“Are you hungry?”
“I could eat.” She returns her attention to me, finding me staring at her before she shyly drops her gaze to her lap. I don’t think I could ever tire of her sweet duality. One moment, she’s utterly confident, and the next, she’s almost bashful. I only wish I knew what put the pink flush in her cheeks. “What time is it?” She clears her throat.
“Nearly seven.”
Her eyes widen in surprise. “I slept half the day.”
“You needed it. What sounds good for dinner?”
“I don’t know, anything.” She shrugs.
“I say takeout, unless you’d like to test the limits of your gastro health, because all I have are some very questionable leftovers and a frozen pizza that I should have tossed months ago.”
“Takeout it is,” she agrees readily.
I lean to the side and extract my phone from my pocket, then I open the browser tofood near mebefore handing it over to Harlyn. “Tell me if you see anything you like or if there’s something you have in mind that sounds good.”
She accepts my phone, cradling it between both hands. “Could I call Livy after?”
“Shit,” I curse. “Sorry, I forgot about that. Do you want to call her first?”
“No,” she replies easily. “We can order first. It’s already late. I’m sure you’re starving.”
“I am, thanks. If food didn’t take forever here, it wouldn’t be a big deal, but it does. At least we have lots of options though. I need to go to the bathroom. Take a peek at what’s around and tell me what looks good.”
“What’s your favorite?” she calls as I’m heading to the other side of the room.
“Depends on the day.” I enter the bathroom, but I leave the door slightly cracked so she can hear me better when I finish my answer. “If we were going out, I’d say The Point or Gerrard’s Kitchen.” I finish going to the bathroom and wash my hands, then continue. “But for takeout, I usually stick to pizza, Chinese, or Mexican.”
“Pizza,” she mutters softly then looks down at my phone while scrolling.
I sit next to her, making sure our shoulders and hips touch. Her breath catches in a way that makes me think of kissing her neck. Before I get too distracted, I flick my finger over the screen until I find my favorite pizza place. “This guy was on one of those cooking TV shows. I didn’t watch it, but he knows how to make a damn good pizza.”
“Oh yum.” She taps the spinach and artichoke pie. “Have you ever had this?” Harlyn turns to look at me, and our faces are too close together to ignore. I can see the little freckles across her nose and cheeks, but more importantly, I notice the way her eyes dip down to my lips.
“You can’t look at me like that and expect me to remember anything, let alone about food.”
“Sorry,” she murmurs, but she doesn’t take her eyes off my mouth.
I lean in, closing the small distance between us, and just before my lips touch hers, I gripe, “I don’t think you are.”
She grins, confirming my words right before I kiss her.
My stomach dips when Boone’s tongue brushes over my bottom lip. It isn’t just excitement making me feel like I’m on a carnival ride. There is also a riot of nerves amplifying my reaction. I’m acutely aware that we are in his bed, in his home, and what that means. I never imagined I could feel this way again, and I do when I’m with Boone. He makes me feel more than protected. He makes me feel seen in a way that has nothing to do with my sister.
I open my mouth to deepen the kiss, knowing a few stolen touches will not be enough. Fingers trembling, I reach for him. The moment my palm makes contact with the soft material of his shirt over his chest, Boone freezes as if the touch surprised him. For a single heartbeat, I wonder if I should slow down, but then he exhales and scoops me into his arms.
I get lost in his kisses. He’s sweet, almost tentative at first, like the day at the movie theater, but that only lasts until I nibble on his bottom lip. He makes a deep rumbling sound that is so insanely masculine, my breath catches in response. There is something so thrilling about knowing I’m the reason he made that sound. I bite his lip again, a little harder this time, and I’m rewarded with a similar sound. Something low in my stomach clenches. Selfishly, I know I will do many things to hear that noise again and again.
Boone’s tightening grip around my back is the only warning I get before he draws me across his lap. The quick shift is nearly as dizzying as the confirmation that he really can haul me around. With the kiss broken, I place my lips on the next best thing—his neck. The scent of his cologne is faint, but no less effective. He tilts his head back, allowing me full access to nuzzle and kiss his jaw, where I find the softest scruff I’ve ever had the pleasure of feeling against my skin. It makes me curious about how much more rugged he would look and feel if it were grown out.
I give into the temptation to nip him, since he didn’t seem to mind the nibbles on his lips, before sucking and kissing him more, careful not to leave a mark where it could be seen. I feel the sexy sound leave his throat this time, and that is even more rewarding.
“Harlyn, sweetheart,” he chastises softly.
“Sorry, I’ll go lower.”
That elicits a full groan. “Not complaining, but also not what I was getting at.”
