Cannon (Carolina Reapers 5)

6

Persephone

“I want way more than just your lips on mine, Persephone.”

Cannon’s words replayed in my head over and over.

As did the memory of his lips on mine. His body pressed against me, winding me up like a coiled spring. The way he’d effortlessly lifted me and splayed me out on the desk as if we had all the time in the world to explore each other, taste each other. And sweet heavens did he taste so good. I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that kiss. About the way his touch had seared me to my very soul. And I wanted more. So much more—

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Cannon asked around a mouthful of cereal. “You’ve never seen a grown man eat Rice Krispies before?”

I blinked a few times, backing out of the memory but losing none of the heat pulsing in my blood. Hunger, fierce and brutal, nipped at every inch of my body. A need I never knew existed until Cannon had set his lips on me.

Lips that currently closed around another spoonful of cereal as he leaned over the kitchen island, eating breakfast. It had been a week of this—a week of pretending like that kiss in my father’s study didn’t happen.

But it did happen, and try as I might, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

He continued to stare at me from over his bowl, eyebrows raised.

Waiting for an answer.

Oh, right.

I situated on my barstool, my phone with an email pulled up on the screen in my hand. “I was thinking of how to respond to this email,” I said. “But naturally, you would think eating cereal makes you irresistible.” I doubted my eye roll was very convincing because he gave me one of those rare laughs I’d started to look forward to.

“I never said anything about me being irresistible, Princess,” he said, swirling that spoon along the edge of the bowl. “But I’m glad to know this does it for you.” He brought the spoon to his mouth and somehow—though I didn’t think it possible—he ate the bite in a sinfully seductive way that made me want to throw the cereal box at his head.

I scoffed and returned my focus to the unread email—despite having read it three times. I couldn’t focus. Not with him and his spoon licking.

My cell vibrated in my hand, a text flashing over the screen.

Sister: The parents kicked me out. I need a place to crash. Be at your new hubby’s in ten.

I jolted in my seat, the phone dropping from my hand.

“Shit!”

“What?” Cannon was instantly at my side, so quickly I hadn’t seen him move, his cereal bowl forgotten on the other side of the island.

“My sister,” I said, my heart racing, “is on her way here!” I bolted off the stool, my bare feet padding against the hardwood as I hurried to my room. “Help me, Cannon!” I hollered behind me, though I knew he’d followed.

“Help you what?” he asked as I darted into my room and into the en-suite bathroom.

I grabbed everything I used daily, cradling it against my chest as I booked it past Cannon and toward his room down the hall.

Cannon blocked my entry. “Oh, no, Princess, I said—”

“To hell with your rules, Cannon! Andromeda is nearly here, and if she finds out I’m sleeping in a guest room despite being blissfully married to your gorgeous ass, what do you think she’ll say? You witnessed how she acted at the engagement party,” I said. “She’ll twist the information to her advantage.” I paused, my heart sinking. “What do you think she’ll tell my mother?”

He furrowed his brow. “She’d do that?”

“Yes. She’d do that and more.” I sighed. “My parents kicked her out—it’s not the first time—and she needs a place to stay.”

“And you want her here, even though she could potentially betray you?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Obviously,” he said, but he didn’t move. “I don’t understand the upper-class-gossip-war.”

“She’s my sister,” I said, eyes pleading. “What would you do for Lillian?”

He moved and opened the door to his room, allowing me inside. All at once, I was hit with an essence of him—his smell, his books stacked on the nightstand by his bed and strewn across the dark wood dresser across the room. “What do you need from me?”

I swore I melted a bit at his words.

“Grab the clothes out of the dresser in my room, please? You can just toss them in here anywhere. I don’t care. The gowns and dresses are fine hanging in the guest closet, since we can always say we were saving space in here. It’s just the daily stuff—”

“I’m on it,” he said, cutting off my ramble. He disappeared as I found my way into his bathroom and dumped the contents of my facial régime into a random drawer. I’d organize later. Or I wouldn’t. I didn’t know how long she’d be staying.