No.
I trail after him as he pulls away.
“Shit,” he says, wiping his mouth, his eyes wide.
“Booney, come back,” I whine, and go in for another kiss.
My lips hit the palm of his hand. This never happens to me.
He leans back, shaking his head. “You’re intoxicated.”
His words are so soft, said without any judgment. And he looks like he regrets stopping as much as I do.
A lot of folks I sleep with just wanna be able to say that they fuckedtheMaverick. That’s not a complaint—I’m clearly getting laid out of the deal. But one of the reasons I drink so little is because so many people in Boone’s position would gladly take advantage without a second thought.
His respect for my compromised state is the sexiest thing he’s done all night.
Boone rolls his shoulders, then holds out a hand. “Keys?”
Damn, he’d look so sexy in a properly fitted designer tux.
Possibly standing at the end of a very long aisle.
“Maverick? Keys?”
Aw, poor guy.
He’s trying to move beyond The Kiss, but there will never be any moving on from The Kiss. That he kissed me back is etched in my brain, a permanent exhibit.
Before he can repeat himself, I hold up my arm. “I’ve got a proximity bracelet.”
It’s black titanium with a core of…whatever starts a car. “My dad’s an engineer, and he got mad when I left my keys in Australia.”Or was it Austria?“Anyway, he made a bracelet that does the same thing.”
I flop into the passenger seat, with Booney trying to control the fall.
Adorable.
“Your dad’s really smart,” he says, closing the door.
“Yeah. He is.” I watch, fascinated as he crosses in front of my car, all sleek muscles and effortless striding. I wait till he opens the door to say, “Too bad he got such a dumbass for a son, right?”
Boone purses his lips, reaching across to put on my seatbelt. “Don’t do that. Don’t call yourself that.”
Ugh, my heart.
For some reason, I remember that Uncle Tolly owns an island in the Caribbean.
Maybe we could have our ceremony on the beach.
“I’m not kidding,Maverick,” he says, the emphasis weird on my name.
Like maybe he wanted to call me Rune again.
I don’t hate it.
“Fine, but have you read about my cousins?” I ask, settling into the seat. “They took their SATs when they were fourteen and aced them. Hell, the only reason mylying identical twindidn’t graduate from the US Naval Academy is because he got recruited to some special ops thing in his softer year. Meanwhile, I washed out after one semester.”
Softer? No. Soft…more.
