Page 86 of The One Who Saw Her: Boone

Boone’s boots made a steady tattoo on the hard floor of the arena as he closed the distance, and the next thing she knew he had her swept off her feet. Head buried in her hair, she felt him burrow until his lips were on her neck.

“You know people are watching,” she said, breath light, amusement tipping her voice as he carried her away from the crowd.

“That’s why I’m relocating you.”

“So this is a courtesy?”

His mouth curved, eyes unmistakably pleased. “Think of it as crowd control with benefits.”

Before she could argue, his lips were on hers, soft but demanding, and she melted into the press of his chest, the rhythm of his heartbeat syncing with hers. Every instinct told her to pull away—she wasn’t supposed to fall for this—but the excitement of the ride didn’t stop at the bull. It had followed him straight to her and, damn, she had a hard time forgetting why this wouldn’t work.

Her hands wound into his hair, tugging gently, and Boone grinned lazily against her mouth—so sure of himself she nipped at his lower lip.

“You realize this is terrible timing.” he murmured, brushing his lips back to hers.

She laughed softly. “And yet you’re not stopping.”

“I’m adaptable." Boone leaned back slightly to look into her eyes, his were dark and electric, then he smirked. "You should know. I don’t do subtle when I’m interested."

“I think you could get away with anything right now.”

“Good, because I plan on taking full advantage.”

“And what exactly are you planning?” she teased, her voice just above a whisper.

Boone tilted his head, letting his lips brush hers in the faintest ghost of a kiss, sending all kinds of hormone induced shiver zing down her spine.

“I was thinking about starting with a private victory lap,” he murmured, his hands tightening slightly on her waist, thumbs brushing against the curve of her hips. “Somewhere you can’t run, and I can’t get in trouble.”

“Testing the limits?” she said, voice teasing, but she couldn’t hide the trembling in her voice.

“Limits are more like suggestions,” he said lightly, mouth hovering just shy of hers. “Especially when they’re getting in the way.”

Vivi smiled, slow and unimpressed. “Is that confidence going to hold up when things stop going your way?”

His grin turned lethal. “Boots, this is my way.”

Her laugh turned into a gasp when he pressed her closer, his body warm and solid against hers.

“Boone,” she warned.

He chuckled low in his throat, voice so husky it vibrated against her skin. “That’s my favorite sound. And tonight I plan on hearing it a lot.”

Her hands snaked up, tugging at the collar of his shirt, and he caught her wrists in one hand, tilting her just enough to kiss her again, slower this time, deeper, tasting her smile before she could even form words.

“Don’t tempt me,” she whispered against his lips.

“Tempting is my specialty. And you, Boots, you’re the full-course meal.”

“Although, you’re particularly interested in my peach pie.”

“Now you’re talking dirty.” He took his hat off her and dropped it on her head then started walking toward the exit.

“What was that for?” she asked.

“In these parts when a man gives a lady his hat, he’s telling every prick in a three-mile radius she’s his.”

Vivi felt a delicious mix of pride and something dizzyingly intoxicating. It was the kind of claim that made her pulse race because it was public without being shouted—a bold, old-fashioned gesture that said, I choose you.