Page 43 of Black Sheep
I shake my head, gripping the neck of the bottle. “It’s fine. It’s all ancient history now. It’s actually refreshing to be able to talk about it. I don’t get the chance often. Or rather, there aren’t many people who wouldn’t take that information and spread it around in a way that would come back and bite me in the ass.”
26
Drew
I’ve never felt guilt for lying before. Never felt guilt for ferreting out information that needs to come to light. But with Cannon Freeman, a man who may possibly have done unspeakable things, I feel the curling claws of regret digging into my belly when I think about what I can do with the information he’s sharing freely with me.
I want to open my mouth and tell him not to trust me. Tell him to stop talking about anything that matters or could hurt him.
But I can’t.
Because that would undoubtedly get me killed, and an untimely death isn’t in my plans for tonight.
So I do the only other thing that might allay my conscience. I share things with him that I have no business sharing.
“My father was my best friend. He was brilliant, but so humble. The reason I love working at the club is because sometimes I catch a hint of the cigars, and it reminds me of the ones he’d sit outside and smoke while my mother poured a bottle of vodka down her gullet.”
I lift my gaze to meet Cannon’s hazel eyes, wondering if he can see how bare and vulnerable that admission is from me.
“How did he die?” Cannon asks, and pain swipes through me like a hot knife through butter.
The question is a brutal reminder of why I’m here.
I hold out my glass. “I’m going to need a lot more bourbon for that.”
“Come and get it, because you look like I need to kiss you again.”
Instantly, the sadness enveloping me dissipates into a fluttering flock of butterflies trying to escape my chest.
How does he do this to me?Even though I wasn’t sure how to respond, my feet move across the planks of hardwood toward him, as if drawn by an eerie magnetic force.
Maybe that’s the explanation for all of this. I’m drawn to Cannon Freeman in a way I’ve never been drawn to another man before. My entire goal was to bring him down when I topple the Casso family empire, but now, I can’t help but hope that there’s a way I can save him from the aftermath if he’s innocent.
My instincts can’t be that wrong, can they? Cannon couldn’t have had anything to do with my father’s death.
Stop it. Now you’re talking crazy.
Even as my thoughts are being torn in opposite directions, I hear the click of my glass as I set it on the ledge of the window, and my body fits against Cannon’s like this is where I’ve always been meant to stand.
“I have so many questions for you,” he says in a husky tone. “But as much as I want answers, I want your mouth more.”
I meet his heated gaze with the knowledge that my barriers are falling and my instinct for self-preservation is fading much too quickly. “I want to tell you things I shouldn’t,” I whisper, my lips only a breath from his. “But I want you to kiss me more.”
In that moment, I give him a part of myself I haven’t given anyone else since my last conversation with my father—total honesty.
I don’t know who closes the distance, but our lips collide and arousal zips through me like a lightning bolt. I wrap my leg around his hip, and the hard bulge of his erection presses against me. I moan, hell, maybe I purr, as his hand cups my ass and pulls me closer to wedge his hips between theVof my legs.
His lips drop from my mouth to my throat as he uses his other hand to tug my hair backward—by my wig.
Fuck!
I jerk away, and Cannon stares at me like I’ve grown a second head.
Arousal circles the drain to be replaced by hard chips of ice in his eyes. My heart pounds in my throat, choking off my quick and easy explanations, and I stand here gaping at him like a fish out of water.
In a voice that demands the truth, Cannon grinds out, “Why are you wearing a wig and colored contacts? What the fuck else are you hiding?”
Stay cool. Act cool. Be cool.
