No Limits. Lori Foster

the muscles in his bared body flex as he closed the small amount of space left between them.

      She was hot, sweaty and suddenly mute.

      When he reached out, she flattened against the door and almost squawked, it so surprised her.

      “You’re afraid of me?”

      Her turn to scoff. “No, never.”

      Cannon paused for only a second before nodding with satisfaction. “Good.” Gently catching her hand, he tugged her forward and started toward the kitchen.

      Going along without complaint, Yvette tried to collect herself, but couldn’t.

      He was right—the back view was freaking awesome.

      Long muscles moved with each step he took. Water glistened on his shoulders. His still-wet hair sent a trickle down the deep furrow of his spine.

      And that little damp towel... How she envied it. Wrapped around his hips, it hugged his butt, showcasing the tight muscles there.

      A big bubble of heat popped inside her, flushing her whole body. “Mmm, what are we doing?”

      “Going into the kitchen.”

      “Why?”

      “We need to talk.” He looked over that boulder shoulder at her. “And I don’t want you sneaking off again.”

      “I didn’t sneak.” Liar. “I just went for my morning jog.”

      “For more than two hours?” Pulling out two vinyl-covered chairs from her grandfather’s refurbished kitchen table, he gestured for her to sit.

      Since her legs were quivering from exhaustion, ready to give out anyway, she dropped down.

      “I didn’t know you jogged.” His bright blue gaze moved over her, probably seeing her perspiration-soaked clothes and shiny, flushed skin. “Need something to drink?”

      She needed him to get some pants on before she fainted. “No, I’m fine.” Determined to be as blasé as him, she unhooked the belted purse from around her waist, removing the empty water bottle from the loop that held it, putting that and her cell phone on the tabletop.

      Cannon gave her a long look, turned to the refrigerator and took out an icy bottle of water. He unscrewed the cap and set it in front of her. “You’re pretty wilted. Drink up.”

      Wilted—what a nice way to put it. Reminded of how wretched she looked, she started to stand. “I need a shower.”

      A hand on her shoulder pressed her back. His tone even and cool, Cannon said, “Let’s talk first.”

      He literally loomed over her with all that naked flesh up close and personal. She was eye level with a small brown nipple, with the sparse dark hair on his chest. She could smell his soap and something more. Something hot and sexy and all male.

      Curling her hands into fists, she resisted the powerful urge to touch him. But that didn’t stop her from looking—at his throat, over his collarbone, those sculpted pecs...

      “You’re doing it again.”

      “What?” she breathed in a strangled whisper.

      His other hand flattened on the table beside her, caging her in. “Eating me up with those pretty green eyes.”

      She’d prefer to eat him up with her teeth, her tongue.... “Put on more clothes and I won’t stare!”

      Contentment showed in his eyes. “I will.”

      Thank God.

      “After we talk.”

      Trying to find her backbone, she straightened in the chair and put a hand to his chest—his hot, hard, naked chest—to lever him back a few inches. “You’re acting too familiar, Cannon.” She had to concentrate hard to keep her fingers from caressing. “Like we’re involved or something.”

      The second she touched him, he went still, then his eyes narrowed and his jaw flexed. “We’ve been involved for over three long years.” Too serious, he covered her hand with his, keeping it trapped against his body. His chest hair tickled her palm and made breathing harder still. “It doesn’t matter how long it’s been or how far away you were. There’s something between us.”

      Choking off a groan, she offered a compromise. “Tell you what.” Infusing a dose of reason into her tone, she said, “Get dressed while I shower and then we’ll—”

      “Not happening.”

      Why did he always have to sound so controlled and collected? “Does another fifteen minutes really matter?”

      “Does since you’ve been avoiding me. Given half a chance, you might take off again.”

      “Cannon...” She really, really needed him to back up enough to let her unclench. “You can’t expect me to do this with you naked!”

      Finally he stepped away, glanced down at himself, then tightened both the towel and his mouth. “Everything is covered.”

      “Actually...” Stop eating him with your eyes. “There’s still a whole lot of you showing.”

      His mouth didn’t smile, but, damn it, she could tell he enjoyed her extreme reaction.

      When he continued to watch her, she shifted her feet, tried crossing her arms, but there was no way to hide. “I am a miserable mess,” she muttered with embarrassment.

      “No,” he asserted, “you aren’t.” He dragged a chair over close to her and seated himself.

      In. A. Towel.

      With his knees almost touching hers, he looked at her legs, at her snug shorts and her damp, fitted tank top. “If you want the truth—”

      “I’m not sure I do,” she said in a hurry.

      “I can’t stop picturing you without the shirt and shorts.”

      His blunt admission left her blank. “Naked in running shoes?”

      His mouth quirked. “Okay, you can maybe lose the shoes, too.” His focus now on her chest, he continued. “And you know, I’m betting that sports bra didn’t do enough to stop some sexy bouncing.”

      “Cannon,” she groaned, raising her arms to wrap around herself.

      He caught her wrists, keeping her still. “It bothers me, thinking about all the guys who probably saw you jogging by and immediately started imagining more.”

      Her heart tried to punch out of her chest. “No one—”

      “Because that’s what I’m doing.”

      Though her mouth opened, nothing more came out. It took her three hard heartbeats before she thought to say, “Well, just stop it!”

      “I’ll try.” Releasing her, he said softly, “If you’ll stay and talk to me.”

      “But...”

      “It won’t take long.”

      “Neither would my shower,” she grumbled, starting to feel put out by his pushy manner.

      “Maybe. But with the way you keep dodging me, I don’t trust it.”

      That made her eyes narrow. “You mean you don’t trust me.”

      Shrugging, he rested his elbows on his thighs and let his hands hang loosely between his knees. “Close enough.”

      The insult should have taken precedence, but for a second there it looked as if he might lose the towel, and that annihilated every other thought. She held her breath, but no, it stayed put.

      “Yvette.”

      “You are so badly bruised.” She wanted to touch him, to somehow make his ribs better. He’d taken a vicious kick