoff, “I see the influence the people in this town have had on you. Hang around white trash long enough and you start speaking, dressing, and acting like trash yourself.”

  “Motherfucker.” Cannon attempted to shoot around me just as Banks and Scooter got there, stepping in to hold him back. He fought against them, trying to get to Lance while growling, “You talk about her like that one more goddamn time—”

  “Take your own advice and calm down, son,” Banks ordered. “Your woman is handlin’ this just fine on her own.”

  “You’re choosing that?” Lance asked in bewilderment, stabbing his finger in Cannon’s direction. “A loud, violent, tattooed thug? You’re dumpster diving for companionship now?”

  My palm connected with his face so hard the crack reverberated through the entire bar, bringing everything around us to a standstill.

  “Don’t you ever talk about him like that,” I hissed. “You hear me? Ever. You’re a piece of shit who’s not worthy of spit-shining his goddamn shoes. You say I don’t belong here? You couldn’t be more wrong. You don’t belong here. Now get the hell out of my town, and don’t come back. I’m done with you and my parents and that whole toxic world up there.”

  “You’re making a mistake,” Lance exclaimed as I turned back to Cannon. “You’re going to regret this, Farah! I’m giving you until Sunday, that’s it. When you come to your senses, I’ll be at the Four Season in Nashville.”

  I didn’t bother reacting. I was done giving that asshole my time. He didn’t deserve another second of it. I moved into Cannon, standing on my toes and taking his face in my hands. “You all right?”

  That seemed to be all it took to calm him down. “As long as you’re good, baby, I am too.”

  I let out a sigh of relief and lowered back down. “Then we’re both good.” Looking around the large crowd that had gathered, I raised my voice so they could all hear. “Now whoever wants a drink better get back to their tables. Shane and I have a job to do.”

  They parted like the Red Sea, hustling back to where they’d come from so they didn’t miss their chance at getting a refill. The last thing I heard as Cannon threw his arm over my shoulders and started leading me away was Buck’s angry voice telling Lance, “Believe the lady told you to get the hell out. You don’t do it on your own in the next two seconds, I’ll do it for you.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Farah

  I was a bundle of nerves by the time Cannon pulled his bike in front of the townhouse.

  I’d texted Poppy earlier to ask if she wouldn’t mind going to my room to check on Crash, telling her I was staying with Cannon that night, and as I’d expected, she replied with a YES in all caps, followed by a string of happy face emojis. So after I finished closing, with nothing else delaying the inevitable, I’d hopped on the back of his bike. And just like that, I was officially spending the night with Cannon for the first time.

  I was a wreck, and it had nothing to do with the earlier showdown I’d had with Lance.

  I wasn’t sure how this whole thing was supposed to go. Would he initiate it, or was he expecting me to take the lead so I didn’t feel like he was taking advantage? And if that was the case, how in the hell was I supposed to go about doing that?

  Then there was the fact that he was going to be the first man I’d been with in nearly a year. While I couldn’t imagine it happening with anyone else, I was still terrified. A million thoughts were racing through my mind. What would he think when he saw those small scars littering my chest? What if I had a nightmare?

  What if.

  What if.

  What if.

  Taking my hand, he guided me into the house. He didn�
��t bother with the lights as he led me through the entryway and up the stairs. Then, seconds later I was stepping into his bedroom for the first time.

  The walls were painted the same bleak white as the rest of the house. Just like in the living room, the furniture was nice, good quality, but other than that, it was completely devoid of personality.

  “How long have you lived here?” I asked, moving deeper into the room. He stood with his shoulders against the wall and his arms crossed over his chest as he watched me examine everything.

  “I don’t know, a couple years. Why?”

  I lifted a single shoulder in a shrug. “Don’t get me wrong, it a nice place . . . it just doesn’t feel like you, I guess.”

  The humor in his voice matched the look on his face as he asked, “It doesn’t feel like me?”

  I shot him a playful grin over my shoulder. “You know what I mean. There are no pictures or personal items anywhere. You haven’t decorated at all.”

