Page 84 of The One Who Saw Her: Boone

"Are you really asking if I can handle a professional rider? Because I think we already established that I'm the pro in that arena."

He ran his palm up her thigh, stopping just shy of her core. “We did, didn’t we. Now I’m asking if you can do it in reverse.”

“I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

His hands slid to her hips and he lifted her like she was but a feather and placed her on his lap, so that she was straddling him. “Why wait?”

“A girl can’t give up all of her secrets.” But as she said it, she pushed down against his groin.

Boone groaned, arching up and the friction was incredible.

Boone’s hands cupped her face, thumbs brushing along her cheekbones and finally brushing it under her chin, tilting it back so he could plant gentle kisses along her jawline, then kissing her on the lips.

It was sexy and heartwarming and so damn perfect. Then he wrapped those arms around her and kissed her like it was the only thing that mattered in this moment. She would have believed him if he’d said he was trying to steal her soul.

He held her there, gently tracing the curve of her jaw with soft kisses. When he finally pulled back, Vivi couldn’t stop the teasing grin slipping across her face.

“Do you want to ride me, Boots?”

“Just a teaser,” she whispered.

“A teaser it is,” he murmured, pressing a trail of soft, possessive kisses along her jawline and neck. “I’d do anything to see you smile. Anything to keep you from crying again.”

Vivi’s breath hitched, heart hammering as she craned her neck, lips capturing his in a kiss that said everything she couldn’t voice. It was desperate in a wild way that was all hunger.

Boone groaned into her mouth, hands sliding up her thighs to her hips and pulling her impossibly close. He traced slow, purposeful patterns over her sides, her ribs, until he cupped her breasts, heat searing between them.

“You’re so perfect,” he rasped, lips grazing hers, teeth nipping gently.

She couldn’t resist teasing back, reaching up and threading her fingers into his hair. “Perfectly reckless?”

“Exactly,” he growled, sliding his hands lower, brushing the waistband of her shorts. “And yes. Very, very reckless.”

Her moan was a shiver against his chest, and she pressed closer, letting her own hands explore him, testing limits, teasing responses, learning every angle.

Boone slid his hands down her stomach, under the beltline of her yoga pants and beneath her thong. She gasped against his mouth, the tension building, heart and heat tangled into one as his fingers didn’t waste time touching and exploring.

She arched her back, angling her hips so that she achieved the maximum angle and connection. And then she rode his hand hard—harder than she’d ever ridden a man before. It bordered on pleasure and pain. So erotic and all-consuming she couldn’t think or process what was happening—she could only feel.

His hands. Oh, his hands. The way his thumb pressed against her pleasure point, his fingers swirled against her favorite spot. And then he hit them all at the exact moment and—bingo!

She fell into him fully, completely, letting the sun, the afternoon heat, and Boone take over every part of her that had been holding back.

She fell and she fell hard. She was just afraid she’d fallen too far to pick herself back up.

CHAPTER 33

Boone paused at the edge of the arena, the afternoon light glinting off the dust and sweat of horses and riders, and wondered if Vivi had any idea how transparent she was being.

Her hand accidentally bumped his, then somehow managed to do it again, and Boone kept his hands right where they were. If that was her idea of subtle, he wasn't about to ruin it. The warmth lingered, solid and distracting, and he walked a little taller because of it.

Which was rich, considering yesterday she'd been anything but subtle when she'd been riding his hand—and now she was treating him like he was a fucking tour guide at the state fair, asking polite questions, nodding earnestly, and pretending they hadn't crossed a line and then stomped all over it.

Boone should have been irritated. Instead, he was amused as hell. If she wanted to play innocent, fine, he could play along—right up until she stopped pretending.

"First rule of the rodeo," he said, voice low and teasing. "Never underestimate a horse. Second rule." He moved closer so he could smell her hair, the citrus and lavender that drove him crazy. "Always pay attention to what's happening beneath the noise. You'll learn more from the unexpected than the rehearsed."

Vivi’s laugh was breathless as she tilted her head. "And here I thought the first rule was, 'Stay alive.'"