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  “Hell if I know. He should’ve stayed in his damn box, where they’d be waited on hand and foot. But something was different that night. The way she told it, crowds parted for Dom like he was a king. Back then, he was rising to power in a very decisive fashion, so it’s not hard to imagine.”

  He pours the red into both glasses and hands one to me before continuing.

  “Of course, a girl from Brooklyn would be stunned to see a man like Dom and the respect he commanded. And with his eye for beautiful women, Dom couldn’t miss her. Even in her homemade dress and cheap shoes, he knew she was special.”

  Cannon sounds equal parts sad and angry right now. I want to tell him it’s okay, that he doesn’t have to tell me anything more, but I can’t bring myself to speak. The faraway look in his eye tells me that he’s slipped into the story his mother used to tell and isn’t ready to leave it.

  “Then what happened?” I ask, reaching up to adjust my wig, wishing I could rip the dang thing off while he’s baring his soul.

  “He insisted on buying her that glass of champagne and then charmed the hell out of her. Found out where she worked. Promised he’d come see her, and they’d have champagne together. Talked to her until the lights flashed and he had to get back to his box. She watched the rest of the opera with one eye, looking for him with the other, but she couldn’t find him. Probably because she didn’t have those little opera glasses to snoop on people like everyone else. She thought she’d never see him again, and by the time she made it home to Brooklyn, she said she’d put him out of her mind.”

  “But Dom didn’t forget her, did he?”

  Cannon’s head moves slowly from side to side while I lift my glass to my lips.

  “No. He found her on Monday at the fabric shop. Took her to lunch. Made her feel beautiful. And then he came back every single day and took her to eat until she finally couldn’t resist him.” He pauses, the muscle in his jaw ticking. “She’d tell the story to me at bedtime like it was a fairy tale. She just didn’t realize it would end in a nightmare. She didn’t realize he was married; she always made sure to tell me that. She never would’ve gotten involved with a married man if she’d known.”

  He flattens one hand on the counter, around the base of his glass, and I cover it with mine.

  Cannon keeps speaking without acknowledging my touch. “It’s hard to condemn her for it, because I wouldn’t be alive if she hadn’t met him, but . . .” He glances up at me, his features tight. “Fuck. I didn’t mean to get into something this heavy right now.”

  “You don’t have to say anything else. It’s fine.”

  Cannon shakes his head again, moving his hand so he can squeeze mine. As he does, he says, “I can’t help but wonder if she’d still be alive if I’d never been born.”

  My heart breaks for him. Right then. Right there.

  “I am so sorry, Cannon. It wasn’t your fault. Wondering things like that will never bring you any peace. Trust me, I wonder all the time if my father would still be alive if I’d done something different to trip the wheels of fate and send them rolling in another direction.”

  My voice grows husky as the words choke me up. And then there’s the thought blaring through my brain right now—one I can’t tell Cannon.

  Did my father have to die for me to meet this man? The one I’m falling in love with?

  I have to tell him the truth. Right now.

  “There’s something I need to—” I say, but a buzzer sounds from the area near the door.

  Cannon’s gaze lifts to meet mine. “That’s Geno. Always quicker than he says. I’ll run down and get the food. Drink your wine. No more heavy shit tonight. Just . . . us. Okay?”

  He releases my hand and slips away, giving me a reprieve that I don’t even want.

  36

  Cannon

  I know she’s going to tell me something I don’t want to hear. Something that’s going to change everything. If I were a smart man, I’d drag every bit of information out of this cagey woman I can get, but tonight, I don’t want to be smart.

  No. Tonight, I just want her.

  Reckless as fuck, but I don’t care. Sometimes you have to take risks. Leaps of faith. That’s what the hell I’m doing right now.

  Telling Drew my mother’s story reminds me that there’s not a damn thing we can do to change the path of fate. Drew came into my life for a reason, and I’m not ready to find out exactly what that reason is. Tonight, I just want to pretend that we’re two people who want to be with each other, and if we’re lucky, we’ll both be able to silence the ghosts that haunt us.

