Oh. Well.
That changes everything.
I can’t stop squeezing Cannon’s arm, silently marveling at how warm he is, how incredibly solid he feels beneath my palm. I remember when he swooped me under his arm before we entered the restaurant, how hot and firm his body felt pressed next to mine.
A shiver moves through me at the memory.
The car is silent, save for the quietly playing radio and the windshield wipers squeaking against the glass. The Uber driver doesn’t say a word, too busy concentrating on the busy street and the rain, and I’m suddenly filled with the need to…oh, I don’t know. Throw myself at this giant man and see if he’ll catch me?
He’d catch me. I can pretty much guarantee it.
“Think it’ll rain tomorrow during the game?” he asks, his deep voice interrupting the quiet.
“Doubtful.” Nervous laughter escapes me and I clamp my lips shut when I realize how ridiculous I sound. “It seems to rain almost every evening lately, and since your game is in the afternoon, you should be fine, just a little cloudy. Besides, most of the time the rain is really just mist from low-hanging clouds. It’s always so dreary here, especially this time of year.”
“Kind of like San Francisco,” he muses.
“I hear it can get quite foggy there.” I release my hold on him and settle more comfortably in my seat, hyper aware of Cannon sitting next to me. So close, yet not quite touching. His body heat radiates, tempting me to snuggle closer, but I keep myself firmly planted.
“So you have your own place, huh?” he asks.
He seemed startled by my revelation, which in turn surprised me. I guess he thought I still lived at home? I moved out at the ripe age of nineteen, unable to take it anymore at my parents’ grand country estate. It’s a beautiful place, don’t get me wrong, and I have such fond memories of my childhood, but when you’re in your late teens yearning to break free and make it in the big city, well, you…
Get the hell away from that grand country estate and move yourself into a tiny, leaky flat in London.
“It’s nothing special,?
?? I tell him with a wave of my hand. “It’s very small. And you have to climb four flights of stairs to get to my front door.”
“Not a problem. I’m a guy who loves a challenge.” He grins, his teeth extra white in the dim light of the car. “I can handle a couple of flights of stairs.”
“Hoping to see my flat, hmm?” I’m teasing him, but…is he really hoping to see where I live?
Excitement makes my blood heat, and I mentally tell myself to calm down. There won’t be a chance for him to see my flat. He’s leaving soon. Perhaps we’ll indulge in some…
Kissing?
Touching?
Fondling?
My blood runs hotter at the thought of his hands on my body. Am I being too hopeful?
“Sure,” he says easily, and that ease, the hopeful look on his handsome face, almost feels false.
Or maybe that’s my own self-doubt creeping in.
We arrive at Cannon’s hotel in a matter of minutes, and next thing I know he’s leaping out of the car, rounding the back of it to hold my door open. He takes my hand and helps me out, pulling me close and leading me into the hotel with my hand still clasped in his. The very hand that is so large, mine practically disappears.
The man is massive. I can’t imagine what he might look like without a stitch of clothing on.
A shiver moves through me. Then again, I might like to imagine Cannon naked. I’m sure he’s incredibly muscular, not an ounce of fat on him, while I’m a little more on the large-breasted and curvy-bottomed side of things. I can look sleek and refined when I need to, but that’s only because I’m strapped into the most confining bra known to woman.
Wait a minute. My brain takes off in that direction. Yes, we just might—mess around, and my undergarments aren’t very sexy.
Like at all.
“Why are you frowning? Having second thoughts?”