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“Cannon.” She cried out as he filled her completely, shoving out the fear and doubt that plagued her mind. Each stroke pounded into her, pummeling the reasons she couldn’t—shouldn’t—let herself love this man. “Please, Cannon.”
“Please, what?”
She shook her head, unsure what she begged for. To stay and make love to him in the snow? To make love to him forever?
Release loomed close, but he felt so damn good and so right inside her she didn’t want her sweet captivity to end. Crystal flakes danced in front of her eyes as he continued to thrust at a punishing pace. Needing more, to hold him captive like he held her, she clenched his cock with her spasming heat.
“Fuck, Snow Angel.” He stilled, and his eyelids dropped. “Do that again and?—”
She squeezed harder. A growl grated from his throat. Satisfaction roared through her as he snapped another curse, her name rumbling from his lips as he pounded into her faster, more furious than ever before. With an abandon she hadn’t known she’d possessed, she begged him to push harder. Faster. He released her hands and she clawed his back with her nails. Gripped his hips so tight she’d be the one to leave a mark this time.
God, she hoped she did. Forever.
“Christ, Rosalie.” Like an animal returned to the wild, he reared back and roared. She watched him in awe, finally witnessing him unleash everything he held inside, pleased she was the woman to make him do it.
As they came down from their highs, with snowflakes melting on their skin, he buried his nose in her hair and whispered, “I love the cold.”
“Me too.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
Rosalie stood on Cannon’s deck with a cup of coffee and dialed her mom while he dressed. She’d ignored several calls from her in the last couple of days, sending quick texts instead of answering, but Lindsay Talbot Zenner could only be put off for so long.
“Hi, Mom,” she said, rubbing her belly, filled with chocolate chip pancakes.
“About time you called. I’ve been mad with worry.”
“No reason to worry. I’m fine.” She was sore from last night’s activities but finer than she’d been in days.
“Then why is the FBI detail still trailing me?”
“It’s just a precaution.” She sipped her coffee. “Are you enjoying the spa?”
“It’s fabulous, but I’d be able to fully relax if you were here.”
“I can’t right now, Mom. We’re getting close to”—she stopped herself from saying Malgor. “We’re close to wrapping this one up. Then I’ll join you.” And she meant it. Once Malgor was stopped, she’d spend time with her mom, with Bella and Devon, planning their wedding.
With Cannon.
Her mom sighed. “Rosalie, baby, it’s been two years. I hate to see you putting your life on hold because of that monster. Maybe it’s time to move on.”
Cannon poked his head out the door. “Ready?”
“Is that a man’s voice?” Her mom’s excitement bubbled over the airwaves. “Did you meet someone?”
“Gotta go, Mom. I’ll call you soon. Love you.”
Fifteen minutes later,Rosalie sat next to Cannon in his pickup truck. She gripped her third cup of coffee but couldn’t silence the conversation with her mother. She couldn’t move on. Moving on meant defeat, and that was unacceptable, but could she find a balance that included Cannon?
He glanced her way. “You’ve been quiet since we left. Talk to me.”
She twisted her fingers in her lap. “I feel like something’s shifted.” She hadn’t just felt it last night. She’d known it. Their banter about loving the cold had been about more than just the weather. At least, it had been for her. Had he felt it too? Now wasn’t the appropriate time for an about-last-night talk, but she couldn’t help giving him an opening to bring up the subject any more than she could stop the snow from falling from the sky.
He didn’t look away from the winding road that led to the hospital. “I feel it too.”
Something fluttered in her belly. “Oh yeah?”
He slowed for a sharp curve in the road. Flashing lights from multiple vehicles on the gravel shoulder caught her attention. “Cannon.”
