Hopefully by then, all thoughts of Brendon would be exorcised from her brain. If not … well, then she doubted she was going to be all that useful.
“HEY. I’M HEADIN’ out.”
Brendon rolled over and pulled his pillow over his head, trying to block out the light of day and his twin brother’s cheery voice coming from the other side of his closed door.
He had no idea why Braydon bothered to stay at the house, considering the only thing he wanted to do was spend time with Jessie; but it didn’t seem to matter how much Brendon told him that he would be fine alone, Braydon didn’t appear to believe him.
Not that Brendon had put much conviction behind trying to convince Braydon to stay away. Fact of the matter was, he needed Braydon around. There was an odd sense of security that he had knowing that Braydon was close. Brendon had no idea whether that was the twin bond they shared or if it was just him being needy. According to his mother, he’d been like that since he was born.
Why he had to be the insecure one, he didn’t know. Regardless of the reason, he damn sure didn’t like it.
“Did you hear me?” Braydon hollered, his voice even louder than before.
“Fuck!” Brendon growled and rolled over once more. “I heard you. Go the fuck away.”
“That was all you had to say,” came his twin’s response, followed by a chuckle.
Brendon rolled his eyes and then smiled despite himself.
He heard the front door shut and knew he was alone with the exception of Scrap, who was currently twisted up in a blanket on the floor at the foot of Brendon’s bed, snoring. How the little mutt could sleep through Braydon’s obnoxious wake-up call was beyond him.
Brendon’s thoughts drifted back to Cheyenne and the kiss they’d shared in her kitchen the night before. Well, multiple kisses, to be exact. Multiple mind-blowing, earth-shaking kisses.
Lord have mercy.
Once again, the sweet, sexy country star had invaded his dreams, much as she had for the last … Shit. He had no idea how long he’d been dreaming about her, but it’d been a long damn time. Needless to say, the hard-on he now sported wasn’t strictly morning wood. Thanks to all the lascivious thoughts that ran through his head where Cheyenne Montgomery was concerned, it was a wonder his dick wasn’t stuck in a perpetual state of arousal.
He thought about what he’d told her last night. More importantly, the way she’d responded. He had fully expected her to be appalled at the way he’d spoken so candidly about all the things he wanted to do to her, but no, she’d seemed almost … willing.
Sliding his hand beneath the comforter, Brendon gripped his semi-hard cock in his fist and stared at the ceiling. As he began gliding his hand over his erection, he closed his eyes, bringing up an image of Cheyenne in his mind. All that tanned skin showcased in those short denim shorts and skimpy tank top. Last night, she’d been barefoot and so goddamn gorgeous, he still wasn’t sure how he’d kept his hands to himself at all, but now that mental image of her was one of his favorites.
Stroking his cock slowly, Brendon gave himself over to the many daydreams he’d had of her over the last couple of years. Oddly, these days, his fantasies no longer involved Braydon. No, these were just the two of them, him and Cheyenne alone. This particular one involved Cheyenne on her knees at his feet, looking up at him with wide eyes, an eagerness glistening in the molten green depths, while he held her hair, his cock tunneling in and out of her sweet, hot mouth.
Brendon teased the sensitive head of his cock briefly, then stroked again. Up, down. Up, down. God, he wished it was Cheyenne’s soft lips wrapped around his dick, sucking him into the furnace of her mouth, teasing his balls with her lips, her tongue, her fingers. It wasn’t long before his orgasm snuck up on him and he was reaching for the boxers he’d discarded last night to keep from making a mess on the bed.
“Fuck,” he moaned as he rolled over once his dick decided to settle down. It wasn’t that he was sated. Not by a long shot, in fact.
No, ever since the one night Brendon had given in and ventured out on his own to a hotel room with the pretty redheaded stranger he’d picked up at Moonshiners—back when Braydon had skipped town—he’d sworn off women altogether. His first and only one-on-one sexual experience with a woman had made his head whirl to the point that he hadn’t known how to deal with what he felt. The only company he had these days was his hand combined with his ever intensifying fantasies of Cheyenne. He wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to be able to do this. Although he came, his cock was once again thinking about Cheyenne, hardening despite Brendon’s need to ignore the damn thing.