Brendon (25 page)

chapter
THIRTY

T
he next morning, Cheyenne woke alone and instantly her heart cracked open, the stress from the night before not helping the amount of anxiety that coursed through her veins. It was the first time in nearly a month that Brendon hadn’t been the first thing she saw when she woke up. He’d been there when she had finally drifted off to sleep only a few hours ago, so she figured he wasn’t far. At least she hoped he wasn’t.

Now that all the shit with her stalker was behind them, she had to wonder whether this thing between them would fizzle out and die. For her, that wasn’t likely to happen, but she didn’t know what Brendon was thinking or feeling. Last night, when they’d fallen into bed, Cheyenne had been desperate for him to make love to her, but he’d had other plans. Rather than give her a memory to replace all the horrors of the day, Brendon had merely held her close and rubbed her back until she fell asleep.

It was as though he was already drifting away, and for the life of her, she didn’t know what to do to keep that bond between them. Cheyenne didn’t want to lose him. Hell, she’d just come to terms with the fact that she loved him.

She’d even considered modifying her entire world to accommodate him. She’d replayed her conversation with Zoey in her head a time or two, and though her friend seemed to think Brendon might be open to her continuing with her music career, she’d somehow managed to brace herself for the alternative just in case.

“Our lives don’t mesh all that well. Well, right now bein’ an exception.”

“You mean your life on the road?”

Cheyenne nodded.

“But you said you loved him.”

“I know. But that doesn’t mean I can just call a halt to my career and spend all my time here.”

“Whoa there, Nelly. What’re you talkin’ about?”

“He wants to be here. It’s where his life is.”

“And what makes you think Brendon wouldn’t compromise?”

Truth was, she wanted Brendon more than she wanted anything else. She didn’t necessarily want him to be the one to compromise. She’d never known this all-encompassing feeling that warmed her from the inside out when she thought about him. And she wasn’t sure she could tolerate spending any time away from him. Being on the road for days on end, only talking to him on the phone . . . It wouldn’t be enough. She wanted to spend every night in his arms, wake every morning to him beside her.

Releasing a shuddering breath, Cheyenne squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to cry. She didn’t know what his plans were and until they hashed that out, she had no reason to be upset.

“Mornin’.”

Cheyenne turned her head toward his voice, seeing Brendon standing in the doorway, his hands on the jamb above his head, his long, lean body stretched as he stared over at her, and her body awakened.

God, the man was gorgeous. Desire stirred in her core.

“Mornin’,” she replied, forcing a smile.

“I was hopin’ you’d sleep for a while.”

“What time is it?” Cheyenne inquired, not bothering to look at the clock.

“Six.” Holy crap. They hadn’t gone to bed until nearly two.

“What’re you doin’ up so early?” she asked.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“I’m sorry,” she said immediately.

Brendon released his grip on the jamb and moved toward her slowly, their eyes locked. “There’s nothin’ for you to apologize for, Chey.”

“Isn’t there?” she questioned irrationally, her emotions churning inside her as she stared at him.

“No,” he reiterated, joining her on the bed.

She noticed that he didn’t touch her, didn’t get close enough for her to touch him.

“What do we do now, Bren?” she asked when the silence thickened, making her stomach knot.

“About what?” he asked.

“About us.”

Brendon didn’t answer, but she hadn’t really expected him to. The guy had always been a closed book. At least until recently. She felt as though she knew more about him now than she knew about any man from her past. What they’d been through these last two years had given her decent insight into why Brendon did what he did, but the man she’d gotten acquainted with these last few weeks wasn’t anything remotely like the guy she’d known before.

“Now that this is over, does that mean we are, too?” she asked, her voice shaky with her trepidation. If the answer was yes, she certainly didn’t want him to tell her.

Brendon’s eyes slid down to his hands. “I don’t know what it means, Chey.”

