Page 50 of Devoted

He keeps one arm cradling me and uses his other hand to press mine against the wall by our heads. “Watch yourself come for me.”

And I do. I cry out his name as I watch my legs lock in a vise grip. My thighs must be crushing him. My lips part, first with a gasp, then to call his name. My voice bounces off the walls as I come apart in his arms.

I don’t take my gaze off us. His muscles strain when he releases inside me. It’s like a special show he’s putting on just for me. The moment is made even more special when he continues to hold me. He doesn’t pull out, and we don’t go about our normal routine of straightening clothing and getting dressed. It’s just us holding each other.

His hand is still anchored to mine against the wall. The timing seems perfect.

“I love you,” I say. As much as I want to be brave, I bite my lower lip. Is this the wrong time? Did I misread what we’re doing?

He lifts his head and looks me in the eye. “I’ve been in love with you for so fucking long.”

Happiness surges inside me. I press a kiss against his lips. “I was nervous you didn’t feel the same way.”

“Don’t be. Don’t ever doubt how I feel about you. You brought me back to myself, and that’s a gift I want to spend my life honoring.”

I brush my fingers down his cheek. “I’m a little messed up from my last relationship. I’m going to need you to be patient in that aspect.”

“Whatever you need, swan. You want me to back off and take you to dinner and kiss you on the doorstep when this is all over, I’ll do that. We’ll do the three-date thing before we sleep together again. I can go back to my shitty apartment and you can find your own shady place to live if you don’t want to live together.”

I don’t like the idea of waking up in bed without him, but the idea of twining my life with someone else’s makes my anxiety skyrocket. “I want to stay with you, but if we continue to grow more and more serious and my divorce goes through, I’m just— I’m not looking at another ring until I’m one-hundred-percent certain it’s the best decision for me, or for us.”

His smile is reassuring. “As long as I get to call you mine, I don’t care if you never want to get married again.”

Relief filters through my content body and drives away the tension that shouldn’t have been there after two orgasms. He releases my hand, and I circle my arms around him, in no hurry to go anywhere. Until I have an idea. “How about we take another bath together?”

Cannon

Penelope collapses by my side.We’re both breathing hard. It was an afternoon full of pleasure, turned into a sex-filled evening. After our bath, we grabbed a bite to eat, and then I dragged her to the bedroom. We’re both going to sleep well tonight.

I didn’t mean to jump her in the studio. Her comment about the mirror was the perfect excuse, a way to burn off all the emotions pinballing in my chest.

I danced again. It’s not ballet. I don’t know if I’ll ever go back to ballet, but it was exhilarating to dance again.

As she led me through the Viennese waltz, I learned the steps, but I wasn’t fully present. Question after question crammed into my skull. I wanted to know the history of the dance, who was the best at it, and if it was one of her favorites. I was hungry for information again. I didn’t want to learn about a subject just because I had to. A Viennese waltz isn’t part of a military mission, and it’s not a contract assignment. I wanted to know more about it than I had about anything in a long time.

The piece that has been missing for seventeen years clicked back into place the moment I became Penelope’s partner. The second I took a guess at how Juan Pablo would pose, that emptiness inside me was gone.

She rolls into my side and drapes her hand over my chest. “What are you thinking about?”

“That I just ravaged you for most of the day because of how it made me feel to dance again.” I marvel over how easy it is to be painfully honest with her. I’ve never had anyone in my life I could talk as openly to. My mom didn’t do emotions, and a part of me always suspected that my friendships were more about my name than who I was. Except for Karina.

“It’s complicated, and that’s okay.” She swirls her fingers over my chest. “You left ballet for a reason. Whether or not present-day Cannon agrees with the decision doesn’t mean it wasn’t the right one for eighteen-year-old Cannon.”

“I never thought about it like that.” Eighteen-year-old Cannon had been broadsided. He lost his best friend and the last shreds of his family at the same time. “I didn’t go to Karina’s funeral.” After nearly two decades of keeping the confession to myself, it’s like the pressure valve released. I failed Karina before she died, and I was still kicking her to the end.

Penelope raises herself on an elbow. “You were afraid her family would hate you?”

I nod. She said what I had a hard time verbalizing, and I’m grateful for it. Karina tried to tell me, but she was scared. I can recognize the signs now. I didn’t then. Just like I was naturally suspicious of anyone who wanted to be too friendly with me, she was suspicious that my loyalties would be with my mother no matter what. I should’ve asked her more.

“It might not have changed the outcome. You don’t know what was going on in her mind.” She flattens her hand on my chest. “You could have done all the right things, and she might still be gone. You can take only so much responsibility for someone else.”

I stare at the ceiling. Just a few minutes talking to Penelope and I have different viewpoints to consider. But a part of me will never accept that I wasn’t at fault.

As if sensing my conflict, she says, “That doesn’t mean you could have done all the right things and she would’ve been around today, happy and healthy. My point is you don’t know, and it’s a lot of pressure to put on an eighteen-year-old. It’s always easier to think back about what you should’ve done than it is to accept what you did in the moment.”

I stuff my hand behind my head and exhale. “Can I be a dick and give you the same advice when you think about twenty-year-old Penelope meeting an older, distinguished businessman?”

Her eyes widen, and she taps the middle of my chest with a finger. “No, you may not.”

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