The Room Mate (Roommates #1)(42)

When Allie came back, she announced that Cannon was drunk and would be down to eat later. It wasn’t like him to drink heavily, and the pizza I’d just consumed sat like a stone in my stomach.

As far as him coming downstairs, I never got to see that happen. I cleaned up the kitchen and left about thirty minutes later for home.

? ? ?

It was just after midnight when I heard the key turn in the lock. Sleep had eluded me. Even though my body was tired, my mind had continued to race.

I sat upright in bed. Cannon was home.

My heart rate picked up speed as he moved around the house. When he kicked off his shoes at the front door and moved toward the hall, I followed the less-than-graceful sounds of his footsteps. Then there was a loud thunk, followed by him cursing under his breath. Maybe he’d stubbed his toe? I almost giggled, but then the shadow of his tall form was filling my door frame.

“Paige?” He wasn’t quiet, clearly wasn’t afraid of waking me. There was a rough edge of need to his voice, and it called to something inside me. My chest tightened violently.

Cannon blinked as if his eyes were adjusting to the darkness, then stepped inside my room. I expected him to ask to join me like he had the other night, when we’d fallen asleep, seeking solace in each other’s arms. My first clue that this was not going to resemble that was when Cannon crossed the room and leaned over the foot of my bed, grasping my ankles to tug me down the bed.

“Paige.” He said my name again, his voice breaking.

“Yes?” I whispered.

“I need you.” The plea was so simple, and yet so visceral.

“Yes.” I moaned as his hands slid up my bare legs.

I’d gone to bed dressed in an oversized T-shirt and a pair of panties. And in about three seconds flat, he had stripped me of those. Then his hot mouth fused over mine, kissing me deeply. He tasted of whiskey and desire.

“Are you drunk?” I asked, panting as I pulled away.

“Might be. Just a little. But not so much that I can’t make you feel good.”

He nuzzled against my neck, leaving wet kisses on my throat, and desire surged through me.

“That okay, princess?”

“Yes.” I gasped, willing to agree to anything in that moment. I just didn’t want him to stop.

Cannon stripped out of his clothes, shedding them beside my bed, and then he moved over me, entering me with a soft sigh on his lips, muttering how perfect I felt.

Mixed emotions competed inside me. I wanted this, wanted him, but I wanted it to mean more than a quick midnight fuck to relieve stress. I wanted to wake up next to him, make breakfast together, kiss his perfect lips before I left for work, and share a glass of wine together in the evenings.

A tiny piece of me still held out hope, but most of me had resigned myself to the fact that I’d gotten myself into this situation—Cannon’s secret fuck buddy. I wanted to be more than a warm, wet hole, and at the thought, I started to get angry. Angry that he’d shown up drunk looking for sex, angry at the lack of foreplay.

Cannon lifted my bent knee, tucking my leg up beside my ribs so he could get even closer, thrust deeper than ever before. This side of Cannon was new—he wasn’t the gentle, attentive, playful lover whispering dirty things while he watched for my reactions. He was taking, pushing me further, fucking me harder.

“Are you going to come for me?” he whispered against my neck, his hips pummeling mine.

I buried my face against his throat and nodded.

“I love you, princess. Always have. Always will. I fought it for the longest time. But now that I’ve had you like this, I can’t go back. Won’t.”

I sobbed against his throat as his hips continued bucking against mine. “Cannon . . .” My cry was ragged and broken.

Every bit of anger melted away. It was replaced by a love so bright, it blinded me to everything else. We’d figure this out. We had to.

? ? ?

A noise in the living room woke me, and since I could feel the weight of Cannon’s hand resting across my waist, I knew he wasn’t the one stirring.

Blinking open sleepy eyes against the harsh light outside, I reached over to nudge Cannon’s shoulder and whispered, “I think Enchilada needs to go out.”

He grunted something unintelligible, and I could only smile. I felt the exact same way, overtired and completely sated. We’d stayed up half of the night making love, and I didn’t want to move. The first time was fast and rough, and I’d never forget Cannon whispering his love for me as he took me. The second time was slower, softer, and so meaningful. I had no idea what today held for us, but I knew we’d need to talk about what was going to happen next between us.

I stretched and noticed Enchilada lying beside the bed, still asleep. Then a voice in my living room called Cannon’s name, and I bolted upright in the bed.

Footsteps drew closer. Someone was in my house, and they were headed down the hall.

I tugged the sheet up to cover my breasts as Allie appeared in the doorway.

“What the fuck is this?” she shrieked.

Cannon’s eyes snapped open and he sat up in bed next to me, tugging the sheet up around his hips to conceal himself.

We had literally been caught red-handed. We were naked and in bed together—it didn’t get much worse than that.

Allie’s hands were shaking as she brought her fingers to her lips. “No.” She shook her head as if she wanted to wipe the image she was seeing from her brain. Her gaze locked on mine, and the hurt in her wild eyes was unlike any I’d ever seen. Her expression was more shocked and devastated than when she found out her fiancé was cheating on her.