Followed by Yvette’s screech.
* * *
HEART STILL LODGED in her throat, flattened up to the wall, Yvette took in the broken glass glittering over the sink, across the floor. The item that had sailed through the window? There, half under the table...
A fist-size rock.
Cannon shot into the room, heaving like a marauder. His gaze went everywhere in a nanosecond before searching over her body.
“I’m okay,” she told him fast, and pointed. “A rock. From outside.”
“It didn’t hit you? You aren’t cut?”
“No. Just...it startled me.”
His gaze narrowed on the window, frustration visibly mounted, and he started to bolt out again.
“Wait!”
Gaze locking on hers, he barked, “What?”
He really wanted to take someone apart, she could tell. But she didn’t want to be left alone.
Using his pause to her advantage, Yvette grabbed his arm. “Don’t you dare go out there.” She prepared an excuse for why he should stay, but the worry quickly became a reality.
Aghast at the possibility, she whispered, “What if someone is in the house?”
Cannon’s eyes flared. “Call 911.” He again started to turn away, but thought to add, “Stay in the kitchen.”
Hands shaking, she put in the call, then leaned out the kitchen doorway to watch as Cannon went down the hall, this time with more stealth. He checked the basement door, saw it was still locked and continued down to the baths and bedrooms.
When the dispatcher answered, she quickly explained the situation to the very calm lady on the other end of the line.
The dispatcher assured her that an officer was on the way, but wanted Yvette to stay on the phone until he arrived.
Giving a blow-by-blow report of Cannon’s progress through the house—without finding anything—helped her recollect her calm.
When Cannon returned, Yvette explained that he hadn’t found anything. Almost at the same time the flashing red-and-blue lights showed out front.
With relief, she dropped back against the wall.
Using his flashlight, the officer walked around the house. Two security lights had been shot out with a BB gun. The officer found BBs on the ground and embedded into the side of the house. He took a report, promised to update Logan and Officer Huffman—and got a picture with Cannon.
Though his patience looked strained, Cannon remained friendly and smiled for the photo.
After the officer left, she cleaned up the glass while Cannon secured the kitchen window, and when that was done, she trailed him to the garage.
“Why don’t you go get your shower while I take care of this?”
She hated to admit it, but didn’t see an alternative. “I’d rather wait on you.”
Cannon paused in the act of closing the garage window. As if her vulnerability shaved off a layer of his rage, his shoulders eased. “All right. I’ll only be a minute.”
She sat on the hood of her car, knees drawn up, jumping at every sound. When Cannon hammered a plank of wood over the window, she covered her ears and squeezed her eyes shut.
The noise ended, and his arms came around her, his big hands open on her backside. “You okay?”
She wasn’t, not by a long shot, but she nodded anyway. “Tired.” Forcing her head up, she met his electric-blue eyes, now volatile with indiscernible emotion. “You?”
Calm as you please, he said, “Murderous rage.”
For some reason, that made her smile even as her eyes burned. “I’m sorry.”
“Come on.” He scooped her up against his chest and carried her into the house.
Just for a minute, Yvette thought, as she rested her cheek against his chest. Then she’d get her gumption back and stop letting him pamper her.
“What do you want to do first?” His chin brushed her forehead. “Shower? Eat? Bed?”
You, she answered silently. I want to do you. But sadly, he hadn’t made that an option. Food no longer appealed, not even a bowl of cold cereal. If she tried to eat she just might barf.
“I’m beat,” she said with a trumped-up smile. “I just want to wash my face, brush my teeth and go to bed.” With you hugged tight around me.
“All right.”
She didn’t protest when he carried her into the bathroom. And when he stayed so that they brushed their teeth side by side, she was grateful not be alone.
But then he peeled off his clothes while she washed her face—which made her get soap in her eyes because, seriously, how could she not watch?
When she finished, he took her hand and, wearing only snug boxers, walked with her back into the bedroom.
With every step they took, her heart punched harder, making her breathless. Anticipation sizzled along every nerve ending.
She needed this—she needed him.
He opened a drawer and got out another SBC shirt, then held it in his fist while facing her. “You’re not sleeping in Armie’s shirt.”
Actually, she’d forgotten she had it on. “Okay.” With Cannon near naked, she didn’t need to be convinced. The idea of being skin to skin with him ramped up her excitement even more.
Being daring, thrilled with the way he watched her, she skinned out of her jeans, pulled Armie’s shirt off over her head and then removed the ripped shirt. Seeing the blue of his eyes darken, she reached back for the closure of her bra.
Cannon made a rough sound of near pain and averted his gaze.
Voice quavering, she told him, “You can look.” She wanted him to. She wanted him to look and touch and kiss....
