“Fuck me.” Boone groans as his eyes slide closed, and he tips his chin down. In this position, I can control how hard I grind on his fingers and cock. Just as I’m about to come, his other handpushes on the small of my back, making me take him deeper as he lifts his hips. I cry out as my inner walls convulse around him.
Boone groans right along with me, urging my hips to keep swiveling when I nearly collapse on his chest. The only sound in the room is his steady heartbeat under my ear and our combined heavy breaths.
Pure bliss.
CHAPTER 22
Harlyn
Boone pops his head up off my lower stomach when my gut decides to embarrass me by growling. The fact that I can see the full whites of his eyes around the cornflower blue makes me think he’s shocked or surprised.
“See what happens when you distract me? You starve,” he accuses like it’s my fault we ended up tangled in his clean sheets for hours. The sun set long ago, and the thought of pizza makes my stomach grumble again. He looks down as if my body offended him. “I know, alright? I’m a selfish asshole.”
I giggle and push him away so I can finally get up. Going to the bathroom and cleaning up isn’t really an option at this point. I’m a mess, and I can’t even claim it was Boone—well, other than his saliva, because we were careful and he used a condom.
“Pizza is closed.” He sighs as I head toward the bathroom. I might walk a little faster than usual, because I know he’s staring at my naked backside. I never once thought Boone wasn’t completely happy with how I felt and looked while we were inbed. He proved he liked what he saw more than once, but it’s a little harder to hold onto that confidence when we aren’t in a lust fog.
Just before reaching the bathroom door, I look over my shoulder and confirm my suspicions when I find his eyes trained on my ass. The heavy-lidded look pointed at me seems to prove he still likes what he sees, but I suck in my tummy when I turn to close the door anyway.
With a deep exhale, I drop my forehead to the door. My inner thighs are slippery, but that reminder is nothing compared to the echo of throbs that hit me occasionally, as if my body is still reeling from the orgasms Boone delivered. I squeeze my thighs together, and another aftershock tightens my core.
“We don’t have a lot of options, sweetheart. About the best I can do is a drive-through.” I hear him rustling around in the bedroom, but my mind is stuck on the fact that he called me sweetheart. It makes me smile.
I finally make my way over to the toilet and force myself to pee. It isn’t easy. I end up flushing three separate times so I don’t clog the toilet with all the tissue I used. Boone knocks on the door when I’m washing my hands. I look around for a towel to cover up with, but it feels wrong to use his clean linens when what I really want is a shower. “One sec.” I finish up then open the door just a crack to hide behind it. I’m getting even more shy, which seems so stupid. This man literally touched and licked nearly every part of me.
His eyes scan my face. “Are you okay?” His voice is soft, and even I can tell he’s unsure.
“Yes.” I nod and release my grip on the door. I don’t want him thinking I regret what just happened between us because I’m in my head about my body. “I was wondering if I could take a shower?”
His face relaxes, and he leans his shoulder against the wall, not offering me much in the way of privacy. He’s dressed in a pair of black sweatpants and a black fitted shirt. He looks scrumptious, all comfy and relaxed. “Feel free, you don’t need to ask, but first I need to know what you want to eat. I promise to get you pizza soon.” He lifts a hand like he’s taking an oath. It’s adorable.
“Where are you going?” My shoulders relax as his eyes trail over me through the gap in the door. I don’t know how he can make me forget about my insecurities with a look or touch, but he does.
“McDonald’s is the closest, but I can go somewhere else.”
I shake my head. “Chicken nuggets and fries,” I say, feeling juvenile for some reason.
He tries to hide a smile. “Are you a sweet and sour girl or BBQ?”
“Honey, actually. Not honey mustard, just honey,” I say with more emphasis than needed, but I really don’t like mustard. “And ketchup.”
Boone’s brows rise slightly. “Drink?”
I could get a Frappe or sweet tea, but I’m already worried about not sleeping tonight since I took such a long nap, so I suck it up and commit to my childish order. “Hi-C orange drink, please.”
The small grin never leaves Boone’s face as he leans forward, pushes the door open, and reaches for my wrist, pulling me toward him. My chest brushes up against the soft material of his shirt first, then the rest of him as he wraps his arms around me and kisses the top of my head. “One chicken nuggy happy meal, coming right up.”
I click my tongue. “I don’t want a happy meal, unless it’s one of the ones that comes with a ten piece and socks or something.”
He bursts out laughing while squeezing me harder. I can’t help my answering smile in return. I can still hear the amusement in his voice when he says, “I should only be gone a few minutes. No one can get in the building without a keycard, and the door will be locked.”
The reminder of the need for security precautions is stark, dragging me out of the levity. I salute Boone as he stands back, because I don’t know how to handle the shift in my emotions. He twists his lips in a wry expression but leaves a few seconds later.
I wait to close and lock the bathroom door until after I hear the heavy front door snap shut. Instantly, I feel a shift in my bearing. I’m not as frightened as I was at the condo, but I’m not nearly as comfortable as I was when I knew Boone was here with me.
I used to like to shower with just a candle or small lamp for light, but the desire to relax in the shadows is gone now. In fact, showering isn’t even as appealing anymore because all I can think about is someone watching me or catching me alone and naked.
With forced determination, I turn the water on and wait for it to heat up a little before stepping under the spray. My eyes remain on the door while I wash my hair with shampoo that smells like cedar. I know I will regret not having any conditioner, but that’s a problem for tomorrow. I didn’t think to ask for a washcloth, so I lather the soap between my hands before washing my body. The slight tenderness between my legs sends a surprise pang of desire through me, which is just enough to make me stop focusing on what-ifs.
