No Limits
Page 50
It was as she was opening boxes in the garage that she noticed the new folding ladder on the garage ceiling. Huh. She didn’t remember ever seeing it before. A rope hung from the ladder, presumably to pull it down and give access to the garage attic. But she couldn’t reach it.
She was standing there, staring up at it, when her phone rang. Again it was Heath.
Tired of the games, Yvette snatched up the phone and said by way of greeting, “What?”
Silence greeted her.
Fine. He wanted to pout? He could do it alone. “I’m hanging up now.”
“No.” Heath’s voice, raw with appeal, called out to her. “Don’t.”
“You have to stop calling me, Heath.”
“I can’t.”
His ragged breathing stole some of her anger. She had dated this man for months, she’d been as intimate with him as she was capable of being, so some level of compassion remained. “Are you okay?”
“Come home, Yvette.”
Her shoulders sagged—in relief. Obviously he hadn’t left California as he’d claimed, or he wouldn’t want her to return there. She knew the nicest thing she could do for him was to make him understand that things were over. Gently, but with firm insistence, she said, “I can’t.”
Defeat left his tone, replaced with a surprising explosion of rage. “Or you won’t?”
She was so tired of his anger, of his mood swinging from adoration to loathing. “Both. But, Heath, it doesn’t matter.” As calmly as she could, she laid it out for him. “Even if I was there, we weren’t together anymore. We’ll never be together again. Please believe me. It’s over.”
A chilling laugh sounded through the phone. “You can be such a f**king bitch sometimes.”
“Heath—”
“Does your new boyfriend know that? Does he know what a lousy lay you are? Does he realize your heart is so f**king frozen that all you do is lie there and—”
Breathing hard, her compassion blown, Yvette disconnected the call. Shaking all over, she badly wanted to throw the phone, but what good would that do?
“What is it?”
At the sound of Cannon’s voice, she screeched and jumped a foot. When she whipped around, Cannon stood there in the open garage door, his gaze far too astute.
“Dear God, you startled me.”
He didn’t move toward her. “That was Heath?”
Expelling a big breath, she nodded. “Yes. He was...unhappy.” She almost snorted at herself. Such an understatement.
“How many people have your number?”
“Not many. You. Vanity.” She made a face. “Heath.”
“Let’s get you a new phone and a new number.”
Since he didn’t come to her, she felt uncertain of his mood. Always, every single time, Cannon greeted her with soft kisses and smiles.
“I can just block him.”
Suspicion brightened his blue eyes. “Then why haven’t you?”
“He wasn’t that nasty before.”
“And you feel sorry for him?”
More like guilty—but not anymore. Sweat gathered between her br**sts and at the small of her back. Loose hairs from her braid stuck to her temples.
Cannon was in much the same shape, his T-shirt sticking to his skin in several places, his glossy dark hair damp with sweat.
Setting the phone aside, Yvette plucked at her shirt, letting some air underneath. “Did you jog in this heat?”
His attention sharpened as he looked her over. “No.” He peeled off his shirt and used it to swipe over his chest. “I usually shower at the rec center, but it was packed today, so I figured I’d shower here instead.”
Despite Heath’s recent attack, a smile tugged at her mouth. “More guys are showing up because you’re there.”
“Yeah.” He strode closer, his gaze locked with hers. “Armie says I’m good for business. I think he signed up ten new guys today alone.”
From what she understood, the more MMA devotees who signed up, the more programs they could offer to the at-risk kids in the neighborhood.
“That’s nice.”
Focused on her, he got closer.
She tried to pull her gaze away but couldn’t. “Cannon...”
He stopped in front of her, looking all over her, especially at where her shirt stuck to her br**sts. “It’s hot as hell in here.”
Staring up at him, suddenly breathless, she whispered, “No air circulation.”
With a touch of awe, Cannon trailed his rough fingertips down her throat, back and forth over her upper chest, then teased down into her cle**age. “How can you look so f**king sexy even now?”
He rarely cursed in front of her, and hearing it now with that particular rasp in his voice shook her. “I don’t. I’m a mess.”
“No.” He bent to open his mouth on her throat, his lips lingering against her heated, damp skin. One hand opened on her waist, then slowly, so damn slowly, moved under her shirt and up, until he covered her breast.
They both went still, Yvette breathing heavily, Cannon growling softly.
Sweltering hot, humid air hung heavily around them. Outside the garage, a bird chirped. Somewhere nearby a car door closed.
With his face still against her throat, Cannon moved his thumb up and over her nipple.
