YVETTE HAD BEEN quiet through the rest of dinner and the cleanup afterward.
Maybe feeling nervous, as soon as the last dish was put away she’d gathered up dirty laundry and disappeared into the basement for an hour. Unwilling to rush her, he’d used the time to do other cleaning. When she’d heard the vacuum, she’d charged back up the steps.
It was kind of funny how she’d reacted. Even after he’d told her he was a neat freak and could damn well handle housework, she’d seemed put out. Reluctantly she’d put away the laundry and taken a seat, mostly so that he would sit, too.
As he joined her, her gaze went watchful and wary.
Did she expect him to jump her? To strip off her shirt and start pawing her? If so, he’d disappoint her by going so slow, she’d be the one asking him to take the shirt off her.
Eventually she’d ask for everything.
But as he’d told her, tonight would be a sweet torment. They’d both end up frustrated, but she’d get comfortable with him.
Eventually comfortable enough to let herself go.
She’d put her cell phone on the coffee table, so he did the same, then put his wallet and keys there, as well.
She went wide-eyed, maybe thinking he was going to stop. Hell of an idea, because he’d love to have her hands all over him, but not yet. His iron control, strong as it might be, had limits.
Facing her as he sat, one arm along the back of the couch so he could toy with her long hair, Cannon did his utmost to sound casual instead of primed. “Did I tell you that Rowdy and I agreed for me to work the bar on Saturday? He advertised it all week. Should be a big crush.”
“Saturday?”
“Yeah.” Twining his fingers in her hair, he used it to tug her closer. “You’ll be there, right?”
Her lips parted and she breathed deeper. “I don’t know.”
Well, he did. She’d go with him, and they’d have a blast. It was important for her to understand the chemistry between them wasn’t just sexual.
As he leaned down toward her, her thick, dark lashes lowered over her eyes. Big, beautiful, green eyes.
But then he found everything about her appealing.
Taking her mouth gently, he kissed her lower lip, then her upper before aligning their mouths perfectly in a soft, hungry kiss.
It gratified him, encouraged him, when she melted against him.
Surely a woman who reacted so easily could be taken over the edge to the big O. With the right man.
Him.
“I want you there,” he told her while kissing a path to her ear.
“Okay.”
“I don’t mind if other women flirt—”
She started to pull away but he kept her close.
“—as long as they understand the limits.” He traced her ear with the tip of his tongue and felt her shiver. “Seeing you there with me will make others understand.”
Her hands fisted in his shirt as she leaned into him. “Understand what?”
“That we’re together.” He kissed behind her ear, down to her nape. “The guys will be there, too. But they already know how it is.”
“Other fighters?”
“Mmm,” he answered while opening his mouth against her skin. “About that touching...”
Her breath caught. “Yes?”
He took her hand and carried it down to his erection. He was already engorged, throbbing. But giving himself time hadn’t helped with his control.
No, it had only made him more urgent.
“You can go first.”
Now she inhaled sharply. Her hand was small, her touch tentative as she traced along his length.
Dying just a little, Cannon encouraged her with murmured words of pleasure. She wrapped her fingers around him as much as she could through the material of his cargo shorts—then squeezed.
“Damn.” He held himself still a moment until he gained control, then took her hand away. “Hang on a sec, honey.”
She watched with smoky intensity while he pulled off his shirt and tossed it aside. “Let’s try this again, above the waist this time.”
Without hesitation she put both hands on him, stroking over his pecs to his shoulders, then back down again to silently examine each ab muscle. When she bent toward him, he froze, his heart hammering hard.
The first touch of her mouth tested his resolve. She brushed her lips gently over each fading bruise, rubbed her cheek against his chest hair, inhaled deeply, drinking in his scent.
Knotting a hand in her hair, Cannon said, “You should know, babe, everything you do to me, I get to repay in kind.”
Her heated gaze lifted to his. While they stared at each other she brought both hands over his ni**les, lightly dragged her nails over him, then bent again to flick with her tongue.
Jesus. He let her play a minute more, then abruptly said, “My turn.” It wasn’t easy to remember his plan with his heart trying to punch through his ribs, but he got it together.
“I like touching you.”
“Yeah?” He went back to kissing her neck, down to the upper swells of her br**sts.
“You told me to tell you what I like. I like that.”
“What about this?” Carefully, he closed his teeth over her T-shirt–covered nipple, then pressed with his tongue, leaving the thin fabric damp.
Her hands clenched in his hair, and when he moved to the other breast, she led him to her, arched into him. Right before he kissed that nipple, he asked, “You like this, Yvette?”
