Page 38 of Devoted

His words explain me perfectly. His simple statement explains everything I’ve been feeling since I was a kid. It’s why I’m drawn to dance. For the length of a song, I can express myself. I can choose the tone. I can be sultry, seductive, melancholy, or fiery—all emotions I wasn’t allowed to exhibit off the dance floor.

I was the compliant kid. My parents argued so much that I couldn’t bear to be just another subject they yelled at each other about. I went to private school and was told I should be nothing but grateful. It didn’t matter whether the teachers were fair or unfair, engaged or unengaged, caring or uncaring. I couldn’t complain. And then there was Roman. No emotion was safe around him.

Cannon gives me a safe place to let it all out. And we have the house to ourselves. My moan is loud and my whimpers bounce off the walls, but I don’t hold back.

He adjusts his position to thrust a finger inside while thrumming my clit. Water splashes the side of the bathtub as I move to match his stroke.

“Come for me, swan. Let me hear you.”

I slam over the peak and shout his name, letting it echo. The parts of my body that are out of the water are chilled, but I don’t notice. The rest of me is fever hot.

I want to collapse against him, but he’s moving me, maneuvering us around until I’m on my knees with my hands braced on the edge of the tub. I arch my ass into him, and he shoves inside. There is no pause, no taking a second to acknowledge the magnitude of the moment, how comfortable we are together that we can go from laughter to sex in seconds, but this doesn’t feel any less significant. Each time with Cannon feels like it’s looping another thread around the connection that’s always been between us.

I tighten my grip on the side of the tub. He pounds into me. This time he’s taking. He’s gotten me off, and it’s my turn to get him off. Reciprocate.

I close my eyes and enjoy the stroke of his hard length and the way he fills me in every way. I love his grunts and the low groans he makes. I love how he puts everything into having sex with me. He doesn’t hold back. He shares himself. He doesn’t know how important that is to me.

I support both of us when he comes, his roar overtaking the sound of water splashing onto the floor.

He drapes himself over me and peppers kisses along my shoulder blades. “Swan?”

“Yeah?” I say, breathless.

“Is it time to admit I can actually make a pretty decent omelet?”

Cannon

“I’m goingout of my mind here,” I tell Jacobi.

It’s been nothing but sex and making meals together and laughing and talking for three days. Which would be heaven if she didn’t have a psychopathic human-smuggling ex lurking in the background. Each day that goes by, my hackles rise higher. My stress level ratchets up more. Roman’s not a man to sit around and do nothing. He knows I have her. The divorce is still processing. And he’s going to suspect we know more than that he’s just a shady husband who tried to kill his wife.

“You hear back from Jackson?”

“No, and I won’t either. He’s a regular Boy Scout.” Jackson told me when we were deployed that he was an Eagle Scout. Even worse. “I know we did the right thing, but the legal system is slow as hell. What if they take years? Penelope’s in danger the whole time.”

“She’s only in danger as long as the divorce takes.”

“Unless we can cancel the life insurance.” I know fuck all about legal issues, but if the two hundred million insures Penelope’s life, she should be able to cancel it.

“That would take a legal team, but it could be arranged.”

Penelope can barely afford her lawyer and she doesn’t have income, but between me and my friends, we can figure something out. “No one who’s ever worked with Roman.”

“Or that can be bought by him.” He pauses. “That might be harder than we think, my friend.”

“Maybe when Penelope contacts the lawyer, it’ll push Roman’s hand. He might decide it’s better to drop her than risk getting busted.”

“I dunno, man. Two hundred million’s a lot of money, even for a guy like Roman.”

I hate the truth of it.

“Is it that bad?” he asks. “Being stuck with her?”

It’s that fucking good. All it’s doing is showing us what we could have if it wasn’t for Roman fucking Hughes. “She’s missing out on her life while he’s coming and going wherever the fuck he pleases. What if he leaves the country and doesn’t come back?”

“You want to take care of this yourself?”

If it were just me, yeah. I’m good, but with all the facets around freeing Penelope, I’m not that good. I’d need Jacobi and Kase—and they’d do it. But I don’t want to chance landing them in jail…or worse. I wouldn’t do that to them or to Penelope. “No. This has got to be done by the books. But can you check on the insurance angle? If she’s not a payday, maybe he’ll divorce her quicker.”

---