He sighed, his muscles relaxing underneath my touch, his grip loosening enough that my hand fell.
“You’re beautiful,” I said, running my fingers freely over his body, catching on all the hard pieces of old scars. “Every.” I kissed one scar. “Single.” Then another. “Inch.”
“Persephone.” My name was a broken whisper.
I tucked my fingers into his athletic pants, tugging them free of his feet and tossing them behind me. Leaving him in nothing but his boxer-briefs.
“Let me in,” I said. “Please, let me help heal you.” He knew I meant so much more than the cut I’d just tended to.
I continued my exploration of his skin, stopping on a four-inch-long piece of hardened skin, my gaze on his, questioning, open. Just like we’d done that day in the shower. All he had to do was make the choice to walk through the door and come to me.
“Razorblade,” he said, his voice rough. “Dad had come home drunk. Lillian had left her toy car—my old one—near the dining room table.” He shrugged. “She was three.”
I swallowed hard, that would only make him four.
I kissed that scar and moved on to another.
“Broken arm,” he said. “Thrown down the stairs.”
Tears burned the backs of my eyes, but I kissed that one and moved to the next, a peppering of raised slashes.
“Kitchen knife,” he explained. “To prevent Mom from ever trying to leave again.”
I kissed each one, tasting salt from the warm tears I couldn’t hold back that splashed upon his skin. He’d told me before about the stove burner and the cigarette burns…but, God, there were so many stories here. So many dark pieces of his past.
Over and over again, I worshiped his body, kissing and caressing those broken pieces of himself hidden beneath the ink, giving those jagged edges more time and care. Silently listening to his story, my heart shattering with each reason behind every scar.
And after what felt like an eternity, a slow-torturous journey through Cannon’s dark past, I kissed my way up to his lips and cradled his face in my hands.
“I see you, Cannon,” I said, not bothering to wipe the tears from my eyes. “And you’re not only the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen but the best man I’ve ever known.”
Something dark and broken shuttered in his eyes before he clenched them shut and pressed his forehead against mine. His arms came around my back, clutching me to him, holding me as he trembled, as those raw, exposed moments from his past lay open and bare between us. And I clung to him, held him silently, pouring every ounce of light and love I had into him until I couldn’t take the small distance one second longer. Until I knew I needed to give him something else entirely.
My heart.
My soul.
I fingered his hair, gripping the strands a bit tighter and tugging until his face was level with mine. I held his dark gaze for a few heartbeats before gently kissing him. He opened for me, and I claimed his mouth, giving and taking and relishing in the taste of him. His hands clenched on my hips as he hefted me up to straddle his lap without breaking our kiss. But I didn’t stay there for long—no, we’d had passionate, wild sex in many places in this house. Now wasn’t the time for that.
I stepped off of him and reached for his hand. He looked up at me questioningly but took my hand. I led him out of the bathroom and to the bed where I gently nudged him until he lay on his back. Slowly, I peeled off my clothes, and his remaining underwear until we were bare before each other. My blood thrumming and thrashing, begging me to go hard and fast with this man. Just like he liked, how I liked. But I hushed the consuming need. Tonight was about Cannon, about him letting me in.
Tonight, he needed to learn what it felt like to be worshipped.
To be adored.
To be the sole focus of another person. Someone he could trust to take care of him.
So, I crawled on the bed, hovering over him, and continued my slow, sizzling kisses over his scars. So many damn scars. I kissed the ones on his thighs while I gripped his hard length in my hand, pumping and stroking the silken heat.
A low growl and he reached for me, his fingers hurried, needy, but I flashed my eyes up to his.
“Let me take care of you, Cannon,” I said, my warm breath hitting his cock in my hand. “Just, tell me if I do something wrong, okay?” He’d taught me so much, but there was a ton I didn’t know.
“You could never do anything wrong,” he hissed as I teased him, but his hands relaxed at his sides. His hips jutted upward as I set my mouth on him, taking him inside me in a slow, tortuous sweep of my mouth. Up and down, I sucked and pumped and hummed around his cock until his entire body was coiled with need, and he growled my name.
I smiled around his flesh, pulling him out of my mouth with a satisfying popping sound. Then I settled myself atop him, taking him in and in, his heat sliding inside me, filling me until I could barely breathe. I threaded our fingers and pulled him upward until we were chest to chest, eye to eye.
And then I moved on him.
Slow, so agonizingly slow.
Each roll of my hips a tortuous raking of internal heat that thrashed and shuttered and pleaded.
An ache so deep I didn’t think I could ever soothe it.
“Goddamn,” Cannon hissed, his lips brushing mine. “You’re gorgeous,” he said as he watched me move on him, as his hands explored my skin with electric caresses.
I cupped his cheeks, keeping pace as I trembled around him, and kissed him. Drank in his sounds as if they could fill that spot in my soul he’d claimed. I kissed him deep and long, in time to the rhythm I’d adapted, riding him in long waves of heat and need and hunger. Dragging out the moment as long as either of us could physically take, drawing us right to that sweet, sharp edge, only to pull us back again.
And just as I felt Cannon harden more inside me, just as my own rising orgasm built and coiled and tightened, just as he clenched his eyes shut and threw his head back, I gripped his hair and drew back his focus.
Caught that dark gaze as I upped my pace, as I sank harder atop him, taking him fast and deep.
“Stay with me,” I pled, needing his eyes on me. Needing him to come with me. Needing him, all of him.
“Always,” he whispered against my lips as I sank atop him again, rolling my hips until I couldn’t hold myself together one second longer.
Cannon gripped me tighter against him as I shattered into a million tiny pieces. He devoured my moans, drinking them in as he found his own release inside me.
And I didn’t stop kissing him.
Didn’t stop breathing him in.
Not until we were forced to pull apart to catch our breath.
And even then, I wanted more.
13
Cannon
“Three, two, one!” The crowd counted down my penalty. Two minutes for roughing had been worth it. Then again, since we were up four to one against Detroit with only three minutes left in the third period, it was fair to note that it hadn’t been my first time in the box tonight.
I flew out onto the ice and positioned myself near the blue line as Briggs and Noble fought to get the puck out of our zone.
One of the Red Wings rubbed a little close on me as I maneuvered forward, so I gave him a little bump. The guy lost his balance and ran into the boards. Whoops.