Part 28 (1/2)
d.a.m.n it, he had no business doing this, tormenting himself like a m.a.s.o.c.h.i.s.t. As quietly as possible, he left the bed, found his shorts on the floor and pulled them on. With one last lingering look at her body, then at her beautiful relaxed face, he snuck out of the room.
He was a fighter, d.a.m.n it. He had control. He had willpower.
He understood motivation and staying the course despite discomfort to his body. He could and would do this-and in the end, he'd get the prize.
Yvette.
Twenty minutes later, anxious to run off the taut urges before facing her again, Cannon headed out the door. He wore shorts and running shoes, but he had his phone with him in case Yvette woke and called him before he got back.
He saw the writing on his dusty truck as soon as he reached the driveway. ”Rissy was here.”
Her typical M.O. He'd often found similar notes from her, always short and succinct, whenever he missed her visits. ”Rissy was here.” That was his cue to get in touch.
He smiled. So his sister was home. He checked his cell and sure enough, the call he hadn't answered last night was from her. He immediately called her back.
She answered on the third ring with an exaggerated groan. ”Not all of us get up at the b.u.t.t crack of dawn, Cannon.”
”It's seven-thirty.”
”Isn't that what I just said?”
Loving her a lot, he smiled. ”You wrote on my truck.”
”I wrote in your dust. Seriously, clean the thing.”
He circled the truck and noticed footprints that couldn't belong to his sister. ”Been busy.”
”Yeah.” Sounds of her sitting up filtered through the line. ”I heard.”
Looking around the area and finding nothing more suspicious than an elderly couple smooching on the porch across the street, he asked, ”From who?”
Silence. A long, strain-filled silence.
”Rissy?”
”Fighter gossip. You know how the guys are.”
He laughed. ”You're nuts.”
”So how about breakfast? You free?”
”Sure.” He wanted to see her. ”I can skip my jog.” ”No, not now. Around ten?”
”That's d.a.m.n near lunch, but sure. I'll pick you up.”
”No, your truck only seats two and I want you to bring Yvette. Come home. I'll cook.”
He paused, frowning. So she knew about Yvette, huh? Maybe the guys were gossiping like a bunch of old hens.
Rather than get into it over the phone, he said, ”You just flew in from j.a.pan. Instead of cooking, take the day off. My treat.” They could spend the morning together and he could explain...what? That he'd manipulated a bad situation so he could take advantage?
She snorted. ”Did you take a day off after you got home?”
Rubbing the back of his neck, Cannon walked around the house, checking every window, but saw nothing amiss. ”That's a long story.”
”And I can't wait to hear it. So are you taking a break? Can I cook an old-fas.h.i.+oned breakfast or do I need to make puke, puke, puke-wheat pancakes or something?”
Grinning at her antics, Cannon said, ”I'd kill for some home fries and bacon.”
”And drop biscuits and honey? Yum. I'm on it. Ten o'clock, okay? Don't be late.”
He ended the call and clipped the phone to his waistband, but before he could take off, he felt eyes on him.
Turning, he found Yvette in the front doorway. When his gaze met hers she blushed bright red and looked down at her feet.
Morning suns.h.i.+ne poured over her, making her fair skin golden and showing reddish highlights in her dark hair. She wore only a s.h.i.+rt, leaving her beautiful legs on display. He knew for a fact she wasn't wearing a bra, and given how she tugged down the hem of the s.h.i.+rt, he guessed she'd left the panties behind, too.
f.u.c.k the jog. A triathlon wouldn't diminish the l.u.s.tinspired need twisting through him.
Looking at her body, he headed back up the walk. ”Morning.”
Her bare feet s.h.i.+fted. ”You were going without me?”
”You looked pretty zoned when I left the bed.” When he reached her, he smoothed back her long hair. Her skin was sleep warm, her hair tangled, her eyes heavy-and his c.o.c.k thickened with wanting her. ”Sleep well?”
Nodding, she asked, ”You?”
Barely a wink, but he lied. ”Yeah.” She wouldn't meet his gaze, and he knew it was embarra.s.sment. He never should have rushed things. ”I'll wait if you want to get ready.”
She shook her head.
Only then did he realize how she held herself. Not just embarra.s.sed, but defensive. Worried. Uncertain.
”Hey.” He tipped up her chin. ”What is it?”
”I want...I want to be totally up-front and honest. About everything.”
”Yeah.” He wanted that, too. Nudging her back inside and out of view of pa.s.sersby, he agreed. ”Always.”
She s.h.i.+fted her weight from one hip to the other, drawing his attention to her legs again. Like a molten flashback, he remembered her tender thighs against his jaw, the heady taste of her, how she'd moved and the provoking sounds she'd made.
”That was so...unexpected.”
”What was?”
”How you made me...come.”
He got his gaze off her rack and onto her face in time to see her tongue slick over her bottom lip.
He barely contained a groan. d.a.m.n, he was on the ragged edge again. If she touched him just once, he'd go off like a Fourth of July celebration.