by Lori Foster
“I’m saying I can’t seem to do…that, no matter what. So you wouldn’t be to blame. There’s just something broken in me.”
“Yvette—”
“You need to understand up front, so you won’t be disappointed.”
So she’d made up her mind that they would be together? Knowing she’d climax, because he’d ensure it, he said, “You could never disappoint me.”
“So far I’ve disappointed every guy I’ve ever been with.”
Yeah, not something he wanted to think about. “You already told me I’m different.”
Her smile was sad and fleeting. “And because of that, I’d still enjoy being close to you, being…with you. So if you want—” she stared him in the eyes “—I’m willing.”
Willing? But not anxious. She hoped to be a sacrifice.
Screw that.
“What I don’t want,” she continued, “is for you to think if you try hard enough, if you’re patient enough, it’ll make a difference. I’m sorry, but I can’t go through that again. It makes it even more frustrating.”
The words sank in. I can’t go through that again. “Spell that one out for me.”
With two fingers she anxiously toyed with a loose lock of hair that had escaped her braid. “I dated guys who were cocky enough to think they only had to finesse things a little more and I’d miraculously launch into a screaming climax.”
He stiffened. “How many guys are we talking about?”
Defensively, she said, “I was trying to find one that’d work!”
He laughed, but he sure as hell wasn’t amused.
Insulted, Yvette started to push off his lap.
Immediately he regretted his reaction. “I’m sorry.” He held on, and when she continued to shove at him, he said again, “I’m sorry! Swear.”
An inch from his face, she snarled, “It is not funny.”
“No, it’s not.” He ran his hands up and down her arms in apology. “That was more a sound of jealousy than humor anyway.”
“Jealousy? Get real.” Still irked, she poked at his chest. “You’re the one who was with five women earlier.”
His brow went up. “Not with them. Don’t say it like that. I was just talking to them. Don’t confuse me with Armie.”
At that she did a double take. In an appalled whisper, she asked, “Five? Seriously? I mean, I know he’s out there, but—”
“I was exaggerating.”
Somewhat disappointed, she said, “Oh.”
“Back on track now, okay?” He eased her against him, arranged her the way he wanted with her snuggled close. And she went along with it, her head in the curve of his shoulder, her long legs draped over the side of his thigh.
“You tried with these other guys, but it didn’t work out?”
“We had sex. It was…okay. But I didn’t…”
“Come.” He couldn’t imagine what it’d be like to go through the motions but never find release. “Did you tell them about your past?”
“No. I’ve never discussed that with anyone.”
“Not even Heath?”
“He knows only the basics, what was in the news. He knows that you saved me. But that’s it.” She released a sigh. “I’ve never been comfortable talking about it with others.”
Only him. He hugged her for that. “So they thought…what?”
“One guy said I wasn’t trying hard enough.”
What an idiot.
“Another assumed I wasn’t sexually attracted to him. He decided I must be into women instead.” Her hand tightened in his shirt. “A couple didn’t care enough to worry about it.”
Damn, but hearing that felt like another punch. He didn’t resent her for seeking pleasure. She was young, healthy, beautiful. But now that she was back, now that he was with her again, he wanted her only with him, and vice versa. “Even though you don’t come, you enjoy sex overall?”
“To a point. But it does get frustrating.” She tilted back to see him. “Heath said I should at least fake it, pretend for his sake, but I couldn’t do that.”
Jesus. “Heath is a fucking idiot.” No, he didn’t want her faking anything. He wanted the real deal, and he’d get it.
No doubts at all.
“In his defense, he was patient for a very long time. And he tried, far more than the other guys did.” She wrinkled her nose. “It’s just—”
Cannon put his fingers over her mouth. God almighty, the last thing he wanted to hear was sex stories about her and Heath. “Did he—did any guy—know he was on a tryout?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Time for more plain speaking. “You said you were trying to find a guy that’d make it work.”
She rolled in her lips. “God, that sounds so awful, doesn’t it?”
No, it sounded desperate. “All women are different, honey. Some get off easy, some don’t. Some like things slow, some rough. Maybe you just haven’t found your way yet.”
She listened, her eyes wide, her cheeks warm.
Had anyone bothered to really figure out what Yvette liked? Did she even know? If she immediately assumed she had a problem, maybe she’d focused so much on that, she’d inhibited herself.
“I know you didn’t discuss the past, but did you tell any guy up front that you had difficulty getting to the big finale?”
Her neck stiffened and she ducked back against him, unwilling to meet his gaze. “It wasn’t exactly a conversation starter. When exactly do you think I’d have brought that up?”
“Right after he came and you didn’t.”
Her laugh held no humor. “No. That would have sounded too much like blame.”
Because it would have been, the selfish pricks. A man should always ensure a woman’s pleasure first. Cannon brushed his thumb over her warm cheek, thinking of what he’d do and how he’d do it once he got her under him—
She wrapped her fingers around his wrist and drew his hand down. “Understand, Cannon. Sometimes guys are selfish, but not always. Others have been patient, and they have tried.”
Others were not him, and as Yvette had said, he was her fantasy. That had to count for something.
