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CHAPTER10
Cannon
Penelope moves with grace.She’s in tune with her body. She’s an athlete.
But she’s weak as hell.
“Use your body weight.” As if that’ll help. I can dunk her in icing and she still won’t have enough weight to toss me off her. “A plié isn’t going to get you out of a choke hold.”
She strains against me. Her hands are hooked on my arm around her neck and her shoulder’s digging into my chest as she’s wiggling her hips in an unfortunate way against my crotch to roll me off her.
The only thing she’s doing is gyrating against my dick. Her attempts are going to be incredibly effective if I end up throwing myself off her and running to the corner to hide the way my hard-on is tenting my shorts.
My mind is focused on her ass when she lets go of my arm and rams a sharp elbow into my gut.
Air whooshes out. I let go out of surprise, which is the point of the whole exercise. I just didn’t expect her to land a blow.
I cough and she spins. Her triumphant expression is wiped away by concern. “Did I hurt you?”
I’m holding my side, but I doubt there’ll even be a bruise. The shock at least redirects blood from my groin. “You took me off guard.”
Her plump lower lip sticks out. “Oh.”
“Relax, prizefighter. You got me. You can be proud of that.” We’ve been at this for two hours and she’s had a full day. “We should wrap up anyway.”
“Right. It’s late.” Her gaze drifts in the direction of our bedrooms. The same fear I saw last night fills her eyes.
“Do you need me to sleep with you again?” Why the hell did I offer? She can at least try to sleep on her own. I can try not to punish myself.
She bites her lower lip and looks at the wall without the mirrors. “It’s wrong, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
She lifts her resigned gaze to mine. “I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep.”
“You can use the bathroom first.” I leave the gym, not waiting for her to answer, pissed at myself that I can’t say no.
I never claimed not to be an asshole. I don’t even worry about being professional. But sleeping in the same bed goes too far. I have to figure out why Peter Cowles showed at the house. If he’d previously demonstrated signs of being a concerned father, I wouldn’t be wondering. But he’s too much like Roman to discount his reasons.
If it has to do with Roman, that could clarify or complicate things. Or both. I have Roman hooked, I know it. He wants Penelope out of the way, and since he ramped up his stalking charade after she filed for divorce, he wants her dealt with before the divorce is final.
I run through various reasons for his actions as I stride through the house to the kitchen.
Brittany’s by the fridge. A variety of produce is spread across the island, and her brand of blender is plugged in. She’s making notes in a notepad, her brow furrowed.
She glances up. “Oh, hi, Cannon. If you’d like a smoothie, I have a pineapple-coconut blend that I think turned out really well.”
I wasn’t sure what to think of Brittany when we moved into her house. Other than her attempts to draw Penelope into her life of nutrition products, she’s more down-to-earth than I expected. She creates a lot of the recipes but relies on her team to make them portable and figure out how to extend the shelf-life. Brittany is the brains behind Basic Bitch Nutrition, from the recipes to the financials to the product rollouts.
My stomach reminds me that I haven’t eaten much. While Penelope ate dinner and updated her mom, I fast-forwarded through security footage. Only Peter came and left. “You mind?”
She waved a hand across the counter. “Absolutely not. If I minded, I would’ve offered my attempt at mango, avocado, and dragon fruit.”
I chuckle and take the glass of yellow smoothie. Coconut-filled sweetness hits my tongue. I have a soft spot for coconut.
Brittany presses her hands to the countertop. “Will you answer me truthfully if I ask you if Penelope’s doing okay?”
“She’s fine. I think she’s learning she’s stronger than she thought.”
