Cheyenne looked at herself in the mirror when she’d finished dressing. The bra made her have more cleavage than ever before, and it definitely lived up to its name. It pushed her boobs up and accented them inside the low cut shirt. Cheyenne knew she should probably put on a regular T-shirt, and probably one of her regular bras, but she made herself walk out of the door of the bathroom and into her room.
She might never have a chance like this again. She had no idea where this, whatever this was, was going to go, maybe nowhere, but she’d ride the wave for as long as she could. She’d be a fool not to. She had no idea what Faulkner was still doing there. Cheyenne had been honest, too honest, thanks to the pain killers, last night when she’d questioned what Faulkner was doing with her, but it
