Ultimate: No Limits Part 23

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

o f all the... More than a little furious at being dismissed, Yvette went through the interior door into the house, but resisted the urge to slam it shut. She didn't want Mindi to know she was bothered.

Choosing not to wait for Cannon to finish his private talk, she went into her bedroom, locked the door, then into the bathroom for a cool shower.

He could talk to Mindi for as long as he wanted. She didn't care.

Or rather, she didn't want to care. d.a.m.n it.

Knowing she'd never look as elegant as Mindi, she didn't even try. After drying off, she put on lotion, took her long hair out of the braid and dressed in an oversize logo T-shirt and cutoff shorts.

When she left her room, she found Cannon in the kitchen cooking, also freshly showered and dressed in shorts and a T-shirt. They were both barefoot. But that was where the similarities ended.

Unlike her shirt that fell loose around her body, his fit his muscled torso to perfection.

Whereas her cutoffs resembled Daisy Dukes, his cargo shorts went down to his knees.

With the braid out, her hair hung in long ripples. He'd finger combed his wet, inky black hair, leaving it rumpled.

Given how smooth his jaw looked, he might have shaved.

As he chopped an onion, she watched the movement of muscles in his back and shoulders. It was seriously unfair that any man could look so good.

"Come on in," he said. "I'll have dinner ready in a few minutes."

Yvette headed to the fridge for a cola, but when she saw his big icy pitcher of sugarless tea, she chose that instead.

His good habits were contagious.

"Pour me one, too, will you?"

"Sure." Trying for a note of diplomacy, she asked, "So. What did you and Mindi have to talk about?"

"Told her I had to renege on her rain check, that's all." He used the edge of the butcher knife to push the onions off the cutting board and into a hot skillet with olive oil.

"Uh-huh." Giving herself a minute to think, she poured the tea, set his beside him and took a long drink of her own. "A rain check for what, exactly?" He'd told her he wouldn't see anyone else, so unless they had some important business to discuss that- "s.e.x."

Choking, she put the back of her hand to her mouth and wheezed for air.

Cannon glanced her way. "You okay?"

Nodding hard, she gestured for him to continue.

"She hit on me at Whitaker's office when I first got home."

Finally able to get a strangled breath, she rasped, "At the lawyer's office?"

"Yeah. Whitaker had to take off for court, we were alone, she was interested and didn't mind saying so." He hitched one shoulder in disinterest. "I gave her a rain check, though, because, well, you know, I was pretty banged up, and the idea of Tipton leaving me half his stuff really threw me off stride. Then I met up with you again and..." His gaze dipped over her, sticking a moment on her thighs. "Not interested in Mindi."

Swelling with umbrage, Yvette plunked her gla.s.s down onto the table. "She's still interested."

He flashed her a grin. "Yeah, I know. She said so. Got all grabby and stuff right out there on the sidewalk."

Both hurt and furious, Yvette stared at him. Pride took over. "I hope you didn't turn her down on my account."

"You know I did."

Fighting herself more than Cannon, she said, "I told you I couldn't-"

"I remember what you said." He began to dice a tomato. "You offered to accommodate me."

Did he want her to do that? Now? And if so, why'd he sound so curt when bringing it up?

Her heart felt too heavy to stay in her chest. "Yes. But that was nearly a week ago."

"You've changed your mind?"

Resenting that she had to offer again, she lifted her chin. "No."

"Good, because I only want you."

Then why was he still waiting? "You're sure about that?"

He laughed. "Positive. So why would I mess around with Mindi?"

Maybe because Mindi didn't have any hang-ups?

"I wouldn't," he said, answering his own question. "But apparently she hasn't caught on to that yet, so now seemed like a good time to clear things up. I didn't see any reason to be cruel about it, especially after I let her think I might be willing. Before you."

"So you explained it to her?"

He nodded. "She understands now."

Yeah, sure she did.

The silence stretched out until Yvette felt compelled to say something. "What can I do to help?"

"With Mindi? I took care of it."

She gnashed her teeth. "With dinner."

Barely suppressing his humor, Cannon quirked a smile. "Oh, right. Gotcha."

d.a.m.n it. It was too hot to cook and she was in no mood to be teased. "Forget it." She put her empty gla.s.s in the sink and would have walked out, but Cannon forestalled her temper by wrapping those strong arms around her and trapping her against the counter.

"You're killing me, you know that, right? These shorts... You could be lethal."

He pressed his hips in against her denim-covered behind.

"I want you nonstop. Only you." He nuzzled against the side of her neck, effectively melting her anger, if not her hurt. "Even when you're confused about things." A damp kiss. "Or jealous?"

"Cannon." Her willpower waned, but she got out the protest. "I'm mad."

"Don't be." He teased his nose behind her ear. "d.a.m.n, you always smell so good, even earlier when you were sweaty."

It took so little for him to turn her on. "I do not."

"I want to breathe you in all over."

Before she could get too excited over that, he gave her one of his gentle love bites on her shoulder muscle.