How she’d viewed him had always counted for a lot with him. When Yvette looked at him with her big green eyes, he felt about twelve feet tall, and invincible, too.
He wondered about foreplay, about oral sex, if she’d experimented with different positions.
Or had she simply accepted the belief that tragedy had forever altered her?
Not wanting a blow-by-blow report on past lovers, he made up his mind to do his own experimenting with her. He’d discover what she liked and didn’t like, slowly, patiently, methodically, and in the process he’d win her over.
With that decided, he kissed her forehead, the bridge of her nose, down to her mouth. “Here’s what we’ll do.”
CHAPTER TEN
YVETTE LISTENED TO Cannon’s plans—plans that included staying with her, dating her, enjoying her; kissing and touching and making each other crazy.
But no sex.
She marveled that once again he’d surprised her.
“I don’t understand,” she said. “I thought you wanted…”
“Damn right. But I’m not a selfish person.”
“I already know that.”
“Then you should know that I don’t want to do things I’ll enjoy a hell of a lot more than you will.”
Did that mean he’d get his enjoyment elsewhere? With a woman who’d be less trouble?
“You like kissing me,” he said. “I think you’ll like me touching you, too, but not tonight. We’re both tired. We’ll ease into the touching.”
“You’re touching me now,” she felt compelled to point out.
His mouth lifted in a cocky smile. “No, I meant naked touching. On your breasts and nipples, your ass and between your legs.”
Her jaw loosened. Such blatant speaking…well, it spiked her temp and set her heart racing. “I, ah, see.”
The grin turned wo
lfish, and he brought his face close to hers so that she felt his warm breath when he whispered, “I promise you’ll love it when I touch you.”
She believed him. But… “Won’t that just frustrate us both?”
“Yeah.” His mouth moved over hers, his tongue touched, teased, withdrew. “It’s going to be like freshman year all over again.”
She’d spent her freshman year dying for him, and he’d barely noticed her. “You actually think that’s going to be enough?”
Another kiss, a little deeper, definitely hotter. He eased up, but only to her throat, where he murmured against her skin, “I like being with you.” Then he opened his mouth, sucked gently, made her toes curl tight.
“For…” Yvette swallowed. When Cannon did that—oh, and that—to her, it made talking difficult. She sank her fingers into his dark hair. “For how long?”
“I’ll let you know if I start to crack.” His damp mouth moved over her, leaving a tingling trail from her throat to her collarbone, to the sensitive hollow of her shoulder. “Do you always taste this good?”
She let her head drop back. “I don’t know.”
“I bet you do.” He took a gentle love bite of her shoulder muscle, making her gasp as he soothed it with his hot tongue. “I bet you’re this sweet all over.”
It took her a second to piece together what he’d said. Once she did, sensation spread out like a forest fire. “Cannon.”
“Yvette.” He kissed her chin, her nose and her mouth again. Standing, he caught her hands. “Know what I want to do?”
Her knees felt like noodles, and she held on to him for balance. “You haven’t been shy about telling me!”
Laughing, he hauled her up and over his shoulder, then started down the hall.
From her ignominious position, she watched the muscles shift in his tight tush. “Cannon!”
“Maybe a little touching,” he said as his hand moved over her behind.
The thin cotton material of her pajama pants did nothing to blunt the heat of his palm or his exploring fingertips, especially when he traced the outline of her thong panties.
“Nice,” he whispered, and he kissed her hip.
Bracing her hands against his back, Yvette said, “What are we doing?”
He veered into her bedroom. “Calling it a night, so don’t get excited.”
Too late. She’d gotten excited with his first kiss. “I see.” Disappointment welled up, but she kept it to herself.
One-handed he pulled back her comforter, deposited her gently against the sheets, then sat on the side of the mattress.
For a stunned moment she just lay there, but as he bent to untie his sneakers she scampered into a sitting position.
“Cannon?” she said again, this time with confusion.
Toeing off each shoe and pulling off his socks, he set them next to her nightstand. “I’m going to sleep with you, okay?” Not waiting for her to deny him, he reached back and pulled his shirt up and over his head. He dropped it over a chair.
Yvette stared. As a fighter, he was so physically fit and downright perfect that it was no wonder a slow burn started in her belly.
Especially when his hands went to the fly of his jeans.
She felt like she should have done something—moved, spoke. Encouraged.
All she managed was some heavy breathing.
Shoving his jeans down, but leaving on his dark blue boxers, he smiled at her. “Just sleeping.”
Right. There’d be no “just” to it, not with a man like Cannon.
She was still sitting there speechless when he said, “Scoot over.”
In his boxers.
All that gorgeous flesh showing. Those ripped muscles. And his scent…
She scooted.
He stretched out facing her, one arm behind his head, the other touching her face. “So how do you sleep?”
“Alone.”
“Not tonight. Or tomorrow. Or…I guess however long you let me stay.”
Forever. No, she couldn’t say that. Eventually he’d want what she couldn’t give. When it sunk in that she wasn’t very fun in the sack, then he’d be done. But until then… “Usually on my side.”
“Left or right?”
