Or had she simply accepted the belief that tragedy had forever altered her?
Not wanting a blow-by-blow report on past lovers, he made up his mind to do his own experimenting with her. He’d discover what she liked and didn’t like, slowly, patiently, methodically, and in the process he’d win her over.
With that decided, he kissed her forehead, the bridge of her nose, down to her mouth. “Here’s what we’ll do.”
CHAPTER TEN
YVETTE LISTENED TO Cannon’s plans—plans that included staying with her, dating her, enjoying her; kissing and touching and making each other crazy.
But no sex.
She marveled that once again he’d surprised her.
“I don’t understand,” she said. “I thought you wanted...”
“Damn right. But I’m not a selfish person.”
“I already know that.”
“Then you should know that I don’t want to do things I’ll enjoy a hell of a lot more than you will.”
Did that mean he’d get his enjoyment elsewhere? With a woman who’d be less trouble?
“You like kissing me,” he said. “I think you’ll like me touching you, too, but not tonight. We’re both tired. We’ll ease into the touching.”
“You’re touching me now,” she felt compelled to point out.
His mouth lifted in a cocky smile. “No, I meant naked touching. On your br**sts and ni**les, your ass and between your legs.”
Her jaw loosened. Such blatant speaking...well, it spiked her temp and set her heart racing. “I, ah, see.”
The grin turned wolfish, and he brought his face close to hers so that she felt his warm breath when he whispered, “I promise you’ll love it when I touch you.”
She believed him. But... “Won’t that just frustrate us both?”
“Yeah.” His mouth moved over hers, his tongue touched, teased, withdrew. “It’s going to be like freshman year all over again.”
She’d spent her freshman year dying for him, and he’d barely noticed her. “You actually think that’s going to be enough?”
Another kiss, a little deeper, definitely hotter. He eased up, but only to her throat, where he murmured against her skin, “I like being with you.” Then he opened his mouth, sucked gently, made her toes curl tight.
“For...” Yvette swallowed. When Cannon did that—oh, and that—to her, it made talking difficult. She sank her fingers into his dark hair. “For how long?”
“I’ll let you know if I start to crack.” His damp mouth moved over her, leaving a tingling trail from her throat to her collarbone, to the sensitive hollow of her shoulder. “Do you always taste this good?”
She let her head drop back. “I don’t know.”
“I bet you do.” He took a gentle love bite of her shoulder muscle, making her gasp as he soothed it with his hot tongue. “I bet you’re this sweet all over.”
It took her a second to piece together what he’d said. Once she did, sensation spread out like a forest fire. “Cannon.”
“Yvette.” He kissed her chin, her nose and her mouth again. Standing, he caught her hands. “Know what I want to do?”
Her knees felt like noodles, and she held on to him for balance. “You haven’t been shy about telling me!”
Laughing, he hauled her up and over his shoulder, then started down the hall.
From her ignominious position, she watched the muscles shift in his tight tush. “Cannon!”
“Maybe a little touching,” he said as his hand moved over her behind.
The thin cotton material of her pajama pants did nothing to blunt the heat of his palm or his exploring fingertips, especially when he traced the outline of her thong panties.
“Nice,” he whispered, and he kissed her hip.
Bracing her hands against his back, Yvette said, “What are we doing?”
He veered into her bedroom. “Calling it a night, so don’t get excited.”
Too late. She’d gotten excited with his first kiss. “I see.” Disappointment welled up, but she kept it to herself.
One-handed he pulled back her comforter, deposited her gently against the sheets, then sat on the side of the mattress.
For a stunned moment she just lay there, but as he bent to untie his sneakers she scampered into a sitting position.
“Cannon?” she said again, this time with confusion.
Toeing off each shoe and pulling off his socks, he set them next to her nightstand. “I’m going to sleep with you, okay?” Not waiting for her to deny him, he reached back and pulled his shirt up and over his head. He dropped it over a chair.
Yvette stared. As a fighter, he was so physically fit and downright perfect that it was no wonder a slow burn started in her belly.
Especially when his hands went to the fly of his jeans.
She felt like she should have done something—moved, spoke. Encouraged.
All she managed was some heavy breathing.
Shoving his jeans down, but leaving on his dark blue boxers, he smiled at her. “Just sleeping.”
Right. There’d be no “just” to it, not with a man like Cannon.
She was still sitting there speechless when he said, “Scoot over.”
In his boxers.
All that gorgeous flesh showing. Those ripped muscles. And his scent...
She scooted.
He stretched out facing her, one arm behind his head, the other touching her face. “So how do you sleep?”