Cannon (Carolina Reapers 5)

“You’re always so concerned about my buttons.”

Her cheeks flushed pink, but she pushed that last one home. “Someone has to be.”

I cupped the nape of her neck and ran my thumb down her jaw, nearly sighing with relief when she leaned into my touch. How the fuck was I going to give her up?

Did I have to? I mean, we were already married, so the damage was really done. What would having a second ceremony hurt? What would happen if we decided to ride this out to whatever finish line we decided instead of one imposed on us? What if there was no finish line, and it was just us as we were right now, but for forever?

“You’re incredibly beautiful today,” I said softly.

She smiled, then rose up on her toes.

I leaned down and brushed my lips over hers. These were the lips I wanted to kiss for the rest of my life.

“Oh no, you don’t! You know the tradition. You’re supposed to be over there with Aunt Mildred!” Andromeda sang with a sugar-sweet smile, looping her arm through Persephone’s and pulling her away. “You can make out with your husband once he’s…you know, your husband again. Toodles!” She wiggled her fingers at us as she dragged my wife away.

“This family is weird,” Logan said under his breath.

“Amen to that.”

“You can dress like one of us all you want, but you’ll never be one of us,” Michael said, stepping forward now that Persephone was gone.

“Good. The last thing I want to be is one of you.” I rubbed my temples and prayed to the hangover Gods that my misery would end soon. I’d taken pain relievers and drank half my weight in water already. When was it going to end?

Michael scoffed as he looked toward the patio, following Persephone’s retreat. “God knows what she sees in you.”

“I’ll never quite figure that out, either, but I’m glad she sees whatever it is.”

He turned a hate-filled sneer on me. “She won’t see it for long. You know that, right? She’ll never be happy married to someone like you. She was born and bred for better.”

I ignored the direct hit to my worst fear. “Better like you?”

“Exactly,” he hissed quietly. “So you can enjoy whatever it is you’re doing with her, but just know that at the end of this—because it will end—she doesn’t wind up with you.”

I swallowed back the rising rage in my throat. The guy needed to be taught to keep his mouth shut, but I wasn’t about to be the one teaching that lesson during my rehearsal brunch. “In case you missed it, that’s my last name on her new driver’s license, and my ring on her finger.”

He snorted. “Well, enjoy that whole alpha mine mine mine thing for as long as it lasts. Just do me a favor and take it easy on her, would you?” His eyes took on a gleam that had my muscles tensing.

“Cannon,” Logan warned, seeing the signs.

“I’ll never hurt her, if that’s what you’re implying,” I snapped at Michael.

“Oh! No. You wouldn’t be stupid enough to end up behind bars like your old man,” he guffawed, shaking his head.

“Cannon, don’t,” Logan muttered.

I saw red.

“I mean take it easy in the bedroom.” He leaned in with a shit-eating grin like he was telling me a secret. “No doubt you’ve fucked her, but try not to stretch her out too much, would you? I’ve been waiting a long time to get in there, and—”

My fist connected with his face, and he flew backward.

“Oh shit,” Logan sighed.

I stalked the motherfucker as he tried to scramble away, fear lighting his eyes.

“Hey!” his douchey friend called, running over from the edge of the green.

I grabbed Michael by the green vest he prized so much and lifted him off his feet. “I swear to fucking God, if you ever talk about my wife like that again, I’ll do worse than punch you. I’ll fucking end you.”

“What is going on here?” Mr. VanDoren shouted, marching toward us.

“He attacked me!” Michael cried in outrage.

I dropped the sorry sack of shit on his ass. “Like hell I did. You don’t even want to know what he just said about my wife.”

Michael blinked in mock innocence. “What? That I warned you that you’re not good enough for her?”

“That is not how that went down,” Logan argued.

“I don’t give a shit. Look around you!” Mr. VanDoren hissed.

I peeled my eyes from Michael’s simpering little face to see that at least a dozen golf club members were staring at us, and two of them had their phones out.

Fuck, I was going to have to call my publicist.

“What happened?” Persephone asked as her gaze darted between Michael and me.

“He nearly killed me!” Michael stumbled to his feet. “I’ll have a black eye!”

“Oh, God, Cannon, did you—"

“Come with me right now,” Mr. VanDoren ordered. “Both of you.”