And he’s right. I know it. I feel it in every part of me. He doesn’t just own my body—he owns me, completely. And I own him.
“I’m… I’m coming, Boone,” I gasp, the words tumbling out as the tension that’s been building inside me finally snaps.
“Good,” he growls, unyielding as his cock drives into me, his pace never faltering even as my pussy spasms around him.
I collapse forward in his arms, the world tilting as my release crashes over me in waves. It’s raw, and overwhelming how powerfully I care about him. Boone doesn’t let up, pumping into me a few more times before he groans, his warmth spilling into me as he releases with my name on his lips.
And for a fleeting second, I remember my dad might still be within earshot of us. But the thought dissolves as Boone’s grip on me tightens, his breathing ragged against my ear.
It feels so good. So right to be held by him like this.
He holds me there, pinned against the shower wall, both breathing heavily, until the water turns cold and snaps us back to reality.
With a flick of his wrist, he shuts the valve off, his body still pressed against mine. Then he pulls out slowly, and even soft, he’s still thick and heavy, his cock brushing against me as he moves.
Wordlessly, he grabs a towel and dries me, his movements tender despite the fire that just raged between us. When he’s satisfied, he wraps the towel around me and scoops me into his arms, carrying me to bed gently.
And just like yesterday, he tucks us both under the covers, smoothing my damp hair back with his hand.
“That was a really close call with my dad,” I whisper.
His dark eyes meet mine, and his lips curl into a smile. “I’d fuck you in front of anyone, Rosie. I don’t have any shame when it comes to you because you’re my wife.”
And I believe him. Every single word.
Chapter 35: Boone
It’s been only two days since I last saw Rosie, yet the time apart has been excruciating.
We spent all of Saturday night together, and all of Sunday too. Lazy morning kisses blurred into tangled sheets, and the afternoons passed quietly with us working side by side.
I unpacked boxes she’d long since forgotten about while she answered work emails and watched me with those pretty soft eyes. Then I finally installed a home security system in her place, shirtless.
It wasn’t necessary, but I liked the way her gaze felt on me while I worked which quickly led to us fucking on the couch and watching snow drift down over the lake outside her living room window.
It was exactly what I think we both needed. Time away from the cameras. Away from pretending and performing. Time to see who we really are to each other when no one’s watching.
And even though the conversation we desperately needed hovered at the edge of my thoughts all weekend, I didn’t push it. I could tell she wasn’t ready yet. That we both needed a little more space to just exist together, to learn the shape of us, without the weight of the future pressing down quite so hard.
Leaving her warm bed and even warmer body to head back to Manhattan was the last thing I wanted to do, but a last-minute call from Coach changed everything. He needed me back for an early Monday pre-game practice, and there was no way I could risk train delays or show up too exhausted to play on Tuesday.
So, reluctantly, I left Brookhaven, kissed Rosie goodbye, and made my way back to the city, the ache of leaving her setting in before I’d even reached the station.
Monday came and went in a blur of stretching, recovery drills, and mindset exercises.
It wasn’t physically taxing, but by the time I made it home that evening, all I wanted was to see her. Except she was stuck at the office dealing with a case gone sideways, and by the time she was free, I’d already crashed for bed. Game-day bedtime rules.
I dragged myself to sleep, hoping she’d come to bed with me when she got home later but she never did.
I thought I’d spot her in the stands Tuesday night.
But she wasn’t there either.
Not in the seats she usually claims, not tucked near the sidelines flashing me her pretty smile, not anywhere. And I blame her for my performance being rough.
I didn’t completely tank, but the rhythm felt off, like a song played in the wrong key. My eyes kept darting toward the crowd, scanning for her face, desperate to find her even though something in my gut told me she wasn’t coming.
As soon as the game ended, I made a beeline for the locker room, dodging reporters and brushing past Coach, who thankfully didn’t push for post-game interviews.
