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Now, I know what you’re thinking:That’s a pretty special talent you have there, Mysti May. Not many people can pick out a floating voice when they’re hung over.
You’d be right. Except, see, I’ve secretly swooned over this voice since college. Brendon is yummy with a capital YUM. You list a quality, and Brendon checks the box with gusto.
Strong. Check.
Brave. Check.
Athletic. Check.
Charming. Check.
I first noticed Brendon in college when Becky introduced us. Even then, he was tall—basketball-player-height, even though he’s always played baseball—with the sexiest green eyes that, when he looks at you, makes you feel like he seesonlyyou.
I fell hard for him that first moment. As my best friend’s brother, he was strictly off-limits.
So, I’ve settled for lusting after him from afar. And letting him star in some of my raunchier sex fantasies.
No harm there, right?
Even if he wasn’t devastatingly handsome, his charm would still be enough to get him laid from here to Laredo. As soon as I figure out wherehereis.
I know where here issupposedto be—Tijuana. This hotel suite is not the beachside retreat Becky, Sammi, Percy and I checked into yesterday. So, if Brendon didn’t come down to Mexico, that must mean that…
“As if this morning couldn’t get any worse,” I say, holding my head in a futile effort to stop it from spinning off my neck.
“Oh, I don’t know, I’m enjoying it,” Brendon says. Fuck, he’s chipper.
And naked. Like me. We’re both naked.
That can’t be good.
Or, was itverygood? I want to ask him—no, Ineedto ask him if we fucked last night—but I’m really not ready to hear the answer. Luckily, I’m distracted by the soothing smell of coffee.
“God, I want that,” I say, reaching out my hand for one of the mugs he’s holding.
“My pleasure,” he practically purrs. With a grin, he puts down the mugs and sits down on the bed beside me.
“No, no, no,” I moan, jumping up. “Fuck, Brendon! I meant the coffee.”
Brendon doesn’t seem put off by this. In fact, he seems completely relaxed, leaning back on the bed with his arms resting behind his head. The angle makes his already impressive biceps bulge out in a way that makes my clit stand at attention.
Much like his dick, which is still as hard as a rock.
At least, it looks hard. I should probably reach out and touch it just to make sure…
No! Bad, Mysti, bad!
Instead, I lean over and grab one of the mugs. “Hold up. Aren’t you supposed to be getting married today, too?”
Brendon just shrugs. “Things change.”
I take a sip of the brown liquid and feel my eyes roll back in my head. “Fuck, I needed this,” I say. “Is there a vat of this waiting for me somewhere?”
“Lots of questions this morning,” he says. “If it were me, I might be asking why you’re naked, or if we fucked last night, or where your clothes are. But that’s just me.”
Brendon shrugs again, causing his biceps to do a little dance just for me. He’s got the kind of body a man gets by actually doing stuff, not by spending endless hours in the gym. Brendon’s body is the result of years of military service, followed by a few seasons under his belt as a pitcher.
His body is muscular and sinewy in all the right places, and he looks like he’s built to sin. The question is, did we do any sinfully sexy stuff last night?