Tears threatened, but Cheyenne managed to hold them in. She didn’t want Brendon to see her cry. Not about this. She was strong enough to endure this should he decide he didn’t want to be with her. Was it what she wanted? Absolutely not. But she’d learned through the years just how much she was capable of enduring. Recent events had solidified that.

“What is it that
you
want?” Brendon asked, his gaze lifting to meet hers once again.

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.

“Brendon, oh, yes.”

Cheyenne’s whispered words had his dick hardening more, his balls drawing up against his body. He wanted to come deep inside her, to fill her, claim her, possess her. He wanted to
own
her.

But he didn’t want to hurt her. Not in any way. After all she’d been through recently, Cheyenne deserved to be the one in full control. She deserved to be the one to take the reins of her life and make her own decisions. As much as he wanted to convince her that her life should be with him, he knew that was selfish.

Even if he was willing to do whatever it took to be with her. If she wanted to go out on the road, he’d gladly go with her. Hell, he’d follow her to the ends of the earth if that was what it took.

Brushing her hair from her face with one hand, Brendon gazed down at her. “I love you, Chey.” He’d never loved anyone the way he loved her. This was foreign and new and . . . perfect.

“I love you, too,” she said on a breathless moan as he thrust into her harder.

“Tell me again,” he whispered, pressing his lips to her ear. “I want you to come for me and tell me you love me, Chey.”

Without changing the relatively slow pace, Brendon tilted his hips, forcing himself deeper until Cheyenne’s fingernails were clawing into his back.

“Oh, God, Brendon,” Cheyenne moaned softly, her pussy clamping around his cock. “I’m gonna come.”

“Tell me, Chey,” he commanded, keeping his voice low, but his tone insistent. “Tell me you love me.”

“I . . .” Cheyenne’s body tensed, her arms locking around him as her orgasm gripped her. “I love you, Brendon. I love you with all that I am.”

Brendon’s heart swelled in his chest and he pumped his hips several more times, letting her milk his release from him. And when he came, he peered into her eyes, willing her to see every ounce of what he felt for her.

He only prayed it was enough.

chapter
THIRTY-ONE

A
fter showering and getting dressed, Cheyenne was greeted by Brendon in the kitchen, where he had coffee waiting for her.

“Thank you,” she said, taking the mug he held out to her. “I was wonderin’ . . .”

Brendon’s eyebrows lifted as he sipped his coffee.

“Would you mind goin’ with me to see my grandmother today? It’s only about a four-hour drive, tops. We could stay in a hotel, come back in the mornin’? Be here for Sunday dinner with your folks.”

“I’d love to,” he said, his eyes softening somewhat.

Cheyenne had been witness to his turmoil earlier when they’d made love. Although it had been the most intense thing she’d ever felt, she knew there was some underlying emotion—something they were both dealing with—that neither of them were comfortable talking about.

It was inevitable, they had to figure this out, but maybe if he got to meet someone in her family who wasn’t batshit crazy, it would help to ease this tension between them.

TWO HOURS LATER,
they were on the road, Brendon driving her truck because it got better gas mileage than his. Cheyenne had packed an overnight bag, they’d gone to Brendon’s house so he could do the same, and then they had dropped Scrap off with Sawyer and Kennedy with brief instructions that they’d be back tomorrow. Now they were on the way.

“Tell me what it’s like on the road,” Brendon prompted when they hit US-183 north.

“When I’m on tour?” she asked, glancing over at him.

“Yeah.”

“It’s . . . sometimes lonely,” she admitted. “I’ve got my own personal bus, but the only person I allow on it is my assistant, Mindy. There’s another bus for my band.” Thinking back on her last trip, Cheyenne found she didn’t miss it nearly as much as she thought. The people, yes. The endless hours of solitude, not so much. “We’re always on the move. One city to the next. When I was on tour with Dalton and Cooper, they’d insisted on goin’ home a lot.”

“It’s that easy?” he asked.

