Cannon (A Step Brother Romance #3)

"No?" I repeat the word, making sure I hear her correctly, but I don't let go of her hair.

Addy lets out a whimper, and I note the expression on her face as she struggles internally with what she wants. "Hendrix, I..."

"I think the answer is yes, Addy," I whisper. "I think every part of you desperately wants me to show you what you keep trying to steal glances at."

"I don't," she says, her protest barely audible.

"I think you do," I say. "I think you want to wrap those sweet lips of yours around it. I think you want to know how it feels to come on me. Say the word, Addy, and I'll show you."

She swallows hard, looks at me, deliberating. Then she opens her mouth, and I swear that if she says yes, I'll rip her panties off and fuck her against this wall right now without a second thought, without giving two shits about what the hell the consequences are. When she finally speaks, her voice is hoarse. "No," she says, shaking her head.

I hear the word but for a second it doesn't register, and then it does. Shit. Numbly, I let go of her hair, and she stumbles backward a step, shaking her head.





SIX YEARS AGO


"It's okay," I say. Hendrix looks pissed off. I'm standing in the driveway, my purse slung over my shoulder, holding my study guide for the driving test and my cell phone. I've been waiting here for him, flipping my phone open over and over, opening it in sets of threes, nervous that I'm going to miss the test. "I can just schedule it for another time. I didn't mean to make you leave school early."

"What the hell are you apologizing for?" Hendrix asks, his tone gruff. "Get in my fucking car. Now."

On the way to the department of motor vehicles, Hendrix grills me. "Your mother was going to take you, wasn't she? Didn't she make this some big parenting thing? She wanted to be there for you or some bullshit?"

"Yeah," I say. "I'm sorry I had to ask you, Hendrix."

"I told you to stop with the damn apologies," he says.

"I tried Grace, but she didn't answer. I think she's with her boyfriend."

"It's no big deal," he says. "I was just going to fuck around after school with my friends anyway. What the hell do I care?"

I look at him and he shrugs and runs his fingers through his hair. It's half-shaved, and he pierced his lip last week. "Are you wearing eye liner?"

"Shut the fuck up," he says. "It's fashion."

I snort. "Yeah, sure. You want to borrow my mascara, too?"

"Okay, smartass. What do you know about fashion?"

"Uh, I'm practically a movie star."

"You're a country singer," he says. "You're not anywhere near movie star status. And no, your music videos don't count. At all."

"Whatever, dude," I say.

"Dude?" he asks, slowing down at a stoplight. "What are you, a surfer chick or something?" He looks at me. Yep, he's wearing eyeliner. I knew it. Whatever crowd of friends he's hanging around with think they're too cool for everyone and everything. He brought them over before, and I didn't like them. But really, eyeliner?

"Shut up."

"Awesome comeback, dude," he says, squeezing my leg. When he touches me, I feel a jolt of electricity run through my body, just like it does every time he accidentally brushes me, or puts his arm around my shoulder the way a brother would. But Hendrix is my brother, and nothing more, I remind myself.

I look away, out the window, distracting myself by tapping on the side of the passenger door with the tip of my finger while I count the telephone poles on the side of the road as we drive past them.

Hendrix is silent for a few minutes. "Are you worried about the test?"

I shrug. "Not really," I lie. I'm totally nervous. "I mean, I'm scared of the parallel parking part of it, I guess. What if I hit another car?"

"I think they use cones, not cars. Otherwise everyone would be denting vehicles," he says. "Are you pissed about your mom missing the test? I would be."

"I should have just asked you to plan to take me in the first place," I say. "I should have known she wouldn't follow through."

"Did they say where they were going?" Hendrix asks.

"Your dad had some gig in Alberta, I think."

"Canada?"

"I don't know," I say, shrugging. "I guess. They just took off. They left a note. I was with the tutor." At least Hendrix gets to go attend regular public school, even if he'd had to go to military boarding school for a while. After he got kicked of the academy, his dad said he wasn't paying for anything else and Hendrix could "learn the hard way." I don't know what is so hard about public school, though; Hendrix seems to be having lots of fun. Lots of fun with lots of girls. At least, that's what I've heard.