“You can’t pick me up, Booney,” he insists. “I’m, like, two inches taller and a bunch of muscles heavier than you.”
Rolling my eyes, I hand him his flip-flops, bend at the knees, and swoop him into a bridal carry. He’s heavier than he looks, but I never skip leg day. Still, I’m quick to get him across the street and to the relative safety of the sidewalk.
“Dude. What do you bench?” he asks, breathless as I gently set him down in front of his passenger door.
“More than you,” I retort, my arm still around his waist.
He dips his chin, bussing my temple. “God, you are so fucking sexy.”
Doesn’t mean anything. He’s just drunk.
Yeah. Keep telling yourself that.
10
MAVERICK
Booney carryingmy drunk ass across the street is the best thing that’s ever happened to me in my whole entire life.
He didn’t even break asweat.
He was also such a gentleman with the placement of his hands and the careful way he set me down. Trying so hard to keep things appropriate.
Fuck that, obviously.
If the universe is gonna dump my sexy supercrush in my lap, I’m gonna go there. As soon as the world stops spinning.
I just need a fixed point.
Booney’s lips should do quite nicely.
Oh wow. They are sooo pretty. His bottom lip is fuller than the top. How did I not notice that before?
He’s also got a barely there scar, and it gives it a slight pillowy effect. It’s the first thing I noticed at summer camp.
What was I saying?
Oh yeah.Supercrush.
Thoughts and consequences scatter like responsibilities. I lean in and touch my lips to Booney’s.
Mm. So soft. Softer than I imagined.
Sweet tobacco.
Strong arms, tightening around my waist, like a reflex.
Please, Boone.
With a groan in the back of his throat, he returns the kiss.
Deepens it. Not my imagination.
Bodies pressed against each other, hot and hard.
Better and safer and more passionate than anything in the whole world.
Booney is kissing me…until he’s not.
