He paused long enough to grab the lube from the duffel bag sitting on the upholstered chair in the corner then resumed his prowl.
At this point, Brantley was watching him, and Reese had to wonder if the man realized he was about to change the agenda. Probably, if he had to guess. Brantley was good like that, always expecting the unexpected.
Reese crawled up on the bed, right between Brantley’s spread thighs, moving slowly, his gaze locked on the wide, bulbous head glistening with anticipation.
When he was close enough, Reese leaned down, slid his tongue over Brantley’s iron-hard length from root to tip. And that was a sensation he’d gotten familiar with as of late. All that velvet-soft flesh stretched delectably over an iron-hard shaft sent a frisson of heat down his spine. Considering, before Brantley, he’d never given a blow job in his life, turned out he was pretty good at it. At least if Brantley’s reactions were anything to go by.
He swirled his tongue around the head before sucking Brantley into his mouth. He repeated the maneuver a couple of times, taking him as deep as he could, teasing Brantley’s balls lightly on each pass.
But he didn’t linger.
Straightening up, still kneeling between Brantley’s thighs, Reese shot the man a smile as he flipped open the lid on the lubricant tube, aimed for his palm, and—
“I hope you boys are awake and decent,” came a high-pitched voice from in the hall. “We’ll be having pancakes. Thought you might want to join us.”
Reese had just enough time to dive off of Brantley, stumble the few feet to the other bed, and fall into it, grateful he hadn’t bothered making it, otherwise his dick would’ve been wagging in the breeze rather than tucked beneath the patchwork quilt he yanked over himself when Maude came strolling in.
Christ Almighty. Chills raced down his arms and his spine at the same time, and these weren’t the good kind, either. They were the foreboding kind. The make-your-balls-shrivel-up-inside-you kind.
“Lazy if I ever saw one,” Maude said with a smile, her poof of white hair perfectly helmeting her head.
Clearly she was oblivious to what she’d interrupted.
Thank God for that.
“You boys spend far too much time napping,” she said with a slight shake of her head.
Napping. Yes. That was what they were doing.
Without a care in the world, their sweet, if not nosy, host was glancing from Reese to Brantley then to the mess of clothing Reese had left on the floor. She tsked them a few times as she began picking up his clothes.
As he watched, Reese’s gaze snagged on the tube of lubricant he’d dropped during his hasty retreat.
Please, God, don’t let her see it. Please, please—
“Just like my boys when they were your age,” Maude said absently as she neatly folded Reese’s jeans and hung them over the back of the desk chair. “Couldn’t get ’em to be tidy no matter how hard I tried. They’d go out and play, come back all sweaty, and leave their clothes wherever they landed.”
How old did she think they were?
“Now, come on. Up and at ’em. It’s almost seven and I held off as long as I could. Breakfast’ll be ready soon, and Mother’s looking forward to sitting down with the two of you.”
Reese waited for Brantley to speak up, to urge her to leave, but he remained completely silent. So silent, Reese heard only the rush of blood in his ears, felt the heat as it consumed his face.
Praying Brantley would say something, Reese peered over only to realize Brantley was pretending to be asleep.
Son of a—
“He’s a late sleeper, huh?” Maude asked, glancing over at Brantley and shaking her head. “Well, wake him up and you two can join us in the parlor for coffee before breakfast is served.”
Reese wanted to decline her offer, but his voice had vanished, embarrassment flooding him from the roots of his hair down to his toenails.
“Five minutes,” Maude said as she stepped out into the hall. “I expect you both by then.”
When the door closed behind her, Reese released the breath he’d been holding, overwhelmed with a relief so potent he was glad he was lying down.
The next thing he knew, Brantley was joining him, jerking the quilt back as he settled on top of him, the heat of his naked body covering him completely as Brantley stared down into his face.
“Now where were we?” Brantley leaned in for a kiss.
Reese glared up at him, still in shock because … seriously?
Rather than succumb to the kiss, he shoved Brantley off him and shot out of the bed. He didn’t even care that Brantley’s hard thump on the floor where his ass met the hardwood might possibly bring Maude back in.
“While you’re down there, get the lube,” Reese snapped.
“Oh, come on,” Brantley grumbled, grabbing the tube and getting to his feet. “You’re seriously not gonna choose breakfast over sex, are you?”
Reese yanked his jeans from the chair, jammed one leg in, then the other. “You pretended to be asleep.”
“Well, yeah.” Brantley laughed. “What else was I supposed to do?”
“Something,” Reese bit out, angrily buttoning and zipping. “Anything would’ve been nice.”
“It’s not my fault she doesn’t put locks on her doors.”
A fact that had completely slipped Reese’s mind, although he wasn’t sure how. For the two days they’d been here, Maude had proven she cared not for their privacy, walking in uninvited whenever she felt the need.
“Come back to bed,” Brantley urged. “Finish what you started.”
Reese glared at him as he tugged his shirt over his head, then stabbed his arms into the sleeves. “Not a chance.”
“Fine. What about on the plane?” Brantley asked, strolling toward the adjoining bathroom.
Reese shot him a get real look. “It’s gonna take me some time to get over that.”
Brantley stopped in the doorway, frowned. “Like what? A few minutes? Hours?”
Reese dropped into the chair to pull on his socks and boots. “Try days, Walker.”
“Days?” Brantley’s expression reflected his incredulity, as though Reese couldn’t possibly hold out on him for a lengthy period of time.
Reese sat up straight, met Brantley’s gaze. “Maybe weeks.”
The look on the other man’s face was absolutely fucking priceless, and seeing it made Reese feel a tad bit better.
But only a tad.
“Where the hell’s the parlor?” Reese muttered, snatching his phone on the way to the door.
*
“Maybe weeks, my ass,” Brantley muttered, walking into the bathroom and flipping on the shower.
He didn’t bother with hot water, knowing cold would have to do the trick since the last thing he wanted was to go downstairs sporting a hard-on. Interacting with these women was awkward enough; no way would he add an internal struggle to the matter.
“Weeks,” he snorted indignantly, stepping into the tiled enclosure. “I’d like to see him try.”
After dunking his head beneath the spray, Brantley glanced down at his cock. For grins, he circled it with his fist, stroked firmly.
Okay. Not so bad.
He exhaled slowly, reaching for a sense of calm.
Closing his eyes, he took himself back in time to that moment when Reese had been kneeling between his legs, those full lips gliding effortlessly over him. Up, down, slow, easy. God, he fucking loved Reese’s mouth. The hesitancy mixed with the eagerness… He wasn’t sure Reese was even aware of it, but Brantley was, and he fucking loved that about the man. Yes, Reese was still unsure of himself in many ways, despite the fact he could so easily rock Brantley’s world—sometimes with merely a look—but that only made their encounters even hotter.