Part 23 (2/2)
”I want you nonstop. Only you.” He nuzzled against the side of her neck, effectively melting her anger, if not her hurt. ”Even when you're confused about things.” A damp kiss. ”Or jealous?”
”Cannon.” Her willpower waned, but she got out the protest. ”I'm mad.”
”Don't be.” He teased his nose behind her ear. ”d.a.m.n, you always smell so good, even earlier when you were sweaty.”
It took so little for him to turn her on. ”I do not.”
”I want to breathe you in all over.”
Before she could get too excited over that, he gave her one of his gentle love bites on her shoulder muscle.
As usual, her toes curled and her belly did a somersault.
As if he knew, he opened a firm hand over her stomach, above the waistband of the hip-hugging shorts. Through the cotton of the T-s.h.i.+rt, she felt the heat of his palm. ”Know what I want to do?”
She had an idea, but still asked, ”What?”
”First I want to kiss away your mad, or your confusion or jealousy or whatever it is you're feeling.”
All of the above, actually, and yes, him kissing it away seemed like a terrific idea. Eyes closed, she sighed. ”And second?”
”I want to enjoy dinner with you.”
Her eyes popped open again. She had been expecting something altogether different from him. ”Dinner. Really? Oookay.”
Smiling against her sensitive neck, he added, ”And then...” His hand crept back up to her breast, this time outside her T-s.h.i.+rt. While cuddling and stroking, he said in a hushed, husky whisper, ”I want to touch you some more. Like this, but without your s.h.i.+rt in the way.”
The soft groan came of its own volition.
”Those itty-bitty shorts have me fantasizing all kinds of things.”
Glad that he liked her shorts-because she knew she'd worn them specifically to get his mind back on her-she pressed back into him.
”Yeah. Like that.”
His hand was big, hard, hot, and the way his palm rasped over her stiffened nipple made breathing difficult. ”You want me to touch you, don't you?”
”I do, but-”
”Say you do, Yvette.”
To encourage the right answer, he caught her nipple, tugging gently, rolling, so that her ”Yes” came out as a quivering moan.
”There you go.” His hand went down to her thigh. ”It's going to be really easy to get under the frayed hem of these barely there shorts.” To prove his point, he edged his rough fingertips along her upper thigh, higher and higher until he slipped under the fringe- ”Cannon...” She wanted him, so much, but she didn't want to leave him disappointed when things didn't go as he hoped. ”I'm not sure-”
”Just touching.” Pulling her around to face him, Cannon took her mouth in a consuming kiss. One hand tangled in her hair, the other opened wide on her backside to keep her pressed tight to him. Against her mouth, he said, ”I can handle it if you can.”
It took two shuddering breaths before she was capable of answering. ”Okay.”
Satisfaction, and something more, grew bright in his mesmerizing gaze. She stared up at him, knowing it'd be agony to have his hands on her without ever actually reaching release. She wasn't at all certain she could bear it, but denying him-or herself-would only be worse.
At the interruption of a ringing phone, Yvette realized she'd left her cell out in the garage. She was both relieved at the delay and frustrated that she couldn't discover where the moment would lead.
When she stood there, Cannon brushed the backs of his knuckles over her cheek. ”Want me to get it?”
She wanted him to go on touching and teasing her.
”No.” She smoothed her hand over his chest, down his impressive abs, then got her feet moving even though her legs felt weak and she a.s.sumed it'd just be Heath pestering her again. ”I'll be right back.”
”Okay. I'll finish up our dinner.”
Heated from the inside out, Yvette wondered at Cannon's new plan, and whether or not his detachment was part of that plan, or if he could really do this and remain so unaffected.
Because she couldn't.
Just as she reached the garage, the phone stopped ringing. Of course it was Heath again. His message went to voice mail. She listened to him rant about loving her while also cursing her for not loving him back. Relieved that he was on the opposite coast, she deleted the vile message and blocked his number.
Cannon had closed and locked the garage door so her packages were secure. Before she started going through everything again, she'd wrestle open the dusty window adjacent from the interior door so that the air could move a little. Maybe then it wouldn't be so bad.
She might also figure out how to pull down that ladder so she could check out the storage s.p.a.ce up over the ceiling.
She got back in the kitchen in time to see Cannon drop angel-hair pasta atop the onions and olive oil, stir it all up and add fresh Parmesan cheese.
It smelled heavenly.
He watched her put her phone on the counter. ”Heath again?”
No reason to bore him with the ugly details. ”Yes, but I blocked him.” Getting out plates and refilling their gla.s.ses, she set the table. And even that, the simple act of two place settings instead of one, filled her with emotion.
Taking her by surprise, Cannon stroked her backside, murmured, ”Irresistible,” then stepped around her to load up the plates. ”What are you thinking about so seriously?”
Still on high alert from that casual caress and incredible compliment, she smiled at him. ”I haven't done this since I moved away.” She indicated the table. ”Sitting down with someone for a home-cooked meal night after night.”
He put diced tomatoes over the pasta. ”Tipton was a good cook?”
”Country cooking.” Very different from the healthy stuff Cannon preferred. ”Most everything he fixed was a one-pot meal, with chicken and dumplings being his specialty.”
A gentleman to the core, Cannon pulled out her chair. ”He taught you to cook?”
”Yes.” Yvette realized that having someone to talk to, especially about her grandpa, was as poignant as the cozy dinners together. ”Stew, soup, sauerkraut and ribs, ham and cabbage.” She grinned. ”All stuff you don't eat.”
”All stuff I love.” He sat across from her, then stretched out his long legs so that his feet caged hers in. ”Mom was a country cook, too. I took up running early in life just so she couldn't fatten me up.”
”Bull.” For as long as she'd known Cannon, he'd been a specimen. ”I'm not believing that.”
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