“Hope I’m not intruding,” said an amused female voice.
Yvette tried to jerk away, but Cannon held her still for a heartbeat, then turned, tucking her behind him.
She was standing there, staring up at it, when her phone rang. Again it was Heath.
Tired of the games, Yvette snatched up the phone and said by way of greeting, “What?”
Silence greeted her.
Fine. He wanted to pout? He could do it alone. “I’m hanging up now.”
“No.” Heath’s voice, raw with appeal, called out to her. “Don’t.”
“You have to stop calling me, Heath.”
“I can’t.”
His ragged breathing stole some of her anger. She had dated this man for months, she’d been as intimate with him as she was capable of being, so some level of compassion remained. “Are you okay?”
“Come home, Yvette.”
Her shoulders sagged—in relief. Obviously he hadn’t left California as he’d claimed, or he wouldn’t want her to return there. She knew the nicest thing she could do for him was to make him understand that things were over. Gently, but with firm insistence, she said, “I can’t.”
Defeat left his tone, replaced with a surprising explosion of rage. “Or you won’t?”
She was so tired of his anger, of his mood swinging from adoration to loathing. “Both. But, Heath, it doesn’t matter.” As calmly as she could, she laid it out for him. “Even if I was there, we weren’t together anymore. We’ll never be together again. Please believe me. It’s over.”
A chilling laugh sounded through the phone. “You can be such a f**king bitch sometimes.”
“Heath—”
“Does your new boyfriend know that? Does he know what a lousy lay you are? Does he realize your heart is so f**king frozen that all you do is lie there and—”
Breathing hard, her compassion blown, Yvette disconnected the call. Shaking all over, she badly wanted to throw the phone, but what good would that do?
“What is it?”
At the sound of Cannon’s voice, she screeched and jumped a foot. When she whipped around, Cannon stood there in the open garage door, his gaze far too astute.
“Dear God, you startled me.”
He didn’t move toward her. “That was Heath?”
Expelling a big breath, she nodded. “Yes. He was...unhappy.” She almost snorted at herself. Such an understatement.
“How many people have your number?”
“Not many. You. Vanity.” She made a face. “Heath.”
“Let’s get you a new phone and a new number.”
Since he didn’t come to her, she felt uncertain of his mood. Always, every single time, Cannon greeted her with soft kisses and smiles.
“I can just block him.”
Suspicion brightened his blue eyes. “Then why haven’t you?”
“He wasn’t that nasty before.”
“And you feel sorry for him?”
More like guilty—but not anymore. Sweat gathered between her br**sts and at the small of her back. Loose hairs from her braid stuck to her temples.
Cannon was in much the same shape, his T-shirt sticking to his skin in several places, his glossy dark hair damp with sweat.
Setting the phone aside, Yvette plucked at her shirt, letting some air underneath. “Did you jog in this heat?”
His attention sharpened as he looked her over. “No.” He peeled off his shirt and used it to swipe over his chest. “I usually shower at the rec center, but it was packed today, so I figured I’d shower here instead.”
Despite Heath’s recent attack, a smile tugged at her mouth. “More guys are showing up because you’re there.”
“Yeah.” He strode closer, his gaze locked with hers. “Armie says I’m good for business. I think he signed up ten new guys today alone.”
From what she understood, the more MMA devotees who signed up, the more programs they could offer to the at-risk kids in the neighborhood.
“That’s nice.”
Focused on her, he got closer.
She tried to pull her gaze away but couldn’t. “Cannon...”
He stopped in front of her, looking all over her, especially at where her shirt stuck to her br**sts. “It’s hot as hell in here.”
Staring up at him, suddenly breathless, she whispered, “No air circulation.”
With a touch of awe, Cannon trailed his rough fingertips down her throat, back and forth over her upper chest, then teased down into her cle**age. “How can you look so f**king sexy even now?”
He rarely cursed in front of her, and hearing it now with that particular rasp in his voice shook her. “I don’t. I’m a mess.”
“No.” He bent to open his mouth on her throat, his lips lingering against her heated, damp skin. One hand opened on her waist, then slowly, so damn slowly, moved under her shirt and up, until he covered her breast.
They both went still, Yvette breathing heavily, Cannon growling softly.
Sweltering hot, humid air hung heavily around them. Outside the garage, a bird chirped. Somewhere nearby a car door closed.
With his face still against her throat, Cannon moved his thumb up and over her nipple.
“Hope I’m not intruding,” said an amused female voice.
Yvette tried to jerk away, but Cannon held her still for a heartbeat, then turned, tucking her behind him.
