Brendon stood straight and glanced down at her. She was staring up at him from under the brim of her hat, her green eyes glittering. “Huh?”
“I believe you were the one who was gonna show me that you ain’t a boy. I’ve yet to see proof.”
His lips quirked as his disbelief consumed him. Was she propositioning him? Swallowing hard, he locked his eyes on hers. “Is this what you want? You need to be absolutely certain.”
Cheyenne nodded, not an ounce of hesitation in her reply.
“There’s no turnin’ back from here, Chey. Once we take this step, it’ll change things forever.” He didn’t say whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. Truth was, he really didn’t know. The temptation of her was greater than his willpower, but he knew that he had to think this through. All that they’d been through, the brief ground that they’d gained in the last week … Brendon didn’t want to lose that. But he also didn’t want to waste any more time. He knew exactly what he wanted.
And she was it.
chapter TEN
As far as Cheyenne was concerned, the only place this relationship she was forming with Brendon could go at this point was forward, and yes, this was a huge step, but not something that either of them hadn’t been expecting. Not that she was questioning her decision. She’d wanted Brendon since the day she met him. Her hormones hadn’t cared that she’d wanted him on her terms—without the sharing or the threesomes—she still wanted him. So for her, she’d waited long enough.
Add to that the fact that she hadn’t been with a man in three years … It was safe to say that she definitely wanted this. Like, right now.
“Show me,” she urged, using his own words against him.
Brendon’s eyes flashed hot and the next thing Cheyenne knew, he had her in his arms, one strong arm beneath her knees, the other under her back, and was making his way inside the house. He did his due diligence, ensuring Scrap followed them inside before closing and locking the door. Once that was done, he made a beeline for the stairs and Cheyenne held on for dear life. As they passed the kitchen, she thought about his comment about taking her on the counter. Then when she got a glimpse of the couch, she thought about his reference to bending her over and taking her there.
Her heart rate picked up.
Heavens.
She wanted him to do all those things to her.
And soon.
When he bypassed her bed and headed straight for the bathroom, she began to wonder what he was up to. Her question must’ve been written on her face because as he set her on her feet, he smiled. “Shower first.”
He didn’t have to tell her twice.
Knowing that getting the water temperature just right was a little tricky, Cheyenne turned to the faucets and twisted, setting them in the right position before turning back to Brendon.
He was leaning against the door, his arms crossed over his chest, the position making his biceps bulge. His heated gaze slowly caressed her from the top of her head down to her bare feet. A chill raced down her spine and it had nothing to do with the temperature in the room and everything to do with the way he practically undressed her with his gaze.
Proving to him that she wanted this, Cheyenne reached for the buttons on her shirt. Once she’d discarded the tattered denim, she pulled her tank top from the waistband of her shorts and lifted it over her head, sending it to the floor with the other shirt.
She noticed the way Brendon’s chest heaved and she wondered whether that was from the exertion—he’d carried her up the stairs after all—or if it were merely anticipation. Not that it mattered. He was still standing there, still watching her intently, which spurred her on.
Unhooking the button on her shorts, Cheyenne worked them over her hips and let them drop to the floor. When she was clad in only her bra and panties—a cute black set that she really liked and had purposely donned that morning in the very hopes that she might end up here, because yes, she’d been anticipating this moment for a long damn time—her nerves started to get the best of her.
“Damn,” Brendon said roughly, pushing off the wall and moving the two steps it took to reach her.
When his hands stroked her bare skin, the gentle rasp of his fingers as they grazed over her sensitive flesh had her drawing in a breath and goose bumps breaking out along her arms.
He pulled the hat from her head and set it on the sink before reaching behind her and removing the elastic holder from her hair. Cheyenne continued to watch his face, noticing the way he hesitated briefly.
Fearing he might retreat, based on the cautious glitter in his eyes, Cheyenne took over, pulling his shirt from his jeans and lifting it, wanting to get him naked so she could see every glorious inch of what was hidden beneath those clothes. She’d seen him once before—wearing nothing but a towel and a confused expression—when she’d shown up on his doorstep after his accident, and truth was, she’d fantastized about touching him, licking him, tasting every inch of his rock-hard body.