A Bear Victory (7 page)

“Is this what you want?” she asked with a delicately arched brow, grinding on him with the tiniest of movements, teasing and tormenting.

“Yessss,” he hissed, slipping his hands lower on her thighs to clutch them as she rolled her body forward a little again.

“Are you sure?” she asked, a tiny giggle in her voice.

It was then that she knew that she couldn’t toy with him for too long. Too many years had passed and they both wanted it far too much. While he’d given her a small bit of relief, the man she loved and wanted watched her with burning eyes, still teetering on that edge that she’d been allowed over.

Cannon shot up to sit, grabbing her by the back of her head and kissing her deeply as he lifted her by the hip slightly. Pulling back with a rumbling snarl as he thrust his tongue into her mouth, he plowed upward into her so hard and deep that she thought she’d lose her capability to breathe completely.

All she could do was hold on. Her arms went around his neck as he pumped into her, soon rolling them both over and flipping her down so he was on top of her, each stroke filling her completely before he would pull out almost all the way. Kimberley could faintly tell that she was screaming again, clutching the sheets and him with her pussy clenching around him, milking him, wanting all he had.

His motions turned jagged after a time that seemed like an eternity and yet not nearly enough; the desire she’d managed to ignore for him for years was now back in full flame. Her eyes fluttered open just as she exploded under his touch again, pleasure thrumming through her at the very same moment that he came, Cannon finishing with a
roar
.

Kimberley whimpered as she felt him empty into her, his seed white and thick and he collapsed on top of her, hovering on his elbows so he wouldn’t crush her underneath his massive body. She squirmed around his cock, riding her own wave of pleasure until she was completely spent, a wheezing, wet, sweaty mess.

She wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Cannon pulled out slowly, gingerly, and by the time he’d lowered himself to the sheets beside her, one strong arm had immediately scooped her closer to him. She laughed as he dotted kisses on the back of her neck, nuzzling her from behind and that rasp of his beard now scratching slightly against the delicate skin.

“So, this is the bedroom,” he said, his voice warm and bemused.

“I figured that much.”

“I thought I should show it to you from several angles.”

She put one hand on top of his, their fingers lacing. There was no doubt in her mind that she’d be kicking herself for all of this in the morning, but right now? It felt fucking amazing.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Cannon

Morning came too soon as far as Cannon was concerned. He would have been completely at ease if the night had just stretched on and on without an end in sight, his arms around Kimberley and her soft lips on his. But dawn broke eventually and even the baddest hockey bad boys needed their slumber, so sometime after the third round, Cannon had dozed off, with Kimberley tight in his arms.

He was intent on not letting her sneak off anywhere without him knowing in advance.

The werebear was woken up with a start as Kimberley wriggled from his grasp, lunging for her phone that was buzzing somewhere in the mass of clothes down on the floor. He got one good look at her scrumptious bare ass before she threw on his shirt, which looked infinitely better on her than it ever did on him even if it hid her body from his sleepy gaze.

“What’s going on?” he mumbled, hiking himself up on one elbow as Kimberley hushed him with an idle hand wave and a much more pointed balled-up pair of jeans flying in the general direction of his head.

“Stella? Yes, I hear you! No, I’m fine! Yes, I’m in Shifter Grove. How did you—”

Cannon watched as Kimberley’s expression went from mildly annoyed to surprised to completely blank, nodding her head as she listened to what sounded like a stream of screeching jabber coming from whoever was at the other end of the line.

“Yes, it is the Chicago Bluehawks. Yes, the rumors are true. How did I know? Um, I—”

“You’ve got friends in high places,” Cannon offered with a grin, tossing the covers off and fishing around for a new pair of underwear, perfectly aware that Kimberley was staring at him as he did so.

He hoped she liked what she saw now as much as she had the evening before.

“Someone gave me a call but I wanted to check it out myself. I’m coming back today. What? Stella, no, I’m coming back! You can’t... no, I mean okay, I get it,” Kimberley said, her tone flabbergasted now, sounding placating at best. “I’ll do it. Yeah, sure. Yes, two thousand words. Fine. Bye.”

Cannon looked at her with a flicker of questioning in his bright blue eyes as Kimberley closed the call and sent her phone bouncing over the bed with a dull thud as it finally stopped on one of the messed-up pillows. Her brows were knit together now and she looked as far as she possibly could from the smiling, beaming beauty he’d made purr in his arms last night.

“What’s going on, baby?” Cannon asked, stepping up to her and stringing his arms around her waist before she could bat him away.

“I’m not your baby,” she said with a frustrated sigh, though she dropped her forehead against his shoulder and he tightened his grip around her as she seemed to contemplate her fantastically questionable luck lately.

“I didn’t hear any objections last night,” he said with a chuckle.

“Well, drunk Kimberley doesn’t know what she’s talking or not talking about,” she grumbled softly, banging her head repeatedly against his shoulder until he put a hand to her chin and tilted it to look up at him.

“You weren’t drunk and neither was I. No excuses, Kimberley. Now, what’s going on?”

Kimberley gave him a look that could end up with him getting smacked across the face, pushed back on the bed and straddled, or simply ignored—he could never tell with that woman and the unpredictable nature he had seen far more than he cared to admit. This time, she simply softly slid out of their embrace, grabbing for her panties and pulling them on as she shook her head again.

“So apparently, everyone knows that you guys are in Shifter Grove now. And just my luck, this is big news. The Shifter Grove Shovelers… I swear, you might as well have called yourselves the Shifter Grove Shifters if you wanted to be ridiculous.”

“Maybe we will,” he offered with a toothy grin, garnering him another half-hearted glare, along with a twitch of her lips. “You’re the PR expert here, I’m at your mercy. But if we’re big news, does that mean you’re staying?”

