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-fashioned 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 sunshine poured over her, making her fair skin golden and showing reddish highlights in her dark hair. She wore only a shirt, 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 shirt, he guessed she’d left the panties behind, too.
Fuck the jog. A triathlon wouldn’t diminish the lust-inspired need twisting through him.
Looking at her body, he headed back up the walk. “Morning.”
Her bare feet shifted. “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**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 embarrassment. 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 embarrassed, 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 passersby, he agreed. “Always.”
She shifted 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. Damn, he was on the ragged edge again. If she touched him just once, he’d go off like a Fourth of July celebration.
Since she was still fussing with the hem of the shirt, he took her hands in his and tried to sound reasonable instead of turned on. “What’s on your mind, honey?”
In a sudden rush, she blurted, “I hope you believe me. I mean, you made it seem so easy that now I’m kind of embarrassed for making such a big deal of it.” She breathed faster, her hands squeezing his. “But I swear, until last night, I couldn’t... I hadn’t...”
“We’re good together,” he told her with satisfaction. And he knew, even if she didn’t, that once he got inside her it would be nothing short of mind-blowing.
“No.” She shook her head. “It was you.”
“It was us.”
“But I didn’t do anything!” And with accusation, “You wouldn’t let me.”
He absolutely could not think about her reciprocating right now, not if he wanted to maintain any semblance of control. “I helped you along, true. It’s called foreplay, and I loved it. But there was never anything wrong with you.”
Pulling away, she hugged her arms around herself. “But don’t you see, there was. Is. I...I don’t know.” She pivoted back to him. “I don’t want you to think I exaggerated.”
Now he was really lost. “What?”
“Don’t think that I was somehow using my—” she searched for a word “—my issues, to use you. That I was only telling you things to get pity or to coerce you.”
She thought he’d accuse her of making it up? “Yvette—”
“It’s not a secret that I always wanted you,” she continued in a rush. “Back then, back before—” she swallowed “—before what happened, I’d have done a lot to get your attention.”
He reached for her, but she sidestepped him. “I wouldn’t use the sympathy card, though, I swear. I would never make up something so pathetic or—”
“Stop it.” Pushed too far, Cannon caught her shoulders and brought her around. “You think I’d accuse you of that?”
Her eyebrows lifted at his anger. “I don’t know.”
“Well, I wouldn’t. Jesus, Yvette, I’m not an idiot.”
“I never said—”
He kissed her, but only for a second because, damn it, he had a lot to say. “And you’re not that manipulative.”
Breath left her in a sigh and she touched his bare chest. “You can’t know that, Cannon, because you don’t really know me. You never did, but now, after so long, well, I’ve barely been home a week, so how could you?”
She was wrong. On some elemental level, he’d always known her. “I know women.” Kissing her again, he backed her up to the wall, leaned into her and continued kissing her until her hands were clutching his shoulders and her mouth was moving under his, just as hungry.