Cheyenne smiled at him. “Nothin’s easy. However, when those two want somethin’, not many people argue with them. It gets easier as your career’s established. I have more options these days than I did in the beginning. At first, I would take whatever was tossed my way, my sole goal being to get my name out there, get people to hear my songs.”

“And now?” Brendon’s gaze darted over to her quickly before returning to the road.

“And now I’d like to think I have more input. If I don’t want to do somethin’, I won’t.”

There was silence in the truck for a few minutes and Cheyenne began to wonder whether she had said something wrong, but then Brendon asked a question that caught her completely off guard.

“The other day, you told Zoey and Kaleb that you weren’t ready to settle down. Care to elaborate on that?”

Cheyenne swallowed hard. It was truth time.

“What’s your definition of ‘settle down’?” she questioned. If they were going to have this conversation, Cheyenne wanted to make sure they were on the same page.

“I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “Get married, start a family.”

“Then no, I’m not ready,” she answered honestly, watching his reaction.

Was that disappointment she saw on his ruggedly handsome face? Was that what he wanted? Now?

“But hear me out,” she tacked on.

“What’s there to explain?” Brendon questioned abruptly. “If you’re not ready, you’re not ready. It’s pretty simple from where I sit.”

She could hear the frustration in his tone and she had the overwhelming urge to soothe him, to calm him down. Twisting slightly in her seat so she could see him better, Cheyenne cleared her throat before she spoke. “Do I want to get married? Absolutely. Do I want to have kids? You betcha. Do I want all those things today? No. But unless that’s what you’re askin’ me, I don’t think you can get mad, Bren.”

“I’m not mad,” he retorted harshly.

“No? Sure sounds like it to me.”

Brendon sighed. “No, I’m not askin’ you to marry me, Cheyenne.”

She couldn’t deny the disappointment that flooded her, although she didn’t understand it. She’d told him she wasn’t ready.

He took his eyes off the road and momentarily looked at her. “Yet.”

Her heart picked up a crazy beat in her chest. “Yet?”

“Yeah,” he said directly, his attention once again on the road in front of them.

“Cheyenne, I’ve never told another woman that I loved her.”

“Never?” she asked, although she sensed he was telling the truth. She’d known about his unconventional relationships, she remembered how freaked out he’d been when Braydon did fall in love. So yeah, she believed he’d never told another woman.

“Never. Because I’ve never been in love with a woman. Not until you.”

Cheyenne didn’t know what to say to that, so she didn’t respond to the statement, instead choosing to ask a question of her own. “What about you? Are you ready to settle down?”

“Yeah.”

His answer came so easily, Cheyenne was actually shocked. “Really?”

“Really. With you, Cheyenne.”

He surprised her when he took her hand in his, linking their fingers together. “I’m thirty-one years old, Chey. I’m not gettin’ any younger.”

The smile that tipped his lips lit up his entire face and Cheyenne couldn’t help but laugh. “Now that I think about it, you are kinda old, camo boy.”

“Exactly,” he agreed.

“I was kiddin’,” she said sternly.

“I know, but I’m not.”

The silence lingered once again and Cheyenne wondered if he expected her to say something, but then he spoke up.

“Chey, now that the stalker fiasco is behind us, I want to take the next step. Whatever that is. I’ll do whatever it takes. If you aren’t ready to settle down, then I’ll . . .”

Cheyenne wanted to know what he was going to say, but he didn’t finish his sentence, leaving her hanging by a thread. “You’ll what?”

“I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you. I think I’ve known since the day I met you that you were it for me. I didn’t deal with it well, but I think I’ve known it. Does that mean it’ll be easy? Probably not. Since we have two very different lives, I’m sure it could get rather difficult. But I’m willin’ to stick it out if you are.”

Cheyenne squeezed his fingers and swallowed hard.

“I want that, too,” she told him. “I want to be with you. Truthfully, it scares me to think of goin’ back on the road and leavin’ you. I want both, and I know that’s selfish.”

“It’s not selfish, Chey.”

