Cheyenne knew this was the moment she had to be truthful with him. She needed to tell him, needed to make sure he knew.
“I want to …” The words died off before she could get them out. As much as she wanted to tell him that she wanted him for the duration, was willing to realign her entire life to make that happen, she couldn’t get the words past the lump in her throat. So she said, “I want you to make love to me, Bren. That’s the only thing I want.”
There was a sadness in his eyes that she’d never seen before and Cheyenne wasn’t sure whether that was because he hadn’t heard what he wanted to hear or if it was because he didn’t want her to get hurt when he did walk away. Either way, she wanted this. Even if it was the last time.
Brendon swung his legs up on the bed and rolled to his side, hovering slightly above her. Cheyenne kept her gaze focused on his face, admiring the stormy blue of his eyes, the hard lines of his unshaven jaw. Reaching up, she let her fingers caress the rough stubble, her fingertips grazing his lips. The uncertainty she saw in his eyes mirrored her own and broke her heart.
He cupped her face with his hand, turning her head and meeting her lips with his. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled him to her, the heavy weight of his body over hers a lifeline she latched on to and never wanted to let go of. She’d never felt safer with anyone than she did with him.
Never.
She was naked beneath the blanket, and getting Brendon out of his jeans wasn’t difficult after she’d worked her hand inside, stroking him with her palm. After he’d shed them, he returned to the bed, pushing the blankets down and off her before crawling over her.
Cheyenne wanted to feel him inside her. She didn’t need foreplay, didn’t need anything other than the welcoming warmth of his body.
He must’ve read her mind because Brendon’s lips met hers, his tongue sliding into her mouth, slowly, sensually, and then he was forcing her legs wider, pushing inside her in one gentle thrust.
Moaning against his mouth, she bent her legs, bracing them along his hips as she wrapped her arms around his neck. The kiss continued, as did the tender way he made love to her, pressing deep, circling his hips, awakening every nerve ending in her body.
Breaking the kiss, Cheyenne breathed his name, locking her eyes with his as the sensations began to crash through her.
“You’re so beautiful, Chey,” Brendon whispered, his hips continuing to undulate, locking him inside her, driving her absolutely wild.
Brendon shifted, forcing one of her legs down, changing the angle of his penetration as he propped himself on his forearms, bringing their bodies closer. She heard the creak of the headboard when he gripped it, using it to pull himself forward, rocking his hips as he did, forcing himself deeper. It was exquisite, being crushed beneath him, his chest pressing against her breasts with every breath they took.
He didn’t change the pace, continuing to make love to her for what felt like hours. Wishing it would never end, Cheyenne knew that wasn’t possible. This was a sweet devastation unlike any she’d ever known, he was unintentionally wrecking her heart for anyone else. Without a doubt, Cheyenne knew she would always belong to this man.
Always.
BRENDON CONTINUED TO bury his cock in the sweet warmth of Cheyenne’s pussy, forcing himself as deep as possible. He could go all day if she’d let him, never tire of being balls-deep inside her. Never in his life had he felt this … this inexplicable flurry of sensation that started in his chest but radiated throughout him like a brilliant light, touching all the darkness inside him. It was brutal and sweet all at the same time.
When he’d awoken that morning, he’d slipped out of bed so as not to wake Cheyenne. After making coffee and letting Scrap out to do his business, Brendon had sat on the back porch for a while, trying to gather his thoughts. Three times he’d come in to check on Cheyenne, wanting to make sure she was safe. He’d been reassuring himself more than anything. He didn’t want to be away from her, but he’d been edgy, restless.
Now, as he thrust into her, her softness against all of his hardness, he wasn’t sure he was going to survive this intact. Making love to her was the most exquisite form of torture he’d ever experienced. The possibility that they wouldn’t be doing this for the rest of their lives was what had Brendon’s chest constricting. He loved her. He’d told her as much, but he wasn’t going to be the one to hold her back from doing what she loved.
Knowing Cheyenne—which he did—she would find a way to take care of him, and that wasn’t what he wanted. She cared so deeply for others that she often didn’t put herself first. And for Brendon, no one would come before her. Ever.