“Yes.”
Maybe feeling nervous, as soon as the last dish was put away she’d gathered up dirty laundry and disappeared into the basement for an hour. Unwilling to rush her, he’d used the time to do other cleaning. When she’d heard the vacuum, she’d charged back up the steps.
It was kind of funny how she’d reacted. Even after he’d told her he was a neat freak and could damn well handle housework, she’d seemed put out. Reluctantly she’d put away the laundry and taken a seat, mostly so that he would sit, too.
As he joined her, her gaze went watchful and wary.
Did she expect him to jump her? To strip off her shirt and start pawing her? If so, he’d disappoint her by going so slow, she’d be the one asking him to take the shirt off her.
Eventually she’d ask for everything.
But as he’d told her, tonight would be a sweet torment. They’d both end up frustrated, but she’d get comfortable with him.
Eventually comfortable enough to let herself go.
She’d put her cell phone on the coffee table, so he did the same, then put his wallet and keys there, as well.
She went wide-eyed, maybe thinking he was going to stop. Hell of an idea, because he’d love to have her hands all over him, but not yet. His iron control, strong as it might be, had limits.
Facing her as he sat, one arm along the back of the couch so he could toy with her long hair, Cannon did his utmost to sound casual instead of primed. “Did I tell you that Rowdy and I agreed for me to work the bar on Saturday? He advertised it all week. Should be a big crush.”
“Saturday?”
“Yeah.” Twining his fingers in her hair, he used it to tug her closer. “You’ll be there, right?”
Her lips parted and she breathed deeper. “I don’t know.”
Well, he did. She’d go with him, and they’d have a blast. It was important for her to understand the chemistry between them wasn’t just sexual.
As he leaned down toward her, her thick, dark lashes lowered over her eyes. Big, beautiful, green eyes.
But then he found everything about her appealing.
Taking her mouth gently, he kissed her lower lip, then her upper before aligning their mouths perfectly in a soft, hungry kiss.
It gratified him, encouraged him, when she melted against him.
Surely a woman who reacted so easily could be taken over the edge to the big O. With the right man.
Him.
“I want you there,” he told her while kissing a path to her ear.
“Okay.”
“I don’t mind if other women flirt—”
She started to pull away but he kept her close.
“—as long as they understand the limits.” He traced her ear with the tip of his tongue and felt her shiver. “Seeing you there with me will make others understand.”
Her hands fisted in his shirt as she leaned into him. “Understand what?”
“That we’re together.” He kissed behind her ear, down to her nape. “The guys will be there, too. But they already know how it is.”
“Other fighters?”
“Mmm,” he answered while opening his mouth against her skin. “About that touching...”
Her breath caught. “Yes?”
He took her hand and carried it down to his erection. He was already engorged, throbbing. But giving himself time hadn’t helped with his control.
No, it had only made him more urgent.
“You can go first.”
Now she inhaled sharply. Her hand was small, her touch tentative as she traced along his length.
Dying just a little, Cannon encouraged her with murmured words of pleasure. She wrapped her fingers around him as much as she could through the material of his cargo shorts—then squeezed.
“Damn.” He held himself still a moment until he gained control, then took her hand away. “Hang on a sec, honey.”
She watched with smoky intensity while he pulled off his shirt and tossed it aside. “Let’s try this again, above the waist this time.”
Without hesitation she put both hands on him, stroking over his pecs to his shoulders, then back down again to silently examine each ab muscle. When she bent toward him, he froze, his heart hammering hard.
The first touch of her mouth tested his resolve. She brushed her lips gently over each fading bruise, rubbed her cheek against his chest hair, inhaled deeply, drinking in his scent.
Knotting a hand in her hair, Cannon said, “You should know, babe, everything you do to me, I get to repay in kind.”
Her heated gaze lifted to his. While they stared at each other she brought both hands over his ni**les, lightly dragged her nails over him, then bent again to flick with her tongue.
Jesus. He let her play a minute more, then abruptly said, “My turn.” It wasn’t easy to remember his plan with his heart trying to punch through his ribs, but he got it together.
“I like touching you.”
“Yeah?” He went back to kissing her neck, down to the upper swells of her br**sts.
“You told me to tell you what I like. I like that.”
“What about this?” Carefully, he closed his teeth over her T-shirt–covered nipple, then pressed with his tongue, leaving the thin fabric damp.
Her hands clenched in his hair, and when he moved to the other breast, she led him to her, arched into him. Right before he kissed that nipple, he asked, “You like this, Yvette?”
“Yes.”
