Chapter 28
Chapter twenty-eight
Mine
Maverick
Cheyenne rummaged through my cupboards, a look of fierce determination on her face.
I stood back, letting her flit about, reminding me of a bird.
I could watch her all day. She had this inner glow about her, this magnetism that drew me in.
I was little more than a moth to her bright, unwavering flame.
Her lips pulled up into a satisfied grin as she stood before the countertop, hands on her hips while she looked over her findings. “Perfect, you have everything for it.”
“For what?” I asked, eyeing the half dozen cans sitting before a metal bowl she’d grabbed. Canned corn, green chiles, enchilada sauce, black beans, an unopened jar of salsa, canned chicken, and a box of rice.
She turned on the oven, washed her hands, and rifled through the utensil drawer before pulling out my can opener.
“This is what I like to call my southwest bake.” She went to work, grabbing for the canned chicken, draining the water, and plopping it in the bowl before adding some taco seasoning and spices to it.
Then she started opening the cans and added them in.
“I know it doesn’t look like much, but I promise you it tastes better than it looks…
It’s my three favorite things when it comes to a meal. Quick, easy, and delicious.”
My brow rose. It didn’t look like much. Just a mish mash of different ingredients. But some of the best things I’d cooked didn’t look all that great.
She scoffed. “Don’t judge. We can’t all be the next Gordon Ramsey like you.”
I rolled my eyes, a grin drawing on my lips as I took a seat at one of the island chairs, watching her mix everything together. “Hardly.”
She paused, pegging me with an are-you-kidding look. “Maverick, you’re the best damn cook I’ve ever known… and I’ve had Mrs. Mooney’s cooking.”
My eyes widened, my grin pulling wider. “Don’t let her hear you say that.”
Cheyenne found a 13x9 pan and began dumping all the ingredients in. “I’m serious.”
I fidgeted, deciding to change the subject. “So, what’s next?”
“Well, you put it in the oven for twenty-five minutes, then voila! Add a little sour cream, a little hot sauce, and some cheese, and boom, you got yourself a southwest bake.”
I nodded. Sounded easy enough. “What made you choose this meal?”
She shrugged as she moved to the oven, loaded in the pan, and set a timer. “It’s my favorite…and it’s the first recipe my daddy taught me. When I was growin’ up, we traveled a lot.” She came to my side, leaning against the countertop beside me.
I couldn’t help but notice the curve of her ass peeking out from beneath my shirt. I bit back a shot of desire. I wanted her, but I wanted to talk to her more right now.
“Daddy was a lineman, and after my mama left, he decided to sell our house, buy a trailer and we started travelin’. He could work from wherever, so we’d stay in a town for a job or two and then move on.”
She talked about her mom leaving so casually, it still shocked me. I knew that if she was anything like me, deep down, it still haunted her. But she didn’t let it show. I applauded that kind of strength.
“This was a quick, easy dinner that we could make on the road. It’s limited ingredients. As you can tell, super-fast prep time, and minimal clean up. Daddy was always findin’ recipes like this to try, but this one will always be my favorite.”
I wrapped an arm around her waist and dragged her against my side. Even sitting in the bar-top chair I was a little taller than her. With my free hand, I tilted her chin up to me. “Well, I can’t wait to try it,” I murmured against her lips.
She leaned into the kiss a moment, before pulling away, an incredulous look in her eyes. “You’re just sayin’ that.”
I shook my head. “No. The best meals are ones that are cooked from the heart.”
She scrunched up her nose, that incredulous look turning to complete disbelief as a laugh bubbled out of her.
God, she was gorgeous when she laughed. She did it so freely and easily, but it was always genuine.
She was pure sunshine bottled up, and even though I didn’t drink, I’d get drunk on her any day.
“That is the biggest crock of shit,” she giggled.
I chuckled even as I shook my head. “It’s true. Aunt Violet always used to say cooking is a work of the heart. It ain’t just about the ingredients, but the love and passion you put into it.”
Cheyenne’s laughter sobered, but the smile remained on her face. “Whatever you say, cowboy.”
I flicked her nose, a little habit, I’d come to realize. She scrunched up her face once more, accentuating the freckles, before leveling me with a playful glare. I leaned over and kissed her, halting any more argument from her. She didn’t resist as I pulled her more firmly into me once more.
“So,” I whispered against her lips. “What’dya wanna do now?”
