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)
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Cannon says, and to my surprise, stands from his stool and takes out his wallet. I watch as he retrieves two hundred-dollar bills and drops them on the table, which more than covers the drinks and appetizers, plus a hefty tip. When that’s done, he offers his hand to me, palm up. I take it, and he urges me up from my chair. “Let’s take a walk.”
It’s chilly outside and my wool coat is toasty, but that’s not what’s keeping me warm. Cannon tucked my hand into his elbow as we walked down the block, which is a good thing because I won’t be walking any straight lines tonight.
I’m not falling down drunk, but I am completely tipsy, so I don’t mind leaning against his large frame.
“Okay… lay the whole story on me,” he says.
I glance up at him, and he turns his head to look down at me. He towers over me by several inches. “This conversation turned very serious,” I muse.
Cannon shrugs. “I’m a diverse guy.”
That makes me laugh and puts me at ease, although I know the martinis are adding to it. “I was an HR generalist for a large life insurance company back in my hometown of Raleigh, North Carolina.”
“Oh God,” Cannon moans with exaggeration. “Please don’t tell me you’re a Cold Fury fan.”
Giggling, I squeeze his arm with my other hand. “While my family loves the Cold Fury, I’m not that into hockey to be honest.”
Cannon claps his hand over his heart. “You’re killing me.”
“But,” I drawl with a laugh, “I’ll be sure to start watching from now on.”
“That makes me happy. So you’re an HR generalist, which is what exactly?”
“My job was mainly to administer pay, benefits, and leave, as well as enforce policies and practices.”
“Gotcha.”
“And my ex, Derek, was a vice president in marketing.”
“Were you allowed to date within the company? Or was this an illicit affair?”
I snort over the insinuation. “Sorry to burst any scandalous bubbles, but we were allowed. He wasn’t working in a direct line of supervision over me.”
“And yet he had you fired,” Cannon points out.
“Yeah, must have been in the fine print,” I joke with a mirthless laugh. “At any rate, not long after we started dating, Derek got transferred to the company headquarters here in Pittsburgh. Got me a job transfer as well, and I moved in with him.”
“How long ago was that?”
“About nine months. My parents were against it. They felt that I was making myself too dependent on Derek and moving too fast. They’re kind of overprotective. Actually, they can be quite overbearing, but it’s from a place of love. The rest of the story isn’t all that complex. I found out he’s a cliché—cheating with his secretary—I confronted him about it, he said mean things, and it was over.”
“And he got you fired,” Cannon says, disgust in his voice.
“And,” I say with exaggerated drama, “kicked me out of his house. Within a twenty-four-hour period, I found out my boyfriend was cheating on me because he thought I was horrible in bed, got me fired, and rendered me homeless.”
“Jesus fuck,” Cannon growls, and then my head is spinning, not from the alcohol but because he stops right in the middle of the sidewalk and kisses me.
His chilled hands frame my face, but I’m burning hot from the intensity that crackles between us. It’s not a consoling kiss, brought on by sympathy and a need to redirect me.
The kiss is instantly carnal, and the way his tongue swirls with mine there’s no doubt that this has everything to do with sexual attraction.
No sooner has the kiss started than Cannon pulls back. His eyes bore into mine. “Do I need to apologize for that?”
He’s rendered me mute, but I shake my head, still caught between his hands.
It’s apparently all he needs because his mouth crashes onto mine again.
Cannon’s tongue dominates as his hands dive into my hair. I groan from the onslaught, my hands gripping his lightweight sweater beneath his open coat. I’m overcome with lust because of his dominance, his skillful tongue, and the surety in what he’s doing.
I’m fueled by alcohol, so I respond to the kiss, dropping one hand to the waistband of his jeans. I dip only my fingertips inside and use the leverage to haul myself flush against him.
Cannon issues a harsh curse into my mouth when our bodies make contact, spins us around, and backs me into the brick wall of a pharmacy. He walks his body right into mine so I can feel every hard—and I mean hard—angle of his body.
Tearing his mouth from mine, Cannon stares down at me, his breath coming out in harsh bursts. “Not sure I’d be kissing you like this without the alcohol. I’m usually a lot more reserved on first dates.”
“I probably wouldn’t have let you kiss me like this without the alcohol,” I admit, moving my hips against his. “But I know I’m not drunk enough to regret it tomorrow.”