“Cannon? Are you okay?” Her brow puckered as she stood over the mixing bowl, watching me.
“You’re wearing my jersey.” She had my name on her back. A wave of primal possession washed over me.
She glanced down and laughed softly. “Oh. Right. Sorry, I got peanut butter all over my shirt, and this was hanging in the mudroom closet. Wait. Are you mad?”
The way her southern accent curved around the words was sweeter music than anything she could have been playing through the speaker.
“No.” My tone was gruff.
“Okay, then. Good,” she said with a bright smile. “What were you thinking about for dinner?” she asked as she turned around to grab a cookie sheet, flashing my name and number over her back again.
If you have a chance to be happy, even if it’s just for a few months, then be happy.
Logan’s words echoed through my brain.
Then the only sound in my head was my own voice chanting, mine. Mine. Mine.
I stalked across the hardwood floor, rounding the corner of the island when she looked up. She must have seen something in my eyes because the cookie sheet rattled against the counter as she dropped it.
“Cannon?”
“Persephone,” I growled her name like the curse and the prayer it was, then gripped the nape of her neck and kissed her.
She gasped, and I filled her mouth with my tongue, stroking it against hers, demanding her response. She gave it, gripping my arms and rising against me, kissing me back without reservation.
I grabbed her ass with both hands and lifted her, and she wrapped her legs around my waist just like I knew she would. The kiss was ravenous and consuming, neither of us giving quarter as I sat her on the edge of the island.
Her fingers tunneled into my hair, and she pulled slightly, holding me to her kiss with the sweetest bite of pain as she licked the roof of my mouth. “I love kissing you,” she whispered against my mouth.
“Good.” Because she wasn’t kissing anyone else. This mouth was mine. This body was mine. She was mine. I tilted her head and kissed her deeper as my dick surged against the cabinetry. Would there ever be a time when this woman didn’t get me hard as the fucking granite with a single kiss? I doubted it. “Tell me you still want this—you want me.”
Her pupils dilated as she tugged my hair again lightly. “I want you.”
“I’m not a gentle man. What you saw—and felt—the first time we were together was me being exceptionally careful,” I warned her, knowing that if all she wanted was gentle and sweet, then I’d give her exactly that.
“And it was delicious.” Her voice lilted in a way that sounded like she was thanking me for dessert. “But I want whatever it was you were holding back. I want all of you, Cannon. You won’t break me. Let me prove that I’m strong enough for you.” She feathered her thumb over my lips, and I nipped at it.
“You have nothing to prove to me.”
She responded by jerking my shirt over my head. It landed in the mixing bowl, but I didn’t give a fuck. Not when her lips were at my neck, my throat, my chest. Her kisses were little flicks of fire to my nervous system that gathered in my cock.
Her hands skimmed my sides, feathered over my abs where they lingered when her touch made the muscles tense. “You are pure fantasy. It’s like you stepped out of my hottest dreams. You know that, right?”
“Then we must have the same damned dream because you sure as hell have starred in mine,” I growled, bringing her mouth back to mine. I kissed her with reckless abandon, not slowing to seduce her or gentling when she whimpered. Her hands reached for the waistband of my athletic shorts, and she tugged.
The fabric protested over the head of my dick for a second, then fell to the floor. I kicked off my shoes and peeled off my socks quickly.
Our mouths never parted as I flicked open the button of her shorts and yanked down her zipper. She lifted her hips, and I peeled her shorts off her ass, taking her panties with them down her thighs and past her knees, stepping back only long enough for her shorts to join mine.
My jersey and her bra went next, leaving her naked and hungry for me. Her fingers found my boxer briefs, and then she squeezed the length of my cock through the fabric.
“Fuck,” I hissed, leaning into her.
“Harder? Faster?” she asked as her hand slid up and down slowly.
“Goddamn, Persephone,” I growled.
“Teach me.” She ran her thumb over the exposed head where I rose above my waistband, then brought her thumb to her mouth and licked off a drop of pre-cum before reaching for my cock again.