Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 83461 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83461 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
I immediately explode, screaming out and latching my arms around his neck to hold on. Cannon fucks me hard, exactly what I’d asked for earlier, but he gave me the best of both worlds.
“You feel so fucking good,” he mutters as he rams deep.
Cannon comes with a guttural groan of satisfaction, grinding down onto my pelvis while uttering curse words in my ear. He collapses on top of me, brushes his mouth across mine, and then rolls over onto his back.
We look at each other, grinning even as our chests heave in search of oxygen.
“Was that good?” he asks with a smirk.
I shrug. “It was okay. Maybe we can try to do better later.”
Cannon laughs and rolls toward me. “You’re rotten.”
He bends down to kiss me, but I stop with a hand to his chest. “It was beyond unbelievable. Every single time, you take me higher.”
Those are probably the most serious words I’ve said to him. I’ve been so damn careful to stay a little detached, either because I know he’s not wanting something deep or I’m afraid of getting hurt again.
I’m completely surprised by this moment of truth.
Cannon stares at me for a long moment, and I don’t know what he thinks about my proclamation. But his eyes are soft and tender, so I have to think he’s not put off. I can see him collecting his thoughts, and I hold my breath in anticipation of what he’ll say.
Unfortunately, his phone rings, breaking the spell between us, and he exits the bed. “Sorry. Let me see who that is.”
I roll to my side and rest my head in the palm of my hand to watch him as he digs through his pants to find his phone. He looks at the caller and frowns. Then he sighs and scrubs his hands through his hair.
His eyes come to me. “I’m sorry… I’ve got to take this.”
His voice is weary and sounds a little like he expects the world to fall apart at any moment.
“You want me to leave?” I ask hesitantly.
“No,” he says and turns to sit on the edge of the bed with his back to me.
“Hey, Connie,” he says softly. He’s silent for a moment and then says, “Yeah… I’ve got a few minutes.”
I want to reach out to stroke his back, but I’m feeling all kinds of awkward because I’m clearly listening in on a heavy conversation. I don’t know who Connie is, but by the tone of his voice, I can tell she’s someone Cannon cares about.
I can also tell he doesn’t necessarily want to talk to her.
I slide out of bed so I can put my clothes back on. I have my panties in hand when his tone turns harsh. “Of course, I haven’t forgotten what tomorrow is. How could you even say that?”
CHAPTER 18
Cannon
Connie sniffles meekly, but her voice is accusatory. “I haven’t heard from you in several days. It’s like you’ve forgotten all about her.”
I rub at the back of my neck, tightening with tension, which you would think impossible as I had an incredibly forceful orgasm just minutes ago. Movement from the corner of my eye catches my attention, and I see Ava picking up her clothes and tiptoeing into the bathroom. I told her she didn’t need to leave, but I’m kind of glad she did.
Connie is a part of my life I’m not even sure how to explain to Ava.
“Connie…,” I murmur with conciliation.
“Tomorrow is the nine-year anniversary of Melissa’s death. I feel like nobody remembers it but me. Andrew scheduled a work trip, so he’s gone, and you’re the only one I have who understands this pain. You’re the only one I know who has as big a hole in their heart as I do.”
Her words shred me from the inside out, guilt seeping out of those wounds. I don’t have the same hole she does, and sometimes I hate myself for it. It weighs heavily on me that I don’t allow myself to suffer the way she does.
Normally, I would reassure her at this point that I am still grieving, although I’m very careful to never say how deep it is because our depths are vastly different. My grief has become faint over the years, while hers has intensified. Nine years is a long time to hold on to something without any chance of ever getting it back and I don’t know how to let her know that.
“I’m really sorry, Connie. But it’s game day, and you know my time is limited. I’ll call you tomorrow. I promise.”
“I can’t believe you won’t spare five fucking minutes for your mother-in-law,” Connie yells.
I’m so taken aback by her abrupt change in behavior—and because I’ve never heard her yell or curse before—I wince and hold the phone away from my ear, fearful of what might come next.