Gorgeous? I took in the flush of her cheeks and the rapid rise and fall of her breasts against that modest neckline. Huh. Maybe I wasn’t the only one fighting an attraction here.
“Turn around,” I ordered.
“What?”
“Turn around unless you want an eyeful.”
Our eyes locked as the room filled with a potent electricity. Fuck me, but one tug of this towel, and a simple tug of her panties to the side, and I could be so deep inside this woman that she’d be ruined for every man who came after me.
The thought had its appeal.
She broke the connection, turning her back on me, and I went about getting dressed.
“I don’t think we can get this annulled.”
I paused momentarily, then jerked my boxer briefs up and reached for my shorts. “Why? It’s not like we had sex.”
“You don’t know that,” she said primly.
I pulled on my shorts and shirt. “It’s safe to turn around now.”
She did, and I felt an odd sense of satisfaction that she looked disappointed when she saw I had my shirt on.
“I do know that we didn’t have sex,” I reiterated, sitting to get my socks and shoes on.
“You can’t possibly know that!” She repeated.
“No condoms in the trash can. Trust me, even drunk, there’s no way I’d forget to use one.”
“Well, maybe you did this time. I mean, we both did things completely out of character, right?” She ran her tongue across her lips, and I quelled the urge to pull her toward me and suck it into my mouth.
My gaze narrowed. What the hell was she getting at?
“Are you sore?” I bent to tie my shoes, and by the time I looked up, she still hadn’t answered me. “Well, are you? Because if we’d had sex, trust me, you’d still feel it. You’re fucking tiny, and I’m not.”
“Well, no.” She looked away. “But that doesn’t mean anything, either.”
It what? My gaze narrowed. “Okay, then how about this. It wouldn’t matter if I was drugged out of my goddamned mind. If I ever got my hands on your body, I’d remember. We didn’t have sex. Trust me. What the hell is this really about, Persephone?”
She swallowed and took a deep breath. “I need us to stay married.”
My jaw dropped. “I’m sorry?”
“My mom is really sick. She’s dying. She has a super rare blood type, and her kidneys are failing. We’ve tried for the last five years to find her a match and can’t. The doctors are giving her months, Cannon. That’s it. Just months.” She took a seat beside me on the bench.
“God, I’m sorry.” Losing my mother had been the worst moment of my life. I wouldn’t wish that shit on my worst enemy. Persephone was a lot of things, but she wasn’t even close to being an enemy.
“Thank you. I guess it just goes to show you that money can’t buy everything, right?” She forced a smile. “I thought she was going to lose it when the press got ahold of our wedding pictures.”
“Fucking chapel,” I muttered.
“We should definitely report them to the Better Business Bureau,” she said with a nod.
The corners of my mouth lifted.
“Anyway, instead of being angry at me, she was thrilled.” Her voice shook a little.
“Thrilled?” I examined her profile, but there wasn’t any hint that she was lying.
“She was so happy. She said she just wanted to see me happy. To see me find love. And then she mentioned the dozen or so times my older sister has been married and annulled within a month, and I felt so…slimy.”
“Slimy,” I repeated because I didn’t have any other words.
“Right.” She turned slightly and looked up at me.
Fuuuuuuck, those eyes hit me right in the heart. I threw up every defense I’d managed to construct in my twenty-seven years, and those baby blues sliced right through them like butter.
“Cannon, I know you hate me and hate how I was raised and pretty much everything I stand for, but would you consider staying married to me? At least until…” She drifted off.
At least until my mother dies. I heard her unspoken words loud and clear.
“Persephone, I’m the last person your family would ever want you married to, even for a few months. Look at me.”
She didn’t flinch. “I am looking at you, Cannon. My mother has seen your pictures. She knows you’re an NHL star. She knows, and she’s still so happy for me, and the idea of taking that happiness away from her when she’s already lost so much…” She shook her head.
It would only be for a few months. Holy shit, was I actually considering this? “There are a thousand reasons this is a shit idea.”
Her eyes flared with hope. “But one really good reason that it’s not. And I wouldn’t ask much of you, I promise. Well, there’s one thing.” She cringed.
“There’s something bigger than asking me to stay married to you when we both know we’re completely wrong for each other?”
“Mom wants to plan a wedding.”
“Fuck that—”
“She said she can’t die knowing that I was married by a singing Elvis and she wasn’t even there to see me, or have my dad give me away. And it would be a really small affair, and it wouldn’t hurt anyone because we’re already married, right?” She pressed her lips in a thin line and flat-out begged. “Please, Cannon? Please?”
Those eyes. They were my fucking kryptonite.
But marry her again? This time for real? Just to turn around and annul it months later? Months of living with her? Struggling to keep my hands off her?
“Persephone, I don’t know. I really respect what you’re trying to do for your mom. You have no idea how much I respect you for it but do you really want her last months on this earth—her last months with you—to be consumed by a lie?”
She stood slowly and turned to face me. “I want her last months on this earth to be consumed by happiness, and if I have to lie to give her that, then I hope she’ll forgive me when I eventually join her. I hate having to ask you to lie. I’ve honestly never known you to even tell a lie. But I can’t give that kind of happiness to my mother without your help. I know it’s unfair of me to ask, but there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her.”
She raised her chin and stilled, waiting for my verdict.
“I need some time to think. Can you give me that?” I asked her.
Hope flared in her eyes again, and she nodded enthusiastically. “Absolutely. I can give you that.” She gifted me with a smile that would have knocked me on my ass if I hadn’t been sitting down. “I’ll talk to you later.”
She was almost out the door when I called her name.
“Persephone.”
“Yes?”
“I don’t hate you,” I assured her gently. Her posture softened. “I might hate everything your wealth stands for, but I don’t hate you. There’s a difference.” I needed her to know that. Why? Who the hell knew.
“Thank you. And don’t stress about the wedding thing. Really. I’ll even buy your tux. You know, a real one. Not like the tux and T-shirt you wore to the Vegas wedding.”