Page 34 of Black Sheep
I close my eyes for a second and successfully tamp down the waterworks. “Your laugh reminds me of someone. Someone I lost.” When I meet his gaze again, his fingers curl around the fist I didn’t realize I was clenching.
“I’m so sorry. That wasn’t my intention.”
I shake my head, trying to play it off, but Cannon’s serious expression tells me how badly I’m failing.
“It’s fine. I just ... I thought I’d never hear someone laugh like that again. It surprised me. I’m fine.”
Carefully, Cannon helps me up from my chair, and we’re standing a breath apart, in the middle of a restaurant with dozens of people looking at us.
This is no time to break down.
Injecting levity I don’t feel into my voice, I ask, “How about that halal?” Except, as soon as I say it, the maître d’ is at our table.
“Is something wrong, Mr. Freeman? Is the cuisine not to your liking? We can have something else prepared.”
Mortification washes over me, and I’m thankful for my thick layers of makeup to hide my blush as Cannon responds.
“It was great. Put it on Dom’s tab. Something else came up, and we’ve got to run.”
Cannon places his hand on the small of my back once more. I soak up the heat but tell myself I’m only so conscious of it because I’m trying to distract myself.Right.
“Of course, of course,” the maître d’ replies. “Whatever you need. Thank you for coming this evening. We will see you again soon.”
As soon as we’re out of the stuffy air of Per Se, I feel like I can finally breathe without the thousand-pound weight of my father’s memory bearing down on me, but my embarrassment is still alive and well.
That’s never happened before. Ever.In eight months, nothing and no one has dragged feelings like this out of me.So, why him? Why now?I wish I could ask my father for guidance, and I can’t help but wonder what he’d say.
“I’m so sorry. I should’ve just eaten the veal,” I blurt out as Cannon leads me toward the elevator.
“Don’t apologize. There was nothing in that restaurant I wanted to eat for dinner tonight.” He shoots me a sideways glance. “Except for you.”
I catch sight of my reflection in the stainless-steel doors, and my eyes are as round as saucers. Coughing on my shock, I let him lead me into the car.
“You okay?” Cannon asks, an unreadable gleam in his eyes.
I nod like a bobblehead, feeling claustrophobic in the small space alone with him.
When the doors open again at the next floor and a group of people shuffle into the elevator, I’m forced to step closer to Cannon. With his body only an inch from mine, he radiates heat like a furnace. It penetrates my dress, making me clench my legs together.“There was nothing in that restaurant I wanted to eat for dinner tonight, except for you.”
No. Stop thinking about that.But I can’t. I don’t want to. Because it’s the ultimate distraction from my gut punch of grief. I allow the image of him lifting me out of my seat and onto the table to spread my thighs and rip off my thong with his teeth before making a meal out ofmeto roll through my brain like frames of a perfectly filmed movie.
One of the men in the group shuffles his feet, and Cannon’s hand slides around my waist, pulling me back against his hard body and away from the antsy man.
The seductive scent of cedar, bergamot, and a hint of cigar smoke wraps around me like a blanket, and my nipples peak against the bodice of my dress.Hell. I can’t handle this. Not even a little.
I don’t know how I managed to avoid smelling him before, but now that I know he smells absolutely decadent, my body is out of control.
Wetness blooms between my legs, and I’m afraid I won’t last one more floor in this elevator without turning around to attack him.
As soon as the doors open and the group spills out into the lobby, Cannon’s hand drops from my belly and I rush forward, tripping over the slight gap in the floor.
Once again, he’s there. Strong arms wrap around me and keep me from smashing face-first into the marble.
“Careful. You’re going to give me the impression you’re running from me ... which will only make me want to chase you.”
Cannon turns me in his arms, and I stare at his mouth, wishing I didn’t have to hate him. Wishing this could be a real date and I didn’t have hidden motives. But I do, and I always will. He doesn’t even know my real name, and if I do my part right, he won’t know it until I testify against him in court.
As I pull away from his hold, he glances over my shoulder and a hard look crosses his face before he pins me with his hazel eyes.