  He pushed off the wall and started toward me, each step slow and measured. “Never really gave a shit about that kind of stuff. A house is a house. I’m a simple man. All I need is a place to crash, another place to chill, and a place to cook.”

  I felt like I was being hunted, the closer he got, the darker his eyes grew. “But . . . uh, y-your couch would look cute with some toss pillows.”

  He stopped right in front of me, lifting a hand to trace my jawline. “Baby, you wanna get some toss pillows for my couch, go for it. Just don’t expect me to notice or care.”

  His fingers made my skin come alive. “And, um, maybe some artwork for the walls?”

  “Same rules apply as with the pillows. Just make sure it isn’t fuckin’ ugly.”

  As his head began to lower, my voice did the same as I asked, “You’d really let me decorate your house?”

  His breath fanned across my face as he laughed. “Yeah, Farah. On one condition.”

  I swallowed thickly. “W-what’s that?”

  “You stop talkin’ about decorating my house and let me kiss you like I’ve been dyin’ to do.”

  He waited for one second . . . and another. Then he took my silence as the approval it was meant to be. The instant his lips touched mine, I lit up like a firework. All my insecurities washed away in that moment. It was just him and me, and our lips pressed together. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I held on and became lost in the kiss.

  One of his hands tangled in my hair, gripping it and pulling my head to the side for better access, taking the kiss deeper. All I could do was hold on and follow his lead as he devoured my mouth. He bit down on my bottom lip, causing me to suck in a pleasurable gasp at the sharp sting before he laved it with his tongue.

  I dropped my head back when he broke away from my mouth and started trailing warm, wet kisses down my neck.

  “Christ, I want you,” he rumbled, sucking on the sensitive skin beneath my ear. “Can you feel that, baby?” He stood tall, pulling my arm from his neck and grabbing my wrist, bringing my hand down between us. “Feel how fuckin’ hard I am for you.”

  My eyes went big and my lips parted in surprise when my fingers brushed against the massive bulge beneath the denim of his jeans. My palm pressed down harder on instinct, dragging a deep, masculine groan from his chest.

  “Jesus.” He squeezed his eyes shut as I rubbed the heel of my hand up and down the impressive length. “Barely touched me, Hummingbird, and I’m ready to come in my pants like a goddamn teenager.” I would have given anything to see him lose control like that. All because of me. “Are you wet for me, Farah? Do I make you as crazy as you make me?”

  “God, yes.”

  There was something about knowing I had that kind of effect on him that made me feel powerful . . . invincible. I wanted to see him, to feel more of him. Shutting off that voice of warning in the back of my head, I followed my gut. “Cannon, please,” I whimpered as my body begged for more.

  His soft words were spoken against my neck. “You want me, baby?”

  “Yes.” I was a panting, needy mess. “I want you so much I can’t think straight.”

  That was all it took. A moment later, he had me on my back in the middle of his bed. He moved fast after that. Before I could register what was happening, I’d been stripped down to my bra and panties, and Cannon was standing over me in all his naked glory, and there was a lot of glory. Those incredible tattoos weren’t just on his arms. The top half of his muscular chest was also covered in ink, a labyrinth of designs from shoulder to shoulder, across his clavicles. His body was a work of art, more beautiful than any canvas.

  I couldn’t stop staring. My eyes ate up every inch. My gaze traveled down, down, down. The muscles in his hips stood out in a defined V, like an arrow leading down to his perfect cock. Long and thick, it jutted out from a patch of well-trimmed, dark blond hair. There was a tattoo that spanned across his left hip, and another covering most of his right thigh.

  The muscles in his legs bunched and flexed as he put a knee onto the mattress, moving closer. His fingers slipped into the waistband of my panties, and for the first time since we started, that niggling sense of panic returned as he began to drag them down my legs.

  You’re safe, I told myself, and I struggled to keep my breathing steady. This is Cannon. He’d never hurt you. You’re safe, Farah. Safe.

  He sucked in a hiss and began to kiss his way from my stomach to my chest. “You’re so goddamn beautiful.”