He watched her straighten up again, loving the way the shirt draped over her body and even more the quirky, snarly look she gave. It made him want to toss her down on the bed again, but he refrained from letting himself get swept away like that again. He’d have to make up for lost time in other ways now too, not just by reminding both of them how good they were together in bed.

Good? Try mind-blowing,
he corrected himself silently.

“Looks like it,” Kimberley finally admitted, tossing her hands to the sky as she stomped out of the bedroom. “Because apparently this trip couldn’t get screwed up enough already!”

“Oh, there’s definitely been some screwing,” Cannon muttered, stalking out after her, not bothering to find another shirt.

They looked far better on Kimberley anyway. She disappeared into one of the two bathrooms with a toothbrush before he could catch her again, and with a shrug, he followed her lead. Five minutes later, he was in the kitchen, making coffee and toast while gnawing on an apple, the early-morning sun shimmering through the windows.

Cannon cracked a couple of eggs in the pan, letting them sizzle and fry along with some bacon while he prepared the coffee, waiting for Kimberley to make another appearance. There was no practice that day to give the guys some time to rest up, because their next game was in a couple of days against the Timberwolves.

As much as they’d wiped the floor with the Grizzlies, mostly thanks to their rather unique home court advantage, Cannon knew that the Timberwolves would hear about their antics and come prepared. He was sort of wishing he could see the way the Seattle team was training right now, because he was damn sure their coach was dragging them on some godforsaken lake just like Coach Wiley had.

But his musings were cut short quickly as Kimmy pattered into the room, still barefoot and a little bit tousled from their long night and the “unfortunate” news she’d received. He couldn’t be surprised about her reluctance to stay. He hadn’t done anything aside from fuck her brains out to show her that he was any better than he used to be, and the sex had never been the problem.

He pushed one of the cups of coffee her way, black just the way she drank it, and took a sip of his own. She accepted it gratefully and sunk down behind the counter, long legs dangling around the bar stool. As usual, he had a hard time keeping his eyes off of her and it still amazed him that she was there at all, that she’d come. And that she’d stayed.

“Your eggs are burning, lover boy,” Kimberley finally said with a smirk, making Cannon snap out of his self-imposed daydreaming.

“Shit,” he hissed, taking the pan off the heat and scooping the eggs and bacon onto two plates.

It wasn’t too bad, just a little crispy. But that’s how he preferred his bacon anyway. He took his plate and went to sit at the other side of the counter as well, hopping up on a seat next to her and grabbing her chair with one hand, yanking it closer to him.

“Wouldn’t want you to get lost in my big house. Better keep you close,” he remarked lightly, avoiding her gaze as he speared some eggs and bacon on his fork and dug in.

She snorted next to him, but he could feel the smile on her lips as she started eating as well. The air was a bit tense, true, because now they didn’t have hurried kisses to fill the silences or the excuse of groping one another when talking was too hard. And it was still far too fucking difficult.

Cannon gave Kimberley a sideways glance, feeling inexplicably silly around her. He was a grown-ass man, one of the best playmakers in the league, lauded and desired for a hell of a lot more than just the way he looked. And yet this sharp, beautiful woman could reduce him to a stuttering mess with the tiniest look. He knew exactly why that was.

A bear always melted in front of his mate, after all. And that was what she was, even if she didn’t believe it anymore.

You fucked up big time,
he reminded himself, his mood souring slightly.

The events that had taken place between them all those years ago still hung over his head like an axe. As far as the tabloids knew, he’d had plenty of women since that, but that wasn’t the whole truth. Cannon had been doing anything to fill the void that Kimberley had left. One that seemed to be growing bigger with every day, until winning, succeeding, and being the best at everything else in his life wasn’t enough anymore.

He’d promised her he’d keep away, so he wouldn’t hurt her again. But here he was, practically wrestling her into giving him another chance. Or, well, stumbling through an attempt at getting her to consider it. But just getting her there wouldn’t be good enough, this much he knew. He’d actually have to be able to talk about it.

Every time he looked at her though, his words seemed to shrivel up in his throat and clutch at him with iron talons. The thought of messing up again around her left him petrified with fear, and he reverted back to the same smug, joking guy he was usually, the one she knew and probably loathed as much as she loved it. He couldn’t help it though. Not yet.

“How’s the food?” he asked. “I bet I make a better breakfast than those Montreal jokesters,” he said with a derisive huff.

There was nothing wrong with the Sabres, other than the fact that they’d taken
his
girl away from him. At least that’s how he chose to see it for the time being. It was far easier than admitting that he’d fucked up royally, a fact he was already keenly aware of though intermittently happily in denial of.

“Would be better if the eggs weren’t burnt,” she said with a shrug, breaking out in a giggle as Cannon gave her his best puppy dog look.

“You’re a cruel woman, Kimberley Thomas,” he sighed.

“Life’s made me that,” she quipped back.

“Listen, Kimmy, I think we need to talk,” Cannon began, seizing the moment when his brain wasn’t working at full function yet and thus less capable of fucking with his resolve of talking about the elephant, or the bear in the room, as it were.

She looked up at him, curiosity and worry in her eyes, but before she could say anything, Cannon heard a key being shoved into a lock and Heath storming in like it was D-Day and the cabin represented the beaches of Normandy. He arrived in the living room–kitchen with a flourish, breathing heavily and stinking of a heavy run, grinning wide.

“Cannon! Cannon’s glaring female friend! How nice to see you both in my house!” he said with a flourish, rounding into the kitchen side and yanking a mug off the tray by the sink, and pouring himself a big cup of coffee.

“I think you mean
our
house,” Cannon said with a grumble, mildly irritated as well as completely relieved that Heath had staved off his misery for later.