Title: CANNON : A STEP-BROTHER ROMANCE
Author: SABRINA PAIGE
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: June 2, 2015
Cover Model: Stephen Hughes-Landers
Photographer: Shauna Kruse, Kruse Images & Photography
Cover Artist: Cormar CoversYou might think you've heard every story of forbidden love. But you haven't heard ours.
Hendrix "Cannon" Cole is a damaged, sexy-as-hell ex-Marine. He's also my stepbrother.
I'm a country singer in the spotlight.
Our history is complicated. I used to hate him. Then I loved him. Then I hated him again.
When he joined the Marines five years ago, I thought he was gone forever.
Now he's back.
I have everything to lose. He has nothing left.
The heat between us is explosive.
And both of us may wind up getting burned.
"Don't say what?" he asks, his voice low. "That my fingers were down your panties? Would you rather I say that I was touching your p*ssy?"
"Hendrix," I whisper. "You can't talk to me like that."
"Or what?" His mouth is close to my ear, and he trails one finger up my arm and traces the outline of my shoulder before he slowly runs it up the side of my neck. I'm so on edge, so wanting, that I think I might cry. "What are you afraid of, Addy?"
"You," I whisper. It's the only word I can choke out. I don't say all of the other things going through my head, the things I want to say.
I'm afraid that everything I've worked for will be destroyed.
I'm afraid of falling for you all over again.
I'm afraid you'll rip my heart to shreds, the way you did when you left.
I'm afraid you'll break me.
But that word, "you," is enough for Hendrix. The look he gives me is practically feral. He makes a sound, deep in his throat, and I think if he kisses me again, he'll destroy us both. I want him to kiss me again. But instead, he pauses, his hand on the back of my neck. "Drop the towel."
"What?" All I can feel is the warmth from his hand, radiating heat from his palm through my body and pooling between my legs. I'm a raw nerve, a bundle of need and desire, and as much as I want him to go, more of me wants him to stay. All of me wants him to pick me up and f*ck me against the wall, right now.
Hendrix groans, as if he can read the dirty thoughts that are running through my head. "Drop the towel," he repeats, his voice gruff and gravely.
"What are you doing?" I choke out the words, my palm on his chest to push him away, but instead I end up sliding my hand over his chest and down his rippled abdomen. His hardness presses against his jeans, and all I can think about is how he would feel inside me.
"Are we both going to pretend you're not aching for me?" he asks. "That you're not soaking wet with the thought of having me inside you?" He reaches underneath the towel, between my legs, and touches me gently with the tip of his fingers. His touch nearly makes me melt.
"I'm not sure this is a good idea, Hendrix," I say, protesting, but weakly. My resolve isn't just weak. It's non-existent.
He pins my wrists to the wall above my head, holding them there firmly with one hand while he traces my lips gently with one finger. "This is definitely not a good idea, Addy," he whispers, his finger moving slowly down the front of my chest to my cleavage. "This is the worst f*cking idea in the world."
"We should be reasonable," I say.
"I've never been a reasonable man," he says, stepping back and surveying me. "Now, take off the damn towel."
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