  When I come back upstairs with a giant pizza box and two huge bags of food, loaded down with what Geno called all the necessities for seduction, Drew hasn’t moved. She’s still at the counter, sipping her wine and watching the door.

  As soon as I enter, she pops out of her seat and rushes over to help, but I shake my head.

  “I’ve got it. I promise I can carry Italian food safely. I wouldn’t dare commit the cardinal sin of dropping it.”

  The smile that lifts the corners of her mouth is too fucking beautiful for words. It gives me all sorts of ideas about where tonight is going, and every single one of them is going to be fucking amazing.

  I haven’t felt this way about a woman in years. Maybe ever.

  Something about Drew Carson is different, and if I were fatalistic enough to believe like my mother, I’d say the universe sent her to me for a reason.

  “At least let me take the box, and not just because I want to steal a slice. God, this smells amazing.”

  “Geno knows his shit. He’s been cooking since he was eight years old, if you believe his stories, which I do,” I tell Drew as I settle the bags on the counter.

  “That’s pretty impressive,” she says.

  “Yeah, but he’s not the best businessman, which is why he got into trouble with his former landlord.”

  “How long ago did you buy the building?”

  “This one? About eight years ago, when I was . . .” I pause, not sure if I want to talk about Creighton and why I no longer work for him.

  “You were . . .” Drew prompts me as she glances up from the dozen containers now lining the counter.

  “I was working for Creighton Karas.”

  She presses her lips together for a beat before speaking. “You mentioned that. How’d you go from working for him to running the club?”

  I unearth plates and plasticware from Geno’s bags and set them on the counter in front of two stools before meeting her gaze and deciding to take a risk. Whatever she does with the information is going to tell me more than my gut will.

  “I got fired for feeding information to Dom.”

  This time, Drew’s eyes go wide. “What?”

  “Creighton and I are half brothers, except he didn’t know it and I did. Dom sent me to school to make friends with him. Become his right-hand man. As long as I reported back to Dom about everything, I had it made. Easy street.”

  “What happened?” Drew looks up from opening a container of manicotti.

  I meet her brown gaze and wish I could see the true color. “Eventually, I got sick of lying to someone I cared about.” The statement is pointed as hell, and if I’m wrong, I’ll apologize to her. Then I remember that I said no more heavy shit tonight, and that’s exactly what I’m doing. “Anyway, it’s all in the past. Let’s eat. I promise this is some of the best Italian you’ll have in the city. Maybe the planet.”

  I grab the bottle of wine to refill her glass. Drew is silent beside me, but I swear to Christ I can feel her open her mouth again and again, as though she wants to speak but can’t bring herself to do it.

  At least knowing she wants to tell me why she’s lying to me is something.

  Maybe I am just like my mom. Willing to settle for scraps.

  The thought sends a bolt of anger through me.

  No. No, I will not fucking settle for scraps. But I will take my time finding out what I need to know. Drew Carson is going to come clean and tell me all her secrets. She will.

  Because deep down, I want to believe she’s battling the same demons I was with Creighton—fighting the lies and wanting to tell the truth even more.

  37

  Drew

  “Did Geno think I was secretly a competitive eater, because holy crap, we barely put a dent in what he sent up,” I say thirty minutes later as I stare at the massive amount of food still left between us. How did Geno think we could possibly eat all of it?

  Cannon smiles, and it’s much more lighthearted than the serious expression he had on his face when he went down to get the food. True to his word, he changed the subject to funny stories about living in New York and the crazy things he’s seen over the years that make him think nothing could shock him anymore.

  “Geno wants to fatten everyone up. He doesn’t trust skinny people.” Cannon points at me with the end of a half-eaten breadstick.

  I give Cannon and his physique a sidelong glance. “I hate to break it to you and Geno, but you’re not fat or skinny. You’re fit as hell.”

