My own orgasm peaks and I grip him tightly, crying into his ear with a single word—please! It’s enough to push him over the edge with me, and he pulses in me while my insides squeeze and shudder with pleasure.
He holds me close through every shiver, the nerves rolling from my shoulders down my chest and stomach and into my toes. I want to flatten our bodies together, to hold him here against me forever, to never let him leave the places where he is inside of me. And when the word slips out, I don’t even care or feel vulnerable because it’s mine to say when I feel like it, and I feel like it now.
“I love you,” I breathe out, the sudden confession not jarring him visibly as his breathing slows to normal and he holds me close, rolling so I’m on top and his body takes the weight and the bluntness of the ground.
The chill hits my skin, but the harshness is erotic for now, my body still feeling satiated and teeming with excitement from what we did, where we are, and how I feel right this very moment. I lift my head enough to look him in the eyes and he tucks his chin into his chest as his gaze sweeps around my face, his hand pulling a leaf from my tangled hair as he laughs. The quake in his chest is like a warm fire on a winter day.
His fingers comb through my hair a few more times until the strands are smooth enough for him to curl around his fingers. His eyes follow the movement as my hair slips through his fingers like golden ribbons and he brings one curl to the tip of his nose, drawing in the scent as if he’s trying to etch it into his memory. His focus slips from his own hands to my eyes as the strand slides free and falls back to the ground beside my face. His eyes soften and I tremble lightly, the breeze breaking through our lust and finally cutting into my skin. Sensing I’m cold, Cannon draws my arms into his protection, tucking most of my body within his before peppering my shoulder with kisses.
“There is not a single thing I don’t love about you, Hollis. Not one single thing.”
He rests his head flat against my chest, listening to my heart, maybe waiting for it to react. I’m glad he’s there, because he can make sure I’m still alive. I’m pretty sure my heart stopped with his words. Stopped, then exploded. I will walk this world as a ghost from here on out, one who feels as though she can do anything. Reborn a little stronger, moving from warrior to queen. If I can own Cannon Jennings’s heart, then there is nothing I can’t claim. And I want it all.
21
Cannon
Tryouts are closed to parents, but that hasn’t stopped my uncle from setting up in the parking lot. Everyone sees him. He’s the only truck sitting so close to the field. From the outfield, I spot him holding binoculars to his eyes as we run by for our cool down. I bet he’s proud and glowing right now. Zack had a decent day. He still wasn’t as solid as Hollis behind the plate, though.
A week ago I might have let my uncle’s presence change my mind from what I pledged to do today. But being with Hollis is a feeling I won’t trade for all the family loyalty in the world, especially when I don’t believe in the ideas my cousin and uncle preach.
Zack and I haven’t spoken since Friday night at the bowling alley. He was conveniently gone for the weekend, probably spending the night at Jay’s house. We both needed our space. It also let my parents arrive and get settled into the room I’ve been sleeping in while I slept alone in Zack’s. I doubt I will be welcome in there after today, but I talked things out with my dad, and we agreed that a few days on the floor in their room was worth it while my parents nailed down a rental.
My dad went through the same emotions I did when I told him everything. We both believe that Uncle Joel would draw the line at what my cousin did, but while my dad wanted me to sit down and tell my uncle everything last night when we talked, I convinced him it would be better to give the power to Hollis. This is her story to control, and I will echo and preach her gospel all damn day, but only when she says so.
Giving things a little nudge, however, might be called for. I had a teacher in junior high who used this technique with us. She called it flushing out the bad seeds, which, upon reflection, was probably a harsh way to categorize thirteen-year-olds. But we had some real assholes in my school, including the Hayworth twins who ditched their last hour to steal bikes, then put them up for sale online the same day. She flushed them out by sitting everyone down and showing a slideshow of used bikes for sale, all posted within the last month. They needed a little extra heat, so she called the number posted on one of the ads. Lo and behold, Kale Hayworth’s phone lit up like a restaurant buzzer. Their mini chop shop ended real fast.
I’m not going to put the screws on like Mrs. Reed did back then. But I am going to set up a community standard that won’t