“It is,” she stated adamantly. “I could never ask you to spend so much time away from your family. It’s not fair.”

“But we can work it out. We’ll find a way that works for both of us.”

She wanted to assure him that it would all work out, but she really didn’t know if that was true. As much as she wanted it to be, they really were two different people.

That didn’t mean she wasn’t ready to give it a go.

Truth was, she loved him. And she’d never thought it possible, but that meant more to her than anything else. Including her career.

BRENDON HATED HIMSELF
for bringing up the subject, but the internal war that was waging had been too much for him to deal with. They were alone in the truck, with at least three hours of driving left ahead of them, and he hadn’t known what else to talk about. Either they bust out the difficult conversation, or they’d resort to the game of Twenty-One Questions once again. He figured—despite the weight of the topic—this was better than telling her whether he wore boxers or briefs—which she already knew at this point anyway.

But now he had to wonder whether he’d gone too far. Wanting to tell her what he felt and actually doing it were two frighteningly different things. However, he had jumped in with both feet and now she wasn’t saying anything.

Needless to say, he was beginning to panic.

The only good thing was that she was still holding his hand. Not that he was going to let her go anyway. He needed to touch her, to be touched by her. If he had his way, he’d just pull over on the side of the road, recline his seat back and let her perch right there on his dick just so he could feel connected to her.

He didn’t figure that was any way to conclude this discussion, so he forced his dick to heel.

It wasn’t listening.

And now he had the image of her riding him and he was aching to feel her wrapped around him.

Glancing at the navigation, he realized they still had two hours and forty-five minutes to go.

Fucking fantastic.

THOSE TWO HOURS
and forty-five minutes were the longest minutes of his life. The company had been stellar, but his dick had been hard since his first fantasy of taking her in the truck. Now that they were entering the nursing home, that was no longer an issue, but he was more than eager to get her back to the hotel.

Hell, maybe he’d take her in the parking lot before they went in.

Shaking the thoughts from his head, Brendon followed Cheyenne to the front desk, where a young woman sat waiting for them to approach. Her eyes widened, recognition dawning, and Brendon wondered if Cheyenne had meant to leave her disguise at home.

“Ms. Montgomery, it’s so good to see you,” the woman said.

Obviously she knew who Cheyenne was, so the disguise probably wouldn’t have mattered.

“Hi, Jane. I wanted to come see my grandmother.”

“Sure,” Jane replied. “If you’ll just sign in.”

Brendon grinned. Signing in was practically an autograph and he wondered if the young woman even realized that. She probably did.

“Is she in her room?” Cheyenne asked after filling out the required information.

“She is. I know she’ll be happy to see you.”

Cheyenne smiled and then took Brendon’s hand, leading him through an open waiting area that looked like a homey hotel lobby, where a few elderly people sat, along with what appeared to be family members. They continued to a set of double doors. Cheyenne tapped a button on the wall and the doors swung inward, allowing them entrance.

Once they were on the other side of the doors, Brendon noted that the décor was more sterile, less inviting. The white walls were lined with brown doors, the fluorescent lights overhead shining brightly on the large white tiles on the floor. A nurse’s station sat at the point where four hallways met. As Cheyenne passed, she greeted an older woman sitting at a computer, waving as they turned right down another long hallway.

Cheyenne stopped at one of the doors and glanced up at Brendon before knocking lightly.

There was no answer on the other side, but Cheyenne entered anyway.

Brendon followed her into the room and closed the door behind him.

“Grams?” Cheyenne said softly.

The older woman in the bed was tiny—like Cheyenne. No bigger than a child and she looked frail. A brief flash of confusion crossed the old woman’s face before recognition replaced it.

“Cheyenne.”

Cheyenne moved to her grandmother’s side, leaning over and hugging her tightly before standing upright. “Grams, I’d like you to meet someone. This is Brendon.”

“Nice to meet you, ma’am,” Brendon said, not moving.

“You must be the young man who’s takin’ good care of my baby,” the woman said with a smile.