Epilogue
Cannon
Later that night
We barely make it into my bedroom before Willow’s hands are in my hair, pulling my mouth down to hers. I pin her against the wall, my body covering hers, claiming what’s mine.
“Bed,” she gasps between kisses. “Now.”
“Patience, sweetheart.” I trail my lips down her neck, tasting the sweet spot below her ear that makes her breath hitch. “I’ve waited three years for this. I’m taking my time.”
“Cannon Sawyer, if you don’t get me naked in the next sixty seconds—”
I silence her with a kiss that steals whatever threat she was planning. My hands slide under her shirt, palming the soft skin of her waist, her ribs, higher until I’m cupping her breasts through that lacy bra I’ve been fantasizing about since I caught a glimpse of it this morning.
“This,” I murmur against her mouth, flicking open the front clasp with practiced ease, “has been driving me insane all day.”
She arches into my touch, a soft moan escaping her lips. “Then do something about it.”
Challenge accepted.
I lift her easily, her legs wrapping around my waist as I carry her to the bedroom. She laughs in that bright, uninhibited sound I’ve fallen in love with as when I toss her on the bed.
“Romantic,” she teases, propping herself up on her elbows.
“You want romantic?” I pull my shirt over my head, watching her eyes go dark as they travel over my chest, my abs, lower. “I can do romantic. Candlelight, rose petals, the whole nine yards. Just like our first time.”
“Or...” She sits up, reaching for my belt buckle with those nimble fingers. “You could just touch me already.”
“Demanding little thing, aren’t you?”
“You have no idea.” She tugs me closer by my belt, her blue eyes full of heat and mischief. “But you’re about to find out.”
I help her with my jeans, stepping out of them while she shimmies out of her leggings. That leaves her in nothing but those pink panties—the ones that match her toenails, the ones I’ve been thinking about for days.
“These.” I trace the delicate floral pattern with one finger, feeling her shiver beneath my touch. “I told you I’d remember these.”
“Are you going to talk about my underwear all night, or are you going to—oh!”
I hook my fingers in the waistband and slide them down her legs, tossing them aside. Then I settle between her thighs, my hands spreading them wider.
“What was that, sweetheart? I didn’t quite catch what you said.”
“Liar.” But she’s smiling, her cheeks flushed, her breathing already unsteady.
“I love you, Sunshine.” I press a kiss to the inside of her knee, then higher. “Every inch of you.”
Her fingers tangle in my hair as I work my way up, kissing and tasting, learning what makes her gasp, what makes her squirm. When I finally reach the apex of her thighs, she’s trembling.
“Cannon, please—”
“I know, baby. I’ve got you.”
The first taste of her nearly undoes me. Sweet and perfect and mine. I take my time, using my tongue and fingers to drive her higher, watching her arch off the bed, listening to the increasingly desperate sounds she makes.
“That’s it,” I murmur against her. “Let go for me, Willow.”
She shatters, my name a cry on her lips, her body pulsing against my mouth. I work her through it, gentling my touch as she comes down, pressing soft kisses to her inner thighs.
When I crawl back up her body, she’s looking at me like I hung the moon.
“That was...” She trails off, apparently unable to finish the sentence.
“Just getting started.” I capture her mouth, letting her taste herself on my lips. Her hands roam my back, my shoulders, sliding down to cup my ass through my boxer briefs.
“These need to go,” she decides, pushing at the waistband.
“Bossy.”
“You love it.”
God, I do. I love everything about this woman—her sass, her strength, her sweetness, the way she looks at me like I’m something precious.
I shed my boxer briefs and reach for the nightstand, grabbing a condom. Willow takes it from me, her eyes locked on mine as she tears it open.
“Let me.”
Watching her roll it on with careful, deliberate strokes is the sweetest torture. When she’s done, she lies back, pulling me down with her.
“Make love to me, Cannon.”
I settle between her thighs, the head of my cock pressing against her entrance. “Look at me, sweetheart. I want to see your eyes.”
She does, those blue depths full of trust and desire and something that looks a lot like love.
“I love you, Willow Ridgemont,” I say as I push inside, slow and steady, giving her time to adjust. “I’ve loved you for so damn long.”
Her breath catches, her body stretching to accommodate me. “I love you too. So much.”
Once I’m fully seated, I pause, savoring the moment—the feeling of being joined with her, of finally having her exactly where I’ve wanted her for years.
“Okay?” I ask, watching her face for any sign of discomfort.
