“What time is it?” I ask between giggles.
He shakes his head, dark hair falling into his eyes. “Not a fucking clue. But your brother didn’t buy my too hungover to work today excuse so I’ve gotta head over to his place by noon.”
I grin, arching my chest up into him. His eyes drop to my breasts where he palms one of my tits and squeezes. “What if it’s already eleven?”
His lips curve into a wicked smirk. “Then we still have time for at least three orgasms.”
“Boone!” I gasp, my laughter turning into a yelp as he hooks an arm around my waist and hauls me out of bed. The sheet falls away, leaving me completely bare as he slings me over his shoulder like a caveman and strides toward the primary bathroom.
The moment we cross the threshold, he sets me down on the cool countertop, his hands firm but reverent as they steady me. He strides to the shower, yanking the plastic curtain open with a scowl as he peers inside.
“This curtain needs thrown out. I’m getting you a glass door.”
I blink at him, heat pooling lower in my belly. “A glass door?”
“Yeah,” he says matter-of-factly before turning the water on. Steam begins to fill the room. “So that I can pin you against it and fuck you properly in the shower.”
A shiver races down my spine. A guy talking about home improvement and sex in the same breath shouldn’t be this hot, but Boone makes it work. Hell, he makeseverythingwork. I imagine him wearing a tool belt on his strong hips, nothing else underneath it, while he takes me from behind.
“Okay,” I murmur, biting my lip to keep from smiling. “I hated that curtain anyway.”
“Good,” he says with a satisfied nod, like the decision has already been made. He steps back toward me, his brown eyes dark with intent. His hands find my knees, and he slowly spreads them apart, positioning my heels on the edge of the counter just like I was back at our apartment in New York City a month ago.
My breath hitches as he leans in, his chest brushing against mine.
“I like you like this,” he murmurs, his voice thick with hunger. “You fit me perfectly.”
His fingers skim up my inner thighs, teasing until they reach my pussy. He uses his thumbs to part me before sinking them just past my entrance and rubbing.
“So wet for me,” he murmurs.
He slides his pointer finger inside crooking it just right to rub against that spot I can never reach. His middle finger joins and then his thumb presses against my clit in lazy circles teasing.
“Beautiful.”
His free hand cups my chin tenderly, bringing our faces closer until he kisses me softly again.
If a kiss can be as good as being touched, Boone’s mastered the art. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, mirroring the stroke of his fingers while he holds me still. It’s consuming. Overwhelming. And I want more.
His free hand drops my chin and trails to my hair, tugging just enough to send sparks racing down my spine. For a guy who is on my brother's time, he kisses like he has all the time in the world. Like he doesn’t care if he’s making anyone wait.
Then he scoops me off the counter, my legs wrapping instinctively around his waist. Before I know it, he’s spinning me around to face the mirror.
“I’m fucking you right here,” he growls against my ear, his voice dripping with possession. “I want you to see how goddamn beautiful you look when you come with my cock buried inside of you.”
One of Boone’s arms drapes over my shoulders, his body solid behind me, his cock pressed firm against my ass as he reaches up and wipes the fog from the mirror. Slowly, my reflection comes into focus.
Flushed cheeks. Peaked, aching nipples. A body that looks pliant and open, eager to take him in a way I don’t bother hiding.
Behind me, Boone fills the frame. He looks so big, powerful, every inch of him radiating heat and control. His eyes are heavy-lidded, dark with intent, and they never leave my face in the glass. He’s not looking at my body.He’s looking atme.
Whatever that look is, it settles deep in my chest, a quiet knowing that we’ve crossed something we can’t uncross. That the way he’s looking at me isn’t like anyone else.
His hands slide around to my front, cupping my breasts fully, claiming them. His palms are so big they hide them completely. He squeezes, thumbs circling, teasing until my nipples tighten further beneath his touch. His fingers roll over them slowly, deliberately, drawing it out.
I bite back a breath, my knees softening, and I swear I could come like this. Just from the way he holds me, just from knowing he sees me exactly as I am and likes it.
“Perfect, perky tits,” he murmurs, his voice rough and possessive, making me shiver. His hands trail lower, one dippingbetween my legs to rub over my clit, his touch firm and claiming. “Sweet clit,” he whispers. “My favorite little sensitive part of you.”
