Page 100 of The One Who Saw Her: Boone

“Boone,” she breathed, arching into him, fingers now clutching at his shoulders.

“Good things come to those who wait because I swear you’re going to come like a damn volcano in seconds.”

“I’ve waited a long time for you. I don’t want to wait anymore.” Her pupils were blown wide, desire flashing like a storm. “Now make me blow like a volcano or I swear I’ll take matters into my own hands.”

"Like hell you will," he growled.

And that was all it took. He pressed closer—lips and fingers moving in perfect, sinful harmony—until she came apart, shuddering, every inch of her shaking, her voice stolen by him as he kissed her through the chaos of her orgasm, until she sagged, spent and perfectly pliant.

"Who needs patience when I've got you," she whispered, flushed and boneless.

"Just wait for the main event." He pulled back and looked at her—every curve he'd been thinking about all day, and felt something tighten in his chest that had nothing to do with want and everything to do with her. "But first, this goes."

In one motion he pulled her tank top up and over his head, his hands tracing every inch of skin he’d been wanting all day to reacquaint himself with.

"Now this." He tugged her bra strap.

And to his absolute delight, she reached back, flicked her wrist, and the bra was gone—falling to the floor and leaving her in nothing but bare skin.

Holy hell. It was even better than he remembered. Full and natural, and so damn perfect he nearly wept.

"Is this a lesson in patience again?" she asked, a smile in her voice.

"Just deciding where to start."

"How about here?" She touched her lips with one finger.

He kissed her—long and thorough—hands moving over every inch of her like he had no intention of stopping. Then he trailed his mouth down her throat, into the valley between her collarbones, and took a taste.

"Mmmm," she murmured and the sound made him groan against her skin.

He found her nipple, teased it with his tongue until it hardened, then took his time with both—exploring and sucking, kneading until her soft moans were filling the space. He switched sides because fairness mattered.

"Perfect," he whispered against her skin. "Just. Perfect."

"I feel underdressed," she teased, voice sharp and sultry. "Or are you overdressed?"

Before he could answer, her fingers were in his waistband, popping the button like she'd done it a hundred times. "Lift up."

He did. And in about one second flat, his jeans and boxer-briefs were at his ankles and her hands were already running over him in her grip, stroking him with a slow, intentional rhythm she'd somehow already learned made him tremble and swear under his breath. Every teasing, and—holy fuck—pass of her fingertips had him closer to the edge of something he was not ready to fall off yet.

He caught her wrists.

"You didn't like that?" she whispered, knowing full well he was unraveling.

"When I come," he said, voice scraped raw, "it's going to be inside you." He stopped. "I don't have a condom."

"I'm on birth control. And Lewis and I always used one."

"I haven't been with anyone since Kayla."

Her warm hand came up to his face and she looked at him the way nobody had looked at him in longer than he could name. "I know the kind of man you are," she said quietly. "You're the real deal, Boone. Don't forget that."

Goddamn her. He felt his chest tighten and his eyes went a little glassy. Never in a million years did he think a woman—this woman—would look at him like that, like he was worth it, and like he was exactly the man she wanted.

Vivi made him feel like he could be more. Like he was exactly who she wanted standing in front of her. She also made him want to be more—to be the best version of himself, the one he'd given up believing in somewhere along the way.

He wasn't going to lose that. And he sure as hell wasn't going to lose her.