She pulled away and chewed her bottom lip, a mischievous sparkle entering her turquoise gaze. “Well, we’ve got twenty some minutes, and I do happen to recall you mentionin’ somethin’ about that dinin’ room table.”
Even as she spoke, her hand drifted up my thigh before settling on my cock. A sharp hiss left me in a rush, desire zinging to life within me. Well, fuck.
My grip on her waist tightened, a rumble of approval escaping me. “What’re we waitin’ for, then,” I replied.
Her little gasp made my cock hard. I picked her up before she could do or say anything else, her legs caging around my torso on instinct.
I relished the feel of her in my arms, one of my hands gripping her ass, while the other knotted in her long, wild curls.
Laughter trickled out of her when I bumped into the head of the table, tilting her head back, exposing the elegant curve of her neck.
I trailed a gentle path of kisses along her jaw and all the way down to the base of her throat.
Her little sighs and moans were kindling to the fire burning inside me.
I hadn’t lied, I wanted her on this table. Ever since Thursday night when we'd been interrupted.
I set her down on the tabletop, her legs still firmly wrapped around me. Her hands roamed over my stomach, my chest, before snaking up along the curves of my shoulders and finally hooking around my neck. Her touch was electric, turning every nerve ending in my body into a livewire.
The feel of her in my arms, the taste of her on my lips, it was all-consuming, intoxicating.
She was everything I didn’t know I needed.
I’d been so wrapped up in Ashleigh for so long, that I hadn’t realized the smoke-show right in front of me.
How different things could be right now, had I noticed Cheyenne sooner.
The connection we shared... I’d never felt anything like this. It terrified me as much as it exhilarated me. But one thing was for certain…I wanted more of Cheyenne. All of her. Whatever she was willing to give me.
As if my touch melted her, she laid back, her blonde curls splaying in a beautiful mess around her as her back met the wooden tabletop.
She looked like a streak of sunlight against the dark wood.
I leaned over, my lips finding hers once more as one of my hands drifted up along the inside of her thigh, teasing, taunting in their lazy pursuit.
She wriggled and writhed beneath me, urging me for more. More touching, more kisses. Just…more. And I’d happily oblige.
Her little moan as my fingers stroked her core was a damn symphony. I leaned back to take her in even as I worked her, stoked her higher and higher. Her eyes were closed, her lip sucked between her teeth, my shirt riding up over the plains of her stomach, exposing tan skin and delicious curves.
As I slipped a finger inside her, starting up a slow, steady rhythm, her eyes shot open, locking with mine. My desire blazed, like the flames of a fire. Dear Lord, I wanted her.
With my free hand, I pushed up her t-shirt and kissed a path up to the swell of one of her breasts before finding the nipple and teasing it. She arched beneath my touch on instinct. A breathless whisper of, “more,” falling from her lips.
Damn, she was fucking sexy.
I inserted a second finger, picking up the pace and earning more sweet sounds from her. Curses and hisses and moans. Her eyes rolled shut, her hands splayed flat on either side of the table, her manicured fingernails curling and whitening as they tried and failed to grip something.
I loved that I could do this for her. Loved that my touch sent her shuddering. That my kisses made her melt. That my hand made her beg for more. She made me feel wanted, needed in a way I’d never known before. I wanted to give her more. My time, my attention. Whatever she wanted.
A sound akin to a shotgun boomed through my living room as the front door burst open, with none other than Cash lingering in the doorway. I startled, my hands ceasing their movement, my eyes settling on him across the way.
“Who’s ready to celebrate? I know Cheyenne’s ready for a—oh shit!”
Cash’s gaze clashed with mine, surprise written all over his face. Before he could say anything, I pointed toward the door. “Get the hell out, Cash.”
He recovered quicker than I expected, a mischievous smirk drawing on his lips.
“Where the hell was my invi—” His head cocked to the side, realization dawning on his features.
Pure, innocent excitement shone in his hazel gaze.
He all but bounced up and down with exuberance. “You…you fuckin did it. You talked!”
“Yes, he can talk again, idiot, can you shut up?” Cheyenne snapped, speaking for the first time since this whole thing started. Her cheeks blazed red, but there was no embarrassment in the tone of her voice. “We’re busy. So, get the hell out of here.”
“He’s…” Cash’s gaze met mine once more. “Your’re…you’re fuckin talkin’.”
“Cash,” I replied, “Get out.”