I’m sure he means it, but tonight, with his departure only hours away, his words are…
Meaningless.
We remain quiet for a while, the world going on without us, until the server stops by to check on us and Cannon requests the bill.
“Do you need some money?” I ask once the server is gone, reaching for my bag.
He grabs my arm and stops me. “Absolutely not. This is my treat.”
I let him pay. He’s paid for everything since we’ve met. Mother can’t criticize him for not being a gentleman, because he so is.
Not that she’ll ever meet him, so…I guess I never have to worry about her criticizing him either.
The moment the bill is paid, Cannon is leading me out of the restaurant and into an Uber he ordered. The drive is short since the hotel is thankfully close, and we’re locked away in his room in minutes, both of us still quiet and, oddly enough, not immediately reaching for each other either.
I feel suddenly shy. Perhaps he’s aware of my change of mood and doesn’t know how to approach me either. He’s clear on the other side of the room, standing at the window that overlooks the city while I’m hovering near the door, wringing my hands and wondering what I should do next.
“Do you want to go home?”
Cannon’s deep voice knocks me from my thoughts, startling me.
“Do you want me to go home?” I ask in return.
An irritated sound escapes him and he runs a hand through his hair before turning to face me. “You’re hanging out by the door like you’re gonna make a run for it, so I thought you might want to bail.”
“I…” I straighten my spine, my gaze meeting his. I need to be truthful. “I don’t want to bail.”
“Well, come here then.” He waves a hand, his expression weary, and I go to him, gasping when he hauls me into his arms and squeezes me tight. “We can’t act like this, Sus. These are our last hours together before I leave. We have to make them count,” he murmurs close to my ear.
I close my eyes, fending off the tears that threaten to spill. I know he’s right. We need to shift the mood and soon, or else we’ll end up having sex and crying in each other’s arms for the rest of the evening.
The having sex part sounds wonderful, but the crying part sounds bloody awful.
And just like that, an idea comes over me.
“You need to say something,” I murmur into the solid wall of his chest.
“What was that?” He wraps his hands around my shoulders and pulls away from me, putting some space between us.
“You need to say something,” I repeat, hoping he’ll know what I’m referring to.
Judging by the tremendous frown on his handsome face, he’s not understanding what I’m trying to say. “Like what?”
“Something—dirty.” My cheeks go hot. “To change the mood.”
Realization lights his eyes and he nods, a sexy smirk appearing on his face. “You want me to start up the dirty talk?”
I nod hurriedly, my head bobbing like I’m an out-of-control doll. “I think it might help.”
“I’m sure you do.” He chuckles, and the tension between us has already shifted. “Whatcha you want me to say?”
“Isn’t that your area of expertise? Figuring out what to say?”
“Hmm.” He rubs his chin, I can hear his fingers rasping against the stubble growing there, and I want to rub against him. Feel the sharp prick of his newly forming beard scrape against my sensitive skin. “I know you like it when I talk about making your pussy wet.”
“You’re right.” A tingle starts low in my belly, and I nod my encouragement. “Do go on.”
Another chuckle escapes him and he studies me with a peculiar gleam in his eye. “Want me to lick that sweet pussy of yours, or stroke it first?”