They’re working, after all. And Boone’s here for a reason: he’s paying us to help him win this case and rebuild his reputation. Not to have deep conversations about the future and fuck me senseless every night, no matter how badly I want him to do that.
By the time dinner had rolled around I’d made myself homemade Pad Thai, ate it on the deck despite the freezing temperatures, and stared out at the lake I fell into last night wondering how the hell so much changed so quickly and what Boone was thinking about right now.
It’s refrozen now, back to looking safe. But the memory of him pulling me out of the icy water, the raw concern in his eyes as he held me under the warm shower, and the way he felt inside me later that night—all of it lingers, warming me from the inside out.
When I finished dinner, I tossed the leftovers, cleaned up the kitchen, and thought more about Boone. Frankly, that’s all I’ve been doing all day. Thinking about him. Wanting him. Missing him.
To be honest, I feel like I’m teetering on the edge of obsession and that’s terrifying because I don’t know where he stands and I’ve never been this into a guy before.
And then, like I summoned him from thin air, the front door finally opens.
“Hey,” he says, stepping inside and dropping his bag on the kitchen floor—a bag I’m sure is stuffed with notes from whatever he and Cain worked through today to defeat his case on Tuesday. I just hope it’s enough.
“Hey,” I reply, my voice low and soft, taking him in.
He looks perfect. But doesn’t he always? It doesn’t matter that he’s been working all Saturday with my brother on something that I know he despises. He looks handsome. Broad in all the right ways. Strong and tired yet completely irresistible to me.
I’m standing in my black silk robe, the sexiest thing I own in this house. I still haven’t brought my actual cute lingerie from New York to Brookhaven, but I know that doesn’t matter to him. There’s nothing underneath the robe which is what he cares about. My legs are smooth, my pussy even smoother, and I’m already so worked up that if I rubbed my thighs together hard enough, I swear I could come just from looking at him.
Boone yanks off the Mayhem-logo wool hat he’s wearing then rakes a hand through his dark hair and fixes me with a cool stare and a raised brow. His hands move to the buttons on his flannel shirt, and he begins to undo them. No coat for Boone. The man runs hot no matter how freezing it is outside. Another thing I love about him.
With slow, deliberate precision, he undoes each button until the flannel hangs open, exposing the carved lines of his abs and the corded muscles of his chest. Dark coarse hair dusts against his pecs and down into his waistband.
If he hasn’t thought about modeling before, he should really consider that as part of his retirement plan.
“Come here, girl,” he says, his voice low and commanding as he spreads his arms wide.
I don’t hesitate. Shamelessly, I rush into his arms, and he catches me with ease, scooping me up and wrapping my legs around his waist. It’s like something out of a movie and nothing that I’ve ever done before.
My robe flutters open, and the second that the bare skin of my breasts and core presses against his chest, he lets out a deep, guttural growl.
“I can feel your pussy making a mess on my stomach,” he growls. His lips graze my ear in a soft nip. “I fucking love it. I need a shower. And a taste of you. Now.”
“Okay,” I whisper, my voice trembling with anticipation. My lips brush the hair at the nape of his neck, and I feel his muscles relax under my touch.
He strides upstairs without pausing, his grip firm, his body flexing with the movement of carrying me so easily, until we’re back in the bathroom where he left me this morning. He turns on the showerhead and the steam clouds the surrounding space.
“Let’s get you naked,” he murmurs, his eyes hooded and heavy with heat. He yanks the tie of my robe the rest of the way free and slides the fabric off my shoulders, letting it pool at my feet. His gaze burns into me as he strips himself bare, taking his time and savoring the view.
When he’s done, he pulls back the shower curtain and curses at it under his breath, stepping inside first and holding out a hand for me to follow.
Once we’re under the hot spray, his hands are everywhere, roaming over my body, claiming every inch of my skin. His touch is rough and reverent all at once, and then his teeth sink into my shoulder, hard enough to leave another one of his marks I've come to cherish.
“Fuck, I missed you,” he growls against my skin. “How’s that possible, Rosie? Only a few hours apart, and it feels like a fucking lifetime.”
I let my head fall back against his chest and nod because I feel it too. “I missed you too. I’m glad I’m not the only one.”
“I want your cunt,” he says, his hand sliding down to cup me from behind. His fingers massage my clit before slipping one inside my opening. He pumps it slowly, taking his time, and I shudder, already lost to the feel of him.
Why did I make this so complicated in my head today? Boone wants me and I want him. Rhiannon’s right. That’s the only thing that matters.
“Bare,” I blurt out before I can take it back. “No condom. Fuck me with nothing between us tonight.”
He pauses his fingers before gently removing them and spinning me to face him, his dark eyes searching mine for any hesitation. He won't find it there. There isn’t any. I’m certain of this. I’ve never had sex without protection before. I’m on the pill, but no one I’ve ever slept with has been worth the added risk.
Boone’s worth it.
“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice softening just enough to remind me that Boone cares about my pleasureandmy safety.