Her heart beat too fast and her mouth felt dry, but she wasn’t a dummy. She wasn’t about to pass up the best offer of her lifetime. As she’d told him, he was her fantasy.
And he wanted to sleep with her, to hold her all through the night.
“How about like this?” Slowly, Yvette lay back down, then curled up against him, her head in the crook of his arm, her hand resting protectively on his bruised ribs. And, oh, God, it felt right. “This okay?”
His voice went husky and deep. “Better than okay.” He tugged her closer, kissed her head and stretched out his other arm to kill the light.
The darkness cocooned them, making it all seem more intimate.
Cannon trailed his fingertips up and down her bare arm. “I almost forgot to tell you. There was some attempted vandalism at the pawnshop.”
She tried to lift up to see him, but he said, “Shh. No damage. Just a kid being an idiot. I ran him off.”
Envisioning graffiti on the walls, she sighed. “I guess with it being empty, that’s going to happen.”
“Probably. So I was thinking our priority should be putting up more lights and maybe an alarm system.”
Enjoying the novelty of conversation in bed while hugged up to Cannon’s hard frame, she gave it a quick thought. “Grandpa left some money. We could use—”
“I’ve got it.”
Comfortable as she was, she knew she had to take a stand. “If we’re not using the cash left to us, then I’ll have to insist on paying my half.”
He stilled, but not for long. “I guess you have a point. We probably need to sit down and go over everything Tipton left. See what our options are.”
“Thank you.”
His hand continued to glide up and down her arm in a tender caress. “Yvette?”
“Hmm?”
“We’re going to work this out. All of it. The house. The shop.” He shifted, pulled her thigh up over his and settled in more comfortably. “Us.”
It hit her then.
Cannon had come to her rescue in the past; he wanted to rescue her again. Old habits, it seemed, were hard to break.
She gave one small nod, whispered, “Okay,” and did her best to hide the disappointment—with herself.
Apparently three years hadn’t really changed anything after all.
*
AMAZING HOW QUICKLY you could get used to something. It had been only five days, but she and Cannon had quickly gotten into a steady routine.
They jogged together in the mornings, then often parted ways for the afternoon, although they sometimes met up for lunch at Rowdy’s. He did his thing, she did hers, then they hooked up again in the evening.
And slept together every night.
She loved it. But so much closeness had her on the ragged edge. Maybe him, too. They’d both stayed as busy as possible during the day.
Cannon had worked on changing out some of the security features on the house and adding others to the pawnshop. Once that was done he and Armie had set up a minigym in the basement. His stamina was through the roof. He never seemed to tire, had boundless energy and was the most dedicated person she’d ever known. Other than treating himself a couple of times with fast food, he stuck to a healthy diet-and-exercise program, both at the rec center with the other guys and at home.
In fact, there were a few mornings when he’d already been out of bed and working up a sweat in the basement before she’d even awakened.
Though Cannon seemed to be handling things just fine, the novelty of it all kept her slightly off balance. Showering with Cannon in the house. Seeing him in his boxers in the morning when he left the bed. Watching him shave. Watching him sweat when he did a hard workout.
Each night they had dinner together, then relaxed in the evening with a movie
or games on her Wii.
Until he led her off to bed.
To sleep.
Oh, he touched her. A lot. Kissed her, too.
But not the type of touching he’d hinted at.
Never before had she enjoyed this sort of comfortable but charged familiarity with a man. With Cannon around, making new memories, the old memories didn’t have a chance of intruding.
A text sounded on her phone. She glanced at it, but it was Heath. Again. Cannon knew her ex was still bugging her and he didn’t like it, but she’d told him she was handling it, and she would. Rather than text Heath back, Yvette just shoved the phone into her pocket and headed for the garage.
At five o’clock with the sun high overhead, not a cloud in sight, the heat was enough to keep most people indoors. In the garage it was even worse, so she wrestled up the old, heavy door in hopes of catching a stray breeze.
To help keep herself from going nuts, she’d worked her way through much of the stuff her grandpa had stored away. So far she’d inventoried the contents of two of the storage units and had only one more to go. She found a method to his organizational style, realizing that big, bulky things were in one unit, pricey items in another more expensive but also safer facility.
She couldn’t wait to see what he’d put in the last.
But just an hour ago, several boxes had arrived from Vanity. Yvette wanted to know exactly what she had before she got set up, to ensure she didn’t have to move things too many times. The boxes from Vanity were good-size, but she assumed they held numerous smaller items—jewelry, knickknacks, games, that sort of thing.
It was as she was opening boxes in the garage that she noticed the new folding ladder on the garage ceiling. Huh. She didn’t remember ever seeing it before. A rope hung from the ladder, presumably to pull it down and give access to the garage attic. But she couldn’t reach it.
She was standing there, staring up at it, when her phone rang. Again it was Heath.
Tired of the games, Yvette snatched up the phone and said by way of greeting, “What?”
Silence greeted her.
Fine. He wanted to pout? He could do it alone. “I’m hanging up now.”
“No.” Heath’s voice, raw with appeal, called out to her. “Don’t.”
“You have to stop calling me, Heath.”