  Heat kicks up in Cannon’s gaze. “You’ve been checking out my ass, haven’t you? I knew I felt something back there.”

  “So what if I was? It was only fitting with how much you checked out mine.”

  Now his grin grows. “Damn right, and yours is perfect. I’ve been dying to get you naked and in my bed.”

  A punch of lust shoots through me, and there’s nothing I want more right now than this man. I glance over my shoulder toward the bedroom and then back at Cannon.

  “Is that your version of an invitation? Because I thought you were way smoother than that.”

  A languid and decadent expression overtakes his face. “With you, I don’t want to be smooth. I just want to be me.”

  Oh God. His words hit me like nothing else could, shaking me to the very foundation of my soul. I want to give him the same. Me, and nothing else.

  And I can. No lies. Just me.

  “Give me five minutes.” I hop off the stool, grab my purse, and rush into the bathroom before he can say anything.

  Inside, I stare at my reflection as I pull off the wig, comb out my hair, and remove my contacts. If I had face wash, I’d wash off all the makeup too, but I don’t. This will have to be good enough.

  My intentions are as pure as they’ve ever been in my life.

  I don’t want to hide behind my disguise anymore. I want to give him me, which is something I’ve never given anyone before. Ever.

  When I step out of the bathroom, Cannon shuts the door of the fridge and turns to face me. The wine is still on the counter, but the remains of the dinner and the leftovers that could feed two people for a week are gone.

  When he sees me, he doesn’t hesitate. He stalks across his kitchen and stops with not even an inch between us.

  “You’re so fucking beautiful, Dr—”

  I plaster my lips to his before he can say my phony name. I don’t want to hear it on his lips. I want to hear my name in that deep, smooth voice, and I promise myself that’ll be next. Tomorrow. Soon.

  Cannon wraps the fingers of his free hand around the back of my neck, taking the kiss deeper as his tongue strokes mine. When he pulls back to stare into my eyes, it’s only to murmur, “God, I want you.”

  “Good, because I don’t think I can stand waiting another minute for this.”

  Cannon sets me away from him a few inches. His hazel eyes scan up and down my body, as if taking in every detail, before he lunges forward to sweep me off my feet. Literally.

  With his mouth on my neck, he carries me into his bedroom and lowers me slowly onto the jade-green duvet covering the king-size mattress. His lips glide along my chin and then back down my neck, pressing kiss after kiss to every part of me I never knew was this sensitive. My ear, my jaw, the curve of my shoulder. And as he does it, his clever hands strip me until I’m in my bra and panties. Only then does he pause to look down at me like I’m his reward for a lifetime of good deeds.

  “You’re so fucking perfect.” His hazel gaze roams over my body, and I reach up to slide a finger between the buttons of his shirt and tug him down to me.

  “I want to see you too.”

  With a grin curving his lips, he reaches for the buttons. In less time than I would have thought possible, he strips out of his jacket and shirt before going for his belt.

  My fingers collide with his as I try to help, reaching down between our bodies. In my eagerness, I probably slow him down, but I don’t care. I’m a full and willing participant in this, and I want him just as badly as he wants me.

  When his cock springs into my hand, I wrap my palm around it and squeeze.

  The harsh sigh that escapes his lungs makes me bolder and even more confident. I scoot sideways and change positions so I can guide him toward my mouth. The molten need burning in his gaze tells me that he wants it, even if he won’t ask. Yet.

  I don’t know why, but I have the sense that Cannon Freeman is holding back right now because he doesn’t want to overwhelm me.

  That’s just more for me to discover later.

  I lap at the head with my tongue, reveling in the strangled groan released from his lungs. After I’ve finally taken him deep and established a rhythm, he pulls away, his hands locked around my shoulders.

  “No more. I’m not coming in your mouth. Not right now.”

  That’s when he starts flexing his dominant streak.

