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?”
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?”