“Better than okay.” She lifts her hips experimentally, and we both groan. “Move, Cannon. Please.”
I start slow, deep strokes that have her gasping my name. Her nails dig into my shoulders as I pick up the pace, angling to hit that spot inside her that makes her cry out.
“Yes, right there—don’t stop—”
“Never stopping, baby. You’re mine now.”
“Yours,” she agrees breathlessly. “All yours.”
The words snap something inside me. I hook her leg over my shoulder, driving deeper, harder, chasing both our releases with single-minded focus.
“Touch yourself,” I command, my voice rough. “I want to feel you come around me.”
She obeys, her hand sliding between our bodies. The sight of her touching herself while I’m buried inside her nearly sends me over the edge.
“So beautiful,” I rasp. “My perfect girl.”
Her inner walls start to flutter, and I know she’s close. I lean down, capturing her mouth in a deep kiss as her orgasm crashes over her. The feeling of her pulsing around me, her muffled cries against my lips, triggers my own release.
I come hard, burying myself to the hilt, groaning her name as pleasure rockets through me.
We stay like that for a long moment, both of us trembling, our breathing ragged. Finally, I ease out of her carefully and dispose of the condom before gathering her against my chest.
“That was...” she starts.
“Yep.”
“We’re doing that again, right? Like, immediately?”
I laugh, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Give me ten minutes to recover, sass mouth.”
“Ten minutes? Navy SEAL stamina and you need ten whole minutes?”
“You’re lucky I’m not demanding twenty after what you just did to me.” I run my hand down her spine, loving how she shivers at my touch. “Besides, I want to savor this. Savor you.”
She props her chin on my chest, looking up at me with soft eyes. “I can’t believe this is real. That you’re finally mine.”
“Believe it, sweetheart. You’re stuck with me now.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.” I cup her face, my thumb brushing her cheek. “I’m yours, Willow. Today, tomorrow, forever. No more hiding how I feel. No more keeping my distance.”
“Good.” She kisses me, slow and sweet. “Because I plan on keeping you very, very close from now on.”
“Is that a threat or a promise?”
“Both.”
I flip her onto her back, hovering over her with a grin. “In that case, I think those ten minutes are up.”
Her laughter fills the cabin as I show her exactly how much I love her. Again. And again. And again.
Because now that I have Willow Ridgemont in my bed and in my life, I’m never letting her go.
***
Do Cannon and Violet ever get married? What would a Cannon Sawyer wedding even look like? Click this link for the BONUS EPILOGUE: Aubrey Kent's Newsletter Sign-Up.
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xoxo,
Aubrey
***
How did Violet start dating Bennett, anyway? Find out in Snowed-In with the Cowboy Billionaire, or keep reading for a Chapter 1 preview!
Chapter 1
My thumbs tap to Taryn Murphy’s latest country hit as I drive through the Montana countryside, my nerves crackling under my skin in a war that has nothing to do with the snow that’s begun to fall.
The heater blasts warm air against my chilled fingers, fighting back the bite of winter cold seeping through the windows.
I’m nervous, though I shouldn’t be.
I’ve been to Wildridge Falls many times in my life.
It’s the namesake of my great-great grandparents, who fell in love and raised their family right on the Montana homestead where the town now stands.
I even heard stories about growing up in Wilderidge from my Grandpa Wilder.
But I wasn’t brought up there. My grandpa met my grandma and followed her to Bozeman, because “that’s what men in love do. ” So that’s where I grew up.
These days, the Wilders and Ridgemonts are spread all over the country. But every year, the local families host a giant reunion, which is where I met my cousin, Willow. She’s the one who convinced me to pack up my life in Bozeman and buy half of her floral shop, Wildridge Stems & Blooms.
We’re a lot alike, so it wasn’t a hard decision. She’s an artist with a business minor, while I have a business degree with a graphic design minor. We even look alike—the same heart-shaped face, same blue eyes, same curly hair. The big difference is that my hair is dark blonde while hers is auburn.
The numbers were right, and for the first time in forever, I got excited about owning something of my own. My parents, although sad to see me go, supported the move. Wilderidge Falls is only a 90-minute drive away, and I’ll be living near family.
The snowfall is steady now, though it’s forecasted to taper off later this evening. It will be nice to walk along the river on my first night here. A memory flashes of me and my ex, walking the frozen path to Mammoth Hot Springs in Yellowstone, hand-in-hand, in awe of the landscape.