Cannon (Carolina Reapers 5)

“Can you please slow down?” she called after me. “Not all of us are six feet tall!”

“Six five,” I threw over my shoulder. “Wait here.” I slipped into the team locker room and grabbed my bag. She’d caught up to me by the time I exited. “Follow me.”

I led her down the hall a bit to the away locker room, then flipped the light switch and held the door open for her.

“Well, at least I’m getting two-word sentences,” she muttered as she passed under my arm. God, everything about the woman was petite except her curves. Those were fully fleshed out, as my brain liked to remind me every five fucking seconds since waking up in bed next to her.

“What can I do for you, wife?” Why the fuck did I say that? Just because I could? Because as soon as the annulment went through, she’d be free to have someone else call her that? A rage bubble rose in my throat at the thought.

“I just need to talk to you for a second.” Oh great, now she was pulling on her pearls, which was a definite sign that she was stressed.

“Okay.” I stripped off my shirt and threw it on the bench.

Her eyes widened, and her lips parted as her gaze skimmed my chest, no doubt horrified by the amount of ink I had going on there. Hadn’t she gotten an eyeful in that hotel room?

I kicked off my shoes, peeled off my socks, and tossed them in the same direction as my shirt. Then I dropped my athletic shorts, leaving me in nothing but my black boxer briefs.

The fact that I was semi-hard didn’t faze me. That was pretty much my constant state around Persephone, and I’d gotten used to it. Apparently, she hadn’t, though, because her eyes had graduated from wide to fucking huge.

“You’re not talking.” I grabbed my shower bag and walked right past her slackened jaw.

Of course, my ink shocked her. The guys she’d been with probably had their frat symbols inked on their arms, and that was it. Hell, if that.

“Right. Um. Sorry. It’s just that you’re naked.” Her voice pitched ridiculously high, and I grinned as I headed for the shower, knowing she couldn’t see it.

“Not yet, but soon, sweetheart.” I reached the showers and started to lower my boxer briefs.

“Oh my God! Right! I’ll just wait out here!”

I glanced over my shoulder to see her covering her eyes with her hand, backing away like she’d stumbled onto the set of a porn.

“You do that,” I called out before turning on the shower and getting to business. I took my time, careful not to give my already-eager cock too much attention as I washed. The last thing I needed was to sport a full hard on while trying to deal with whatever shit she wanted to talk about.

She’d probably faint right on the spot.

I finished my shower, then wrapped myself in a towel, tucking it in at the waist before walking back into the locker room.

She sat next to my gym bag and meticulously folded pile of laundry. God, the woman couldn’t even stand to have dirty clothes out of place, so how the hell had she ever thought marrying me was a good idea?

“You said you wanted to talk. So, talk.”

“Right. I did.” She stood like it would somehow put us on an even playing ground when I was a good foot or more taller than she was. I momentarily thought about lifting her to the bench so she wouldn’t have to crane her neck. “Look, about our marriage…”

“The one I already promised to get annulled first thing Monday?”

“Monday?” She looked stricken.

“Damn, Princess, I know people jump at your command, but we literally got married on a Friday. I can’t exactly ask my lawyer to file papers at a court that isn’t open until Monday. I’m sorry I can’t wave a magic wand and make the last forty-eight hours disappear, but I’m trying my hardest.”

“What? No. That’s not what I meant.” She shook her head, sending her hair moving in a ripple.

Fuck, she was beautiful. Fucking flawless.

“Then please tell me what you meant.”

Her gaze lingered on my abs before she dragged it up to meet mine. “It’s really hard to think when you’re not wearing any clothes,” she snapped.

“I think just fine. I’d even go as far to say that I do my best work without my clothes.”

She seethed. “Cannon, please! I’m trying to talk about something serious, and I can’t very well do that when you’re standing there all...” She stepped forward, her gaze locked on my stomach, and she reached forward, almost absent-minded.

“Don’t.” I stepped out of her reach, and her eyes flew to mine, wide and embarrassed. “Standing here all what?” I dared her. “Inked? Scary? Scandalous?”

“Gorgeous!” she snapped, then blinked. “Scary? You’re not scary. You’re distracting the shit out of me, but you’re not scary.”