We weren’t alone. Oh my God! So embarrassing!
I gasped, and Boone pulled back. An inch.
“You gonna have sex on my bar?”
Cody.
Holy hell. I was making out on top of my boss’s bar. On top.
I felt Boone’s chest rumble beneath my knuckles where I still held on to him. Then he pulled back, but he ignored Cody. His eyes met mine. Held. They were lighter than I remembered, but no less intense. His cheeks were flushed beneath his beard, his lips red and slick.
“You want me to make you come here or at your place?” he asked.
Oh my. While it was a question, the orgasm was a given. I just had to decide where I was going to get it. It also meant he didn’t care about the sanitary standards of the bar top or if Cody watched. He wanted me that badly.
I bit my lip, trying not to laugh and die of embarrassment at the same time. “My place.”
Cody, who seemed to have somehow heard my whisper, called, “Have fun, you two.”
Have fun. Have fun.
It was all I could think about as I drove to my little apartment above my friend Natalie’s garage, Boone following. His headlights were a constant the whole way, but so was my clit pulsing and my nipples throbbing.
Natalie’s husband, Rand, was a contractor and had designed and built the accessory building to match the style of the rebuilt farmhouse. From what Natalie had shared, the original house had burned down in a fire after she moved in, set by some guy who didn’t like the idea of her running a bed and breakfast, which had been her original plan when she inherited the place. The two buildings were connected by a glassed-in breezeway and far enough apart that I didn’t feel like moving in meant crowding the newlyweds.
Beneath my apartment, the garage had four stalls, big enough for their personal vehicles, and an old truck with a plow on the front to handle clearing their long driveway of the constant Montana snow. They also had ATVs and Rand’s tool trailer.
My space was one big room with a bathroom, a kitchenette, sofa, and bed. Windows looked out on the back of the snow-covered ranch and made me wonder if winter would ever end.
Fleeing my marriage, I’d run here to stay with my friend, far from Los Angeles to start over. To learn who I was, what I wanted.
Tonight, what I wanted was Boone.
He stood just inside the entry to my apartment, winter cap in hand. Watching me. Waiting.
I unzipped my heavy winter coat, but his voice–and the words–made my hands still.
“Let me,” he said. His voice was deep and rumbly, like a rockslide.
I let my hands fall to my side as he leaned down and unzipped my jacket, pushed it off my shoulders. He hung it on the hook by the door.
I swallowed, wondering if I’d turned the heat up too high. I wondered if he could hear my heart pounding.
He dropped to one knee with a heavy thud, and we were now eye to eye then patted his thigh.
“Put your foot here,” he instructed.
Settling my hands on his shoulders for balance, I did as asked. Not breaking eye contact, he tugged off my shoe, then I put my foot down and switched.
He patted his thick thigh once more, and I cocked my head.
“Sit.”
My mouth twitched, and I sat, feeling the hard play of muscle beneath my thighs. So warm. So big. So–
Oh my.
He kissed me again, but unlike the kiss at the bar that started out slow, this was hot right from the start. Open-mouthed, tongues tangling. As if he’d been thinking about nothing else on the drive here.
