Page 25 of Cannon
It’s somewherearound four thirty in the morning. I think. My brow furrows as my brain slogs through normal thought.Right.I have a watch. With a huff of silent laughter, I glance down at the timepiece on my wrist through blurry eyes. Yep, four thirty. And I can’t fucking sleep. Again. I roll my eyes at myself. Like I ever can. The only good sleep I’ve had lately has been with Elliot in my arms. But I don’t want to think about that right now.
Pouring myself another two fingers of whiskey, I sit down on my bed with her iPad on my lap. Was it rotten that after I’d watched Elliot tiptoe from her room, I’d snuck in and nabbed her iPad off her desk?Maybe.But she didn’t lock her door behind her when she left her room… I blow out a hard breath. I suppose in her haste to get toCannon’sroom, she’d forgotten.
Jealous fuck.The fact that I know she’s next door with my brother, that part doesn’t smartat all.I throw back my drink and immediately pick up the bottle from the table next to my bed and pour half a tumbler this time. Somehow, I feel like I’m going to fucking need it tonight. I’ll drink until I pass out. That’s the only logical answer. Never mind that I’ll be hungover as hell going to class tomorrow.
I groan, shutting my eyes, and rub my thumb and forefinger over them. I could fucking hear them through the wall earlier. Cannon’s rough grunts and Elliot’s sweet moans. The rhythmic, wet slapping of skin meeting skin.Christ.There is no way in hell those noises weren’t the soundtrack of some really spectacular fucking.
The whiskey buzzes through my head, making me feel loose-limbed. And horny. My dick has been half hard all night long. Right about now, I wish I had gone ahead with my original plan to install cameras in all the goddamn rooms. I wouldn’t have minded watching what was no doubt going on next door.
I should have gone in and joined the fun. But no. I let out a frustrated breath, rubbing the chilled tumbler over my forehead and letting the condensation cool my hot skin.
Fuck it.If I didn’t get to watch them, I can at least watch Elliot. I abandon the iPad for a moment in favor of heading over to my computer and pulling up the camera feed in Elliot’s room. I throw back more of the whiskey while I scan the footage, looking for when she got ready for bed earlier tonight.Ah, here we go.She knows damn well I have cameras in there, but that hasn’t stopped her from stripping down naked and wandering around her room before she fetches sleep shorts and a tank top from her drawer. She’s so fucking sexy. I can’t help but think of the time she spent in my bed. I loved how timid she was at first about sitting on my face… and then how she’d gotten into it, rubbing her dripping wet pussy on my face until she came. Fuck. I palm my dick, pushing him down. As much as I like to watch her, I’m too anxious tonight to jerk off. Don’t really know why.
I squint at the screen, seeing double. Maybe I’m just too keyed up thinking about her being right next door, yet I don’t know what they’re doing. Sleeping? Must be fuckin’ nice.
Or maybe it was something in the way Elliot’s been quiet lately. When I got home earlier, she hadn’t wanted to talk at all. Just nap. I can read her pretty well. I’d bet anything that the way she’s acting has less and less to do with her head injury, and more to do with what’s happening in this house. I believe it’s more about her desire to disassociate with the brotherhood because of what happened last weekend. Kingston mentioned it on the way to class this morning. He’s worried about her and her ability to proceed with her initiation if she doesn’t turn a corner pretty quickly.
I smirk to myself. Fucking Kingston. He’s gone and fallen for her. His protectiveness is starting to rival Cannon’s. Sure, it manifests itself differently, but it’s still all about him wanting to take care of her. Defend her from those who would harm her and keep her safe.
And if I’m not mistaken, he may have shared something of himself with her—and I’m certain that it has to do with Juliette. She may seem a little off lately, but Kingston? He’s actually been better since that day he spent home with her. And for that, I’m grateful. But there’s something else bothering me, tugging on the outer reaches of my brain. I simply can’t think right now. Too fucking drunk. I blow out a hard breath as I scrub my hand through my wild hair before getting back up and heading to the bed again.
I grab the top book on my nightstand and pull out the scrap of paper that I’d tucked there with the passcode to Elliot’s devices jotted down on it. Not as if I don’t have it fucking memorized. 1-0-0-3-2-1. No idea if it has any significance at all. I tap it in and bring up the texts sitting in iMessage. The thing about Elliot’s concussion is that the first few days after it happened, she was a little fuzzy and definitely not checking her messages, so it doesn’t surprise me when I see that there are notifications for a few of them that sit unread.
I bristle in anger as I glance through the first handful that I read the first night she was here. And boy, do they hit differently now that she’s not just some girl who showed up on our doorstep with an official invitation to go through our initiation. She’sourinitiate.MyPeaches.
The messages had started off fairly innocuous.
Baby, I’m sorry.
Please talk to me.
It didn’t need to end like that.
But a few days later, she hadn’t answered, and he got rude with her. I remember these, too.
Fucking answer me, Ellie.
You’re such a bitch sometimes.
Those were the last I’d seen and how I’d been able to tell K that he definitely was an ex, not anyone we needed to worry about. I’d intended to go back and read through any additional texts much sooner, but with everything erupting like a volcano, I simply hadn’t had time to check again. I grit my teeth. The next two texts had come in on the first day of class and have my brows raising at the audacity of this douchebag.
You think you’re too good for me now?
Don’t make me show up at your doorstep.
I dare him to fucking trythat.Elliot still hasn’t answered him, and I know she saw those texts.Good job, Peaches. Way to stand firm.I glance down through the remainder of the messages… these have come in just in the last few days. I don’t get the way this guy operates. He sends her nastygrams, then goes a week where he says nothing at all. It’s bizarre. What, did he leave her the rude messages… find some bitch to occupy him for a week, then when she dumped his stupid ass, he came crawling back to try to get Elliot’s attention again? What. The. Fuck.
Not cool at all in my book. Eyes blurry, I scroll down to read the rest.
You ignore me?
I’m going to fuck up your life.
I will make you hurt.
I will tell your dad where you are.
Yes, I fucking KNOW, you little frat boy whore.