  Cannon reaches for me, and a second later, my ass is perched on the edge of the bed, and he drops to his knees in front of me, pulling my panties aside to feast. Last time, he started slow and worked up to full strength, but not now. He’s a man on a mission, and that mission is my orgasm.

  I’m hanging on by a thread when he bites down just hard enough on my clit to send me screaming over the edge.

  Only then does he pull away and yank open the nightstand drawer. I watch as he tears open the foil packet and then rolls the condom down his shaft, wishing it was my mouth doing the honors.

  Except, if it were, I would have missed the way Cannon grips his cock and strokes, handling himself roughly. There’s something so ridiculously hot and masculine about it, another wave of wetness floods my center. I’m dying for him. I need him inside me.

  “Hurry.” It’s the only word I can manage to get out, and instead of following my order, Cannon smiles.

  “Oh, baby, there’s one thing I’m sure as hell not going to do with you, and that’s hurry.”

  Cue melting into the bed, because the look on his face is pure appreciation. I’ve never been one of those women who walks around with massive amounts of body confidence, but I do try to appreciate what I’ve been given. I’m not perfect. I have love handles and cellulite and always seem to be five pounds or more from my goal weight, but in this moment, I’m nothing but grateful. The way Cannon stares at me . . . it’s like I’m a goddess and he’s never seen anything as beautiful as me, lying before him, waiting to welcome him inside me.

  And maybe I am. I arch my back as he comes toward me, and my hands reach for the clasp on my bra and toss it aside.

  Cannon releases the grip on himself to snag the waistband of my panties between two hooked fingers. One corner of his mouth quirks up as he says, “Sorry.”

  I open my mouth to ask why, but before the words are out, the elastic snaps. Holy hell. The heat in his gaze as he tosses the ruined underwear aside makes all the difference in the world.

  “Please.”

  “I plan on pleasing you.”

  In any other moment, his line might be cheesy, but as he steps between my legs, bending over me to drag his lips across the slope of my breast, to capture my nipple in his mouth and give it a nip and a tug, it makes me even more desperate for him.

  “I’ve wanted you like this since the moment you walked into the club.” His voice comes out as a growl as he nudges the head of his cock against my entrance and his eyes narrow. “Do you know how frustrating it is to want someone so badly and know you can’t have her? It drove me absolutely fucking nuts.”

  I reach out to skim the hard muscles of his thighs with my fingertips, urging him forward and wishing I could curl my palms around the perfect curve of his ass.

  “There’s nothing stopping you from having me now,” I whisper, because it’s the absolute truth.

  But for some reason, his gaze darkens. “There are a million things that should stop me, but not a goddamned one will. I staked my claim. I meant it. You are mine.” On the last word, he plunges into me, balls deep, with a single stroke.

  My breath gets caught in my throat and a moan comes out a garbled cry. My back arches, as if I’m lifting my hips in homage to him. Cannon reaches beneath me and grips my ass, raising me higher, so he can pull out almost completely. With just the head of his cock inside me, he stares into my eyes and repeats it again.

  “Mine. All fucking mine.” He tunnels inside me again and again, and with every stroke, he brushes against my G-spot, lighting me up until I’m begging for release.

  “Please. Please.”

  From beneath my heavy lids, I watch as a devastating smile sneaks onto Cannon’s face. Self-satisfied and confident, he grips my hips and fucks me exactly the way he wants. As I thrash and grip the sheets for stability, he moves his thumb, sweeping it over my clit.

  It’s like someone found the button for demolition, because that’s exactly what he does to me—destroys every single barrier left between us.

  “Cannon!” I scream his name as I’m torn away from my hold on reality and plunged into pleasure, where sparks burst in my field of vision.

  Even then, he doesn’t stop. He fucks into me harder and faster, his thumb increasing its pressure until I can’t say a single intelligible word. All I am is sensation and need and desperation.

  “Again. Give it to me again.” He grunts out the order, and I can do nothing but whip my head from side to side.

  On the edge of a ragged breath, I manage to get out a muddled reply. “Can’t. Too much.”

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