And Reese had the audacity to want morenow.
Brantley shook off thoughts of a future with the man who’d shattered him and scrubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t have time for this right now. I’ve got to take Tesha to Magnus’s. She’s scheduled for training today.”
“I’ll take her.”
Brantley stared at him, considered telling him to fuck off. It would be just his luck that Reese would take Tesha and bolt, leaving him high and dry once again, only this time without the dog he’d come to love like she was his own damn child.
He took a deep breath, reined in the thought. Reese wouldn’t do that. He was a lot of things, but vindictive wasn’t one of them.
“Fine,” he said, figuring he could use a few hours to process everything that had happened since Reese walked through his door the other night. At the very least, he needed time to gather his thoughts so he could decide whether or not he was ready to kick Reese to the curb once and for all. Plus, he had seen how happy Tesha was now that Reese was back. He refused to see her love for Reese as a betrayal, although it would’ve been easy to.
Reese’s eyebrows popped up. “Really?”
“Yeah. Just so you know, we’ve long since gotten out of the basics.”
“I’ll let Magnus catch me up,” he said softly. “When I get back, we’ll finish this discussion.”
Brantley narrowed his eyes, unwilling to concede just yet. “Maybe.”
“Better than no,” Reese muttered, looking over at Tesha. “You wanna go for a ride, girl?”
Her ears perked up, and she trotted over, staring up at Reese as though sniffing out the command in his question.
“Truck,” Brantley commanded.
Tesha’s entire body wagged because she knew exactly what that meant.
Five minutes later, after Reese left with Tesha, Brantley headed for the bathroom. He needed a shower.
He made it as far as the mirror over the sink, leaning in and taking a good long look at himself. He ran a hand over the scraggly beard he hadn’t bothered to cut, then over the mop of hair that he’d refused to do anything with mainly because his brothers and sisters had started giving him shit about it. Didn’t seem to matter that Trey was growing his hair out long and looked as much like a homeless person as Brantley; they all seemed to gang up on him for some reason. Then again, Trey had gone through these phases before while Brantley’d always been within strict military regulations.
The next thing he knew, he was pulling the clippers out of the drawer.
It took twenty minutes to buzz the hair off his head and shave his face. By the time he was finished, he almost recognized the man staring back at him. It was the first time in months he’d given a shit about anything at all.
“Goddamn, Reese,” he grumbled, marching over to the shower and turning the water on.
When it was hot, he stepped beneath the spray. It felt weird for the water to pelt his scalp, but he ignored it. He washed up, rinsed off, and was about to turn off the water when he paused. He took hold of his semi-hard cock, stroked it once, twice … by the third time, he was fully hard, his eyes closing as he thought about Reese walking up to his porch the other day.
Despite his anger at the situation, there’d been that familiar zing that always came from looking at Reese. Something about the man spoke to Brantley on a primal level. From the very first day he met the man, he’d been attracted to him. Even through their painfully slow courtship, he’d been aroused by the mere thought of him.
And now Reese was back, spouting off shit like apologies and starting over. Oh, and marriage. Yeah, he hadn’t forgotten that tidbit Reese had laid on him the other day.
How the fuck was Brantley supposed to keep his distance? Hell, he’d fantasized about this exact thing a time or two in the past six months. Granted, those fantasies were generally obliterated by the self-loathing that would smash those thoughts into smithereens. But still.
Brantley leaned against the tiled wall, tightened his fist on his rigid cock. He closed his eyes, jerking himself, imagining it was Reese’s hand on him. Or better yet, his fucking mouth. Brantley knew his anger was no match for those fantasies. There was no doubt in his mind that he would give in if Reese were to seduce him. Hell, it had been six fucking months since he’d gotten laid. While he’d attempted to talk himself into finding some stranger to tap for one night, Brantley hadn’t been able to do it.
He was panting, his fist jerking roughly, the wet sound of his cock tunneling through his fist rivaling the soft groans that started down deep. In his mind’s eye, he saw Reese going to his knees before him, opening that wicked fucking mouth…
“Fuck,” he growled, squeezing his cock as it spurted.
His knees went weak, and he used the wall to hold himself up while he fought to catch his breath.
“Goddamn you, Reese,” he bellowed. “Why the fuck do you make it so goddamn hard?”
This time he wasn’t referring to his dick.
Chapter Six