  A second later, his fingers made quick work of the clasp on my bra, and my hands came up to cover my naked breasts the instant he whipped it off.

  “Don’t hide yourself from me,” he ordered softly, grabbing my wrists and giving them a gentle pull.

  I clenched my jaw and struggled to keep still as he lowered my arms to my sides. I saw the shock register across his face the moment he spotted the faint scars, and my face and chest heated with a furious blush. “Jesus,” he clipped, reaching up to trail his fingers across each one. “What the fuck, baby?”

  “Surgery. When I was younger,” I said quickly, the lie rolling off my tongue with surprising ease. “It’s not a big deal, I’m all good now.” The concern shining in those hazel eyes was enough to temper the flame of need that had been building in my gut until now, and I was desperate to get that feeling back. “Cannon, please,” I pleaded, squirming beneath him. “Don’t stop.”

  His eyes moved back down to those scars, and I held my breath, watching in fascination as he lowered his head and placed a gentle kiss on each one. He didn’t shy away, wasn’t disgusted by them, and it was enough to make me want to cry. “You’re still perfect.”

  He didn’t say anything else or push for answers, and the relief I felt nearly did me in. He shifted back over me, his lips returning to mine, and the kiss was just as hungry as before. I dragged my nails down his back as one of his hands slipped between us. His fingers brushed against my folds in a feather-light touch, and a rough curse burst from deep in his chest when he felt how wet I was.

  He pulled his head back and looked at my face while he continued to toy with me, keeping his touch agonizingly light. It wasn’t even close to enough, but he knew exactly what he was doing, building that need, making me desperate. “You ready for me?”

  “Please,” I begged. I didn’t want this feeling to end. I wanted to prove to myself that I could do this, but mostly, I just wanted him.

  He shifted on the bed, reaching over to the nightstand and pulling a condom from the drawer.

  My breaths were ragged as I watched him rip the packet open with his straight, white teeth. He slipped the condom in place, and a second later I felt the head of his cock nudge at my entrance.

  My body locked up and my lungs froze as he began to push inside. I had a fleeting moment of oh God, I can’t do this, but before the panic could fully set in, he was kissing me again.

  I wasn’t in that dark, cold parking lot; I was in Cannon’s warm bed. There was no stench of stale cigarette smoke, but instead, all I cou
ld smell was his clean, fresh scent. I no longer worried if I could do this, because I already was. He was inside me, moving, the length of him stretching me in the most delicious way, sending frissons of electricity through my entire body.

  “Fuck,” he grunted against my mouth when he bottomed out. “Christ, Farah, you feel amazing.”

  He did too.

  “Oh God,” I cried when he pulled out and drove back in. It was unlike anything I’d ever felt before. I’d never experienced anything this good. My walls squeezed and pulsed around him with every thrust. “Yes.”

  “Fuck yeah.” He grunted, his hips picking up speed, snapping as he powered into me. “Your pussy’s so goddamn hot.”

  Lifting my legs, I wrapped them around his waist, locking my ankles behind his back as I began tilting my hips to meet his. My fingers dug into his shoulders, and my head pressed back into the pillows as an unfamiliar pressure built in my core.

  It had never been like this before. None of the other men I’d been with—Lance included—had made any effort in getting me there, and the few orgasms I’d had paled in comparison to what I felt already building inside me.

  “Cannon,” I moaned, raking my nails down his back. “Don’t stop, please.”

  “Not a fuckin’ chance.”

  My breasts bounced and my body slid up the mattress with every powerful thrust, and I had to lift an arm to brace myself against the headboard as he drove into me.

  Every muscle and tendon in my body rippled, clenching tighter and tighter the closer I got to what was bound to be an earth-shattering climax. “Oh shit,” I panted, my lungs sucking in oxygen. “I’m close. Baby!”

  “That’s it,” he coaxed, those hazel eyes nearly black with lust. “Get there, Farah. Let me feel you drench my cock.”

  Those fingers returned between my legs. He pressed hard against my clit, and that was it. I went off. My walls clamped down tight. My neck and back arched off the bed, and I cried out my release so loud my throat felt raw by the end.