Page 89 of The One Who Saw Her: Boone

Eli: A hat! He gave her the HAT. Nan is going to freak

Boone: I regret this family group chat more every single day

Eli: No you don't

Boone: No I don't

CHAPTER 35

Vivi had never ridden a horse, but tonight she was going to ride a cowboy.

She perched on the edge of the chair flipped around backward, a brown leather corset snug against her ribs, assless chaps leaving just enough to the imagination, and his cowboy hat tilted low, shadowing her face.

Steam curled from the bathroom and every splash from the shower made her pulse quicken. Boone had been in there for what felt like forever, but she didn't mind waiting. Not really. She was nervous, sure, but she couldn't stop thinking about him and the way they’d been with each other just hours ago.

Today had felt different—electric and real. Watching him in his element and doing what he loved? That had been something close to intoxicating. And the way he'd all but claimed her in front of Kayla?

That one action sparked something inside her, something too dangerous to consider. Hope always did though. Especially for a woman who didn't know where her life would take her next week—who didn't know if she'd still be chasing her own dreams or stuck spinning in someone else's orbit.

On one hand, she wanted to stay. To explore whatever this thing was between them—fully and without reservation. On the other, she couldn't ignore the reality. She couldn't abandon the rhythm she'd worked so hard to find and reshape her life to fit inside a small-town rancher's world.

Boone couldn't uproot his ranch and she couldn’t plant her adventures in a single place and call it home. Someone would have to give up their dreams for this to work. For him it was impossible. And she sure as hell wasn't ready to be the sacrificial lamb.

Again.

She tugged at the edge of her chaps, trying to distract herself from the image of him stepping out of that shower—all steam and slick skin, claiming her with that slow, knowing grin that made her dizzy. She gritted her teeth and tried to think like the woman she was outside of this moment—confident, untethered and unclaimed.

A low, easy laugh drifted through the door, and her stomach twisted. He had no idea how much she wanted him. Or maybe he did. Either way, waiting felt like balancing on the edge of a cliff, toes curled over, heart racing—and she wasn't sure if she wanted to step back or just leap.

The bathroom door swung open and Boone stepped out. Steam clung to his shoulders, water tracing lazy trails down his chest and arms, and the towel at his waist did absolutely nothing to hide the promise of what lay beneath.

Heat pooled low in her belly, and her brain short-circuited somewhere between holy hell and please don't let him catch me staring. Every confident movement, every drop of water, was a slow, torturous tease and Vivi had to fight the urge to crawl across the room and tear his towel off herself.

Water clung to his lashes and hair, catching the light of the bedside lamp, and Vivi—still perched on the edge of the chair—felt her thighs tremble.

His gaze locked onto her and didn't move.

"Christ almighty." His voice came out like it was scraped raw. "What are you wearing?"

"Riding clothes." She tipped the borrowed hat back with one finger, letting him take in every inch. Then she gave her ass tasing smack, making sure he understood exactly what assless meant. "I'm ready for my first lesson. I was thinking we start with a canter and work our way up to a full trot."

"Boots." He said it the way he said everything—like he had all the time in the world and intended to use every second of it. His eyes traveled her legs, unhurried and possessive, before a slow grin pulled at his mouth. "We're going to hit every speed, until we’re hitting the mattress so hard and fast that by the time we're done, you won't be able to walk come morning."

"Sounds like a challenge," she shot back, letting the tease linger in her voice as she rested her hand lightly on the chair's back.

He stepped closer and the scent of soap and something rugged cowboy filled the space between them. He didn't stop until he was right in front of her. With him being a giant, her sitting in the chair, and geometry being what it is, well, let’s just say that their bodies lined up perfectly for a fun little game of suck-and-blow.

"First," she said, reaching for the knot at his towel, "I believe I need to warm up the horse."

One sweep of her fingers and the towel hit the floor, leaving him in nothing but muscle and one hell of a hardon—solving the argument for the existence of gods.

Hung like a horse didn't begin to cover it. And you're going to taste every inch of him.

She grinned to herself, feeling wickedly bold. The kind of wicked that made her pulse spike, and her skin prickle. It was the same rush she imagined sneaking out of her bedroom window as a teenager to kiss a ridiculously hot guy on a motorcycle—only she'd never actually snuck out, and Boone didn't own a motorcycle. But if he did? This simmering, heart-in-her-throat, lace-beneath-her-body and leather-against-bare-skin feeling was exactly what it would feel like.

Daring.

She felt the kind of heat that made every nerve ending sit up and take notice. Her chest tightened, her skin more sensitive than ever, and the leather of the chaps against her suddenly felt like fire.