As usual, her toes curled and her belly did a somersault.

As if he knew, he opened a firm hand over her stomach, above the waistband of the hip-hugging shorts. Through the cotton of the T-shirt, she felt the heat of his palm. "Know what I want to do?"

She had an idea, but still asked, "What?"

"First I want to kiss away your mad, or your confusion or jealousy or whatever it is you're feeling."

All of the above, actually, and yes, him kissing it away seemed like a terrific idea. Eyes closed, she sighed. "And second?"

"I want to enjoy dinner with you."

Her eyes popped open again. She had been expecting something altogether different from him. "Dinner. Really? Oookay."

Smiling against her sensitive neck, he added, "And then..." His hand crept back up to her breast, this time outside her T-shirt. While cuddling and stroking, he said in a hushed, husky whisper, "I want to touch you some more. Like this, but without your shirt in the way."

The soft groan came of its own volition.

"Those itty-bitty shorts have me fantasizing all kinds of things."

Glad that he liked her shorts-because she knew she'd worn them specifically to get his mind back on her-she pressed back into him.

"Yeah. Like that."

His hand was big, hard, hot, and the way his palm rasped over her stiffened nipple made breathing difficult. "You want me to touch you, don't you?"

"I do, but-"

"Say you do, Yvette."

To encourage the right answer, he caught her nipple, tugging gently, rolling, so that her "Yes" came out as a quivering moan.

"There you go." His hand went down to her thigh. "It's going to be really easy to get under the frayed hem of these barely there shorts." To prove his point, he edged his rough fingertips along her upper thigh, higher and higher until he slipped under the fringe- "Cannon..." She wanted him, so much, but she didn't want to leave him disappointed when things didn't go as he hoped. "I'm not sure-"

"Just touching." Pulling her around to face him, Cannon took her mouth in a consuming kiss. One hand tangled in her hair, the other opened wide on her backside to keep her pressed tight to him. Against her mouth, he said, "I can handle it if you can."

It took two shuddering breaths before she was capable of answering. "Okay."

Satisfaction, and something more, grew bright in his mesmerizing gaze. She stared up at him, knowing it'd be agony to have his hands on her without ever actually reaching release. She wasn't at all certain she could bear it, but denying him-or herself-would only be worse.

At the interruption of a ringing phone, Yvette realized she'd left her cell out in the garage. She was both relieved at the delay and frustrated that she couldn't discover where the moment would lead.

When she stood there, Cannon brushed the backs of his knuckles over her cheek. "Want me to get it?"

She wanted him to go on touching and teasing her.

"No." She smoothed her hand over his chest, down his impressive abs, then got her feet moving even though her legs felt weak and she a.s.sumed it'd just be Heath pestering her again. "I'll be right back."

"Okay. I'll finish up our dinner."

Heated from the inside out, Yvette wondered at Cannon's new plan, and whether or not his detachment was part of that plan, or if he could really do this and remain so unaffected.

Because she couldn't.

Just as she reached the garage, the phone stopped ringing. Of course it was Heath again. His message went to voice mail. She listened to him rant about loving her while also cursing her for not loving him back. Relieved that he was on the opposite coast, she deleted the vile message and blocked his number.

Cannon had closed and locked the garage door so her packages were secure. Before she started going through everything again, she'd wrestle open the dusty window adjacent from the interior door so that the air could move a little. Maybe then it wouldn't be so bad.

She might also figure out how to pull down that ladder so she could check out the storage s.p.a.ce up over the ceiling.

She got back in the kitchen in time to see Cannon drop angel-hair pasta atop the onions and olive oil, stir it all up and add fresh Parmesan cheese.

It smelled heavenly.

He watched her put her phone on the counter. "Heath again?"

No reason to bore him with the ugly details. "Yes, but I blocked him." Getting out plates and refilling their gla.s.ses, she set the table. And even that, the simple act of two place settings instead of one, filled her with emotion.

Taking her by surprise, Cannon stroked her backside, murmured, "Irresistible," then stepped around her to load up the plates. "What are you thinking about so seriously?"

Still on high alert from that casual caress and incredible compliment, she smiled at him. "I haven't done this since I moved away." She indicated the table. "Sitting down with someone for a home-cooked meal night after night."

He put diced tomatoes over the pasta. "Tipton was a good cook?"

"Country cooking." Very different from the healthy stuff Cannon preferred. "Most everything he fixed was a one-pot meal, with chicken and dumplings being his specialty."

A gentleman to the core, Cannon pulled out her chair. "He taught you to cook?"

"Yes." Yvette realized that having someone to talk to, especially about her grandpa, was as poignant as the cozy dinners together. "Stew, soup, sauerkraut and ribs, ham and cabbage." She grinned. "All stuff you don't eat."

"All stuff I love." He sat across from her, then stretched out his long legs so that his feet caged hers in. "Mom was a country cook, too. I took up running early in life just so she couldn't fatten me up."

"Bull." For as long as she'd known Cannon, he'd been a specimen. "I'm not believing that."