* * *
HEART STILL LODGED in her throat, flattened up to the wall, Yvette took in the broken glass glittering over the sink, across the floor. The item that had sailed through the window? There, half under the table...
A fist-size rock.
Cannon shot into the room, heaving like a marauder. His gaze went everywhere in a nanosecond before searching over her body.
“I’m okay,” she told him fast, and pointed. “A rock. From outside.”
“It didn’t hit you? You aren’t cut?”
“No. Just...it startled me.”
His gaze narrowed on the window, frustration visibly mounted, and he started to bolt out again.
“Wait!”
Gaze locking on hers, he barked, “What?”
He really wanted to take someone apart, she could tell. But she didn’t want to be left alone.
Using his pause to her advantage, Yvette grabbed his arm. “Don’t you dare go out there.” She prepared an excuse for why he should stay, but the worry quickly became a reality.
Aghast at the possibility, she whispered, “What if someone is in the house?”
Cannon’s eyes flared. “Call 911.” He again started to turn away, but thought to add, “Stay in the kitchen.”
Hands shaking, she put in the call, then leaned out the kitchen doorway to watch as Cannon went down the hall, this time with more stealth. He checked the basement door, saw it was still locked and continued down to the baths and bedrooms.
When the dispatcher answered, she quickly explained the situation to the very calm lady on the other end of the line.
The dispatcher assured her that an officer was on the way, but wanted Yvette to stay on the phone until he arrived.
Giving a blow-by-blow report of Cannon’s progress through the house—without finding anything—helped her recollect her calm.
When Cannon returned, Yvette explained that he hadn’t found anything. Almost at the same time the flashing red-and-blue lights showed out front.
With relief, she dropped back against the wall.
Using his flashlight, the officer walked around the house. Two security lights had been shot out with a BB gun. The officer found BBs on the ground and embedded into the side of the house. He took a report, promised to update Logan and Officer Huffman—and got a picture with Cannon.
Though his patience looked strained, Cannon remained friendly and smiled for the photo.
After the officer left, she cleaned up the glass while Cannon secured the kitchen window, and when that was done, she trailed him to the garage.
“Why don’t you go get your shower while I take care of this?”
She hated to admit it, but didn’t see an alternative. “I’d rather wait on you.”
Cannon paused in the act of closing the garage window. As if her vulnerability shaved off a layer of his rage, his shoulders eased. “All right. I’ll only be a minute.”
She sat on the hood of her car, knees drawn up, jumping at every sound. When Cannon hammered a plank of wood over the window, she covered her ears and squeezed her eyes shut.
The noise ended, and his arms came around her, his big hands open on her backside. “You okay?”
She wasn’t, not by a long shot, but she nodded anyway. “Tired.” Forcing her head up, she met his electric-blue eyes, now volatile with indiscernible emotion. “You?”
Calm as you please, he said, “Murderous rage.”
For some reason, that made her smile even as her eyes burned. “I’m sorry.”
“Come on.” He scooped her up against his chest and carried her into the house.
Just for a minute, Yvette thought, as she rested her cheek against his chest. Then she’d get her gumption back and stop letting him pamper her.
“What do you want to do first?” His chin brushed her forehead. “Shower? Eat? Bed?”
You, she answered silently. I want to do you. But sadly, he hadn’t made that an option. Food no longer appealed, not even a bowl of cold cereal. If she tried to eat she just might barf.
“I’m beat,” she said with a trumped-up smile. “I just want to wash my face, brush my teeth and go to bed.” With you hugged tight around me.
“All right.”
She didn’t protest when he carried her into the bathroom. And when he stayed so that they brushed their teeth side by side, she was grateful not be alone.
But then he peeled off his clothes while she washed her face—which made her get soap in her eyes because, seriously, how could she not watch?
When she finished, he took her hand and, wearing only snug boxers, walked with her back into the bedroom.
With every step they took, her heart punched harder, making her breathless. Anticipation sizzled along every nerve ending.
She needed this—she needed him.
He opened a drawer and got out another SBC shirt, then held it in his fist while facing her. “You’re not sleeping in Armie’s shirt.”
Actually, she’d forgotten she had it on. “Okay.” With Cannon near naked, she didn’t need to be convinced. The idea of being skin to skin with him ramped up her excitement even more.
Being daring, thrilled with the way he watched her, she skinned out of her jeans, pulled Armie’s shirt off over her head and then removed the ripped shirt. Seeing the blue of his eyes darken, she reached back for the closure of her bra.
Cannon made a rough sound of near pain and averted his gaze.
Voice quavering, she told him, “You can look.” She wanted him to. She wanted him to look and touch and kiss....
