we talk.”
Trying to find her backbone, she straightened in the chair and put a hand to his chest—his hot, hard, naked chest—to lever him back a few inches. “You’re acting too familiar, Cannon.” She had to concentrate hard to keep her fingers from caressing. “Like we’re involved or something.”
The second she touched him, he went still, then his eyes narrowed and his jaw flexed. “We’ve been involved for over three long years.” Too serious, he covered her hand with his, keeping it trapped against his body. His chest hair tickled her palm and made breathing harder still. “It doesn’t matter how long it’s been or how far away you were. There’s something between us.”
Choking off a groan, she offered a compromise. “Tell you what.” Infusing a dose of reason into her tone, she said, “Get dressed while I shower and then we’ll—”
“Not happening.”
Why did he always have to sound so controlled and collected? “Does another fifteen minutes really matter?”
“Does since you’ve been avoiding me. Given half a chance, you might take off again.”
“Cannon...” She really, really needed him to back up enough to let her unclench. “You can’t expect me to do this with you naked!”
Finally he stepped away, glanced down at himself, then tightened both the towel and his mouth. “Everything is covered.”
“Actually...” Stop eating him with your eyes. “There’s still a whole lot of you showing.”
His mouth didn’t smile, but, damn it, she could tell he enjoyed her extreme reaction.
When he continued to watch her, she shifted her feet, tried crossing her arms, but there was no way to hide. “I am a miserable mess,” she muttered with embarrassment.
“No,” he asserted, “you aren’t.” He dragged a chair over close to her and seated himself.
In. A. Towel.
With his knees almost touching hers, he looked at her legs, at her snug shorts and her damp, fitted tank top. “If you want the truth—”
“I’m not sure I do,” she said in a hurry.
“I can’t stop picturing you without the shirt and shorts.”
His blunt admission left her blank. “Naked in running shoes?”
His mouth quirked. “Okay, you can maybe lose the shoes, too.” His focus now on her chest, he continued. “And you know, I’m betting that sports bra didn’t do enough to stop some sexy bouncing.”
“Cannon,” she groaned, raising her arms to wrap around herself.
He caught her wrists, keeping her still. “It bothers me, thinking about all the guys who probably saw you jogging by and immediately started imagining more.”
Her heart tried to punch out of her chest. “No one—”
“Because that’s what I’m doing.”
Though her mouth opened, nothing more came out. It took her three hard heartbeats before she thought to say, “Well, just stop it!”
“I’ll try.” Releasing her, he said softly, “If you’ll stay and talk to me.”
“But...”
“It won’t take long.”
“Neither would my shower,” she grumbled, starting to feel put out by his pushy manner.
“Maybe. But with the way you keep dodging me, I don’t trust it.”
That made her eyes narrow. “You mean you don’t trust me.”
Shrugging, he rested his elbows on his thighs and let his hands hang loosely between his knees. “Close enough.”
The insult should have taken precedence, but for a second there it looked as if he might lose the towel, and that annihilated every other thought. She held her breath, but no, it stayed put.
“Yvette.”
“You are so badly bruised.” She wanted to touch him, to somehow make his ribs better. He’d taken a vicious kick in the fight and almost lost. But somehow he’d managed to throw that one last punch—which had been enough. “Does it hurt?”
“Not much, so don’t change the subject.”
When she took in his determined expression, it shook her. Never had she wanted him to see her as anything but self-assured, mature and poised. Her best bet now would be to get the talking over with so she could go make herself presentable. “All right. Let’s hear it.”
Instead of launching into his all-important talk, he breathed deeper, zeroed in on her mouth and whispered, “First things first.”
Yvette had no idea what he meant by that—until he came forward and put his mouth right to hers. Barely there. Lightly touching. Tentative.
She froze, her breath suspended and her body taut. Only her heartbeat seemed to function as it leaped into overtime.
When he didn’t pull away, her eyes sank shut. Sharing breath with him, drowning beneath a rush of intimacy, she made a small sound.
He reciprocated by touching his tongue against her, moving softly over her lips, tracing the seam where she held them closed.
In a dark, husky voice, he whispered, “Open up for me, honey.”
The sexy command made her gasp—which was just the opportunity he wanted.
Still going slow and easy, he teased his way in as if savoring the experience.
She forgot she was a wreck, forgot this could lead nowhere, forgot...everything.
With a soft growl, he adjusted for a better fit. His mouth nudged hers open more. One of his hands caught her ponytail, tilting her head back. The other opened on the small of her back, urging her to the edge of the seat. He brought her into the solid cradle of his big body, surrounding her in so many ways. Without deliberate decision, she slipped her hands up to his shoulders, and, oh, God, he felt incredible, as good as she’d always imagined.
Every nerve ending jumped in awareness.
It had been so long since she’d been kissed, especially since she’d been kissed like this.
The last time was three years ago—with Cannon.
She forgot about her appalling state of sweat and wrinkled clothes, the wind-tangled ponytail he held.
He sank his tongue in, tasting her deeper, hotter. His hand left her back to settle boldly on her bare thigh just above her knee, his strong fingers wrapping around her, encircling her leg.
When he slid that hand upward to the edge of her shorts, she finally regained her wits.
She
