The Room Mate (Roommates #1)(41)

“Come with me,” he bit out.

His hand tightened around mine, tugging me along. Before I knew what I was doing, I was following him out the back door and into the dimly lit garage. It was quiet as all the voices inside the house faded into silence. Dust particles floated in the air in the swath of late-afternoon light pouring through the lone window.

We were alone for the first time in days, and Cannon didn’t waste a minute. He kissed me roughly, pushing his hands into my hair and fusing his mouth to mine. I staggered a step back, confused and reeling from his sudden onslaught, but Cannon didn’t let up, backing me up until my butt pressed against an old canvas-covered car.

I knew Bob had owned an auto repair shop, and I was sure this was one of his projects. It should have felt wrong to be here, using it as a prop in our depraved act, but strangely, it didn’t. Bob was outgoing and sociable. He loved cars, but he loved his wife even more. I had a strange sense of peace knowing that perhaps he’d be happy this old car would still be of use. Weird, I know, but that was how I justified to myself what was happening.

When Cannon’s hands skimmed up my thighs, under my skirt, I gasped into his mouth. “What are we doing?”

“I’m going to fuck you on the hood of this car, princess.” His tone left no room for negotiation.

Holy shit.

His fingers crawled up my skin, evoking chill bumps as they moved north, hooking into the sides of my panties. I’d worn a long-sleeved, knee-length black sweater dress today. It had seemed modest when I’d put it on this morning, but now I could see that it gave Cannon the easy access he was craving.

Cannon tugged my panties down my thighs until they fell freely past my knees, stopping on my suede ankle boots. My brain was still scrambling to catch up.

What had changed from when Cannon told me we were done? What could he possibly be thinking when his mom and sister were on the other side of a door not twenty feet away from where we stood? What in the fuck was happening?

I pulled a deep breath into my lungs.

“Paige?” Cannon asked, suddenly stopping.

“Not like this,” I murmured. “Not now. Not here.”

His knitted brow betrayed his confusion. “You don’t want this?”

Strange, considering he was the one who’d said we couldn’t do this anymore.

Just then the door to the house opened and Allie stuck her head out, her gaze landing on us. Thank God my legs were hidden behind the car, and she couldn’t see the panties resting at my feet. Thank God we weren’t kissing when the door opened.

“What’s going on?” she asked, taking a step out into the garage, her eyes narrowing as she appraised us.

Cannon’s hand came to rest against my lower back, as if he sensed my rising level of panic. The small gesture was meant to calm me, to keep me in place and prevent me from freaking out.

“We were just getting some air. We’ll be right in.” His tone was sure and steady.

A moment of tense silence followed, and my heart thundered in my chest.

Then Allie’s mouth lifted in an understanding smile. “Okay. See you in a minute.”

The moment the door closed, I sucked in a deep breath. Cannon dropped to one knee in front of me, sliding my panties back up my legs and securing them in place.

“I’m sorry,” he said simply as he rose to stand again before me.

I shook my head. “I said not here; I didn’t say not ever.” Part of me hated myself for caving, but the other part of me was giddy with the promise of having Cannon in my bed yet again.

He nodded once, looking almost relieved.

“Are you okay?” I asked. It had been a rocky couple of days, losing his first patient and then his stepfather, all within a matter of twenty-four hours.

Cannon stroked my cheek with his thumb. “I will be.”

“We better get back inside.”

He nodded and led the way to the door.

That was way too close a call. But nothing could have prepared me for what happened later.





Chapter Twenty-Three


Paige




After helping Allie and Susanne see all the guests out and clean up, we ordered a pizza, unable to stomach another casserole. The fridge was filled with the well-meaning intentions of friends and family, but we’d eaten nothing but broccoli-rice casserole and tuna noodle for two days straight. We needed a break, and as we sat huddled around the small round kitchen table, a large pie in front of us, a moment of calm settled around us.

“You all right, Mom?” Allie asked, wiping her hands on a paper towel.

Susanne nodded. “Yeah, sweetie. We’ll get through somehow, right?” She squeezed her daughter’s hand.

“We always do,” Allie agreed.

“Where’s Cannon?” Susanne asked. “He should eat while the food is still hot.”

I hadn’t seen him in hours—not since our encounter in the garage. For all I knew, he was avoiding me. Maybe he regretted how he’d acted; I wasn’t sure. I focused on the warm slice of pizza in front of me and tried to forget the rest.

Allie nodded. “I’ll go find him.” She marched upstairs while Susanne and I continued eating in silence.

Susanne’s doctor, a longtime friend of the family, had stopped by earlier with a package of antianxiety medication. It was a sample pack with only a few doses, and Susanne had taken one earlier with a glass of water. I knew it wasn’t the answer long term, but was happy to see that she seemed a little calmer now. She was resilient and strong. I believed she would undoubtedly find a way through this nightmare.