“First impression?” I question dumbly.
He redirects my hand up over his chest to wrap over his shoulder. “I’m a little excited,” he admits once my arm is hooked around his neck, so our bodies are flush once more.
“I’m no expert, but isn’t that the goal?”
“Not when it means I’m about to embarrass myself like a teenager.” I can hear the humor in his tone, and that goes a long way to making me feel better.
“Oh, that kind of excited.” I kiss the side of his neck, hiding my grin.
“Yeah.” He chuckles softly. “I need to do everything I can to make sure I can have you here again.”
“Already thinking about the next time, Casanova?”
“I don’t think I’ve thought about anything else since I saw you curled up in my bed.” His voice drops lower, and it seduces me. I could listen to Boone talk for hours. I love the sound of his deep, low voice, and like this, when it’s just for me, it’s even more intoxicating.
“Sweet talker.” I kiss his throat, licking my way down his chest.
He lets a long groan slip past his lips when he tilts his head back, but he catches my jaw before I can get lower. The look he gives me is a warning filled with heat and a promise I don’t quite understand, but it makes my belly flop anyway.
With the tiniest bit of pressure under my chin, he guides me up and places a chaste kiss on my lips in reward. I’m about ten seconds away from begging him to touch me if he won’t let mehave my way with him, but then he finally caresses his fingertips down the center of my body, going for my pants.
I don’t offer any of the same reluctance when he slides his hands into my panties and pushes the material down as far as my kneeling position will allow. “Lie down, sweetheart.” Boone nuzzles my ear.
I flush at my awkwardness as I try to sit on my butt with my pants locked around the tops of my thighs, but I manage to get my legs out in front of me. Boone pulls at my pant legs the moment I’m flat on my back, so I’m naked on the bed within seconds. I lean up on my elbows and watch him crawl closer, his pants still unbuttoned and looking like something I dreamed up.
“You…” I lick my lips when he plants an open-mouthed kiss on my leg, just above my knee.
“You?” he prompts when I lose my voice.
“Are gorgeous,” I say, finishing my thought.
His lips curl against my thigh as he continues to climb higher. “I’m glad you think so.”
“Everyone on the planet thinks so,” I grumble softly.
“I don’t care about anyone else on the planet, Harlyn.” That sentence does to my brain what his lips do to my body when he kisses me right under my belly button. I melt. Before I have time to formulate a response, he latches onto my nipple, sucking hard enough that my back bows off the bed. My clit throbs in time with my heartbeat, or maybe it’s the rhythmic pulls of his mouth. I thread my fingers into his light hair while Boone turns me into a panting mess.
When his fingers pinch and twist my other nipple, I come close to orgasming just from that alone. My heels press into the bed as my hips begin to swivel, seeking the friction that will take me over the edge.
As if he knows my body and exactly what I’m looking for, Boone inches down my belly, leaving lingering kisses along theway. I lift my head off the mattress to watch him climb off the bed and finally get undressed, but he doesn’t lift off me, and his hands never even leave my body. When he licks my core, I realize he had zero intention of getting up.
I scoot away as much as he allows out of shock. “I…” I start, but insecurity has me pausing. “I’ve never…” I shake my head, hoping he understands. The last time I was with a guy was a little over two years ago. We’d only had sex a couple times, and he wasn’t interested in going down on me. Before that, it was high school, and the experience wasn’t dissimilar. “You don’t have to.”
Boone’s eyes are wide. Clearly, I shocked him, either by telling him he doesn’t have to or that I’ve never experienced this before. “Harlyn, the only thing that will stop me from tasting you is you telling me you don’t want me to. Otherwise, I need to.”
“Need to?” My voice is too high, too anxious, as I react to the way he spoke like it’s actually vital.
“Need to,” he repeats with just as much intensity as before, maybe even more. “Is there a reason you don’t want me to?”
It feels strange to have this conversation when he’s literally between my legs. “Guys don’t… There’s nothing in it for you,” I reply.
He blinks once. “Who the fuck told you… No, no. Don’t tell me.” He shakes his head in denial before continuing. “I do. Not guys. Me. Only a selfish prick would tell you that, a stupid fucking selfish prick.” He seems irritated.
“I didn’t mean to make you mad.”
“You didn’t make me mad.” His voice is raised, belying his words. His brow furrows as if he is only now recognizing his harsh tone. “I’m not mad,” he tries again, and this time, I almost believe him. “At you,” he adds.
“I just didn’t want you to feel like you had to,” I defend, hating that I’ve made things awkward.
