Page 91 of The One Who Saw Her: Boone

When the last of him had spent, she drew back slowly, dragging her lips up his length until she reached the crown with another quiet pop, and followed with the lightest scrape of her fingertips from base to tip. Every inch made him shiver and shift, caught between restraint and ruin.

Vivi wasn't sure what she expected next—but it sure as hell wasn't being hauled off the chair and tossed over a very large, very bare shoulder in a fireman's hold.

She squealed, then—hat clutched to her head with one hand—smacked his backside with the other.

"It's like that, huh?" The dark amusement in his voice sent heat straight down her spine. "Now it's your turn to scream some fuck yeahs."

Before she could get a single word out, a big, masculine retaliatory hand came down on her ass with a crack that made her jump. Not enough to hurt her—just enough to remind her exactly who was boss.

Payback never felt so good.

He tossed her onto the bed and she bounced, laughing. He was already moving, crawling up her body without stopping until his mouth found hers in a drugging kiss that rewrote everything she thought she knew about foreplay. It was languid and lustful and completely, devastatingly thorough, and Vivi's entire history of being kissed restructured itself around this moment.

If a single kiss could reduce me to this, she thought hazily, actually having sex with him in this state was going to destroy me.

He laughed softly against her lips and the sound rolled down her belly like it had a GPS straight for the southernmost parts of Vivi. Boone had this ridiculous, infuriating ease about him—a superpower that left her flustered, flushed, and halfway convinced she was losing all control.

"You like that?" He pulled back just enough to nip her bottom lip.

She moaned in ecstasy. Her pulse was somewhere in the atmosphere, her skin prickling in all the best places.

His mouth found hers again, leaving her wondering if he even knew the fire he could ignite with just a smile. Every flicker of his gaze felt like a dare, every casual lean closer a challenge, and she was more than willing to lose this round.

His lips met hers, and her brain short-circuited because this was the full-on, sparks-everywhere, can't-breathe, need-to-rethink-every-life-decision kind of kiss. He kissed her with a slow purposefulness. So purposeful she could feel it in the deliberate drag of each tease, the unhurried press of his mouth, like he wanted her to feel every last detail.

"Now," she murmured, breathless. "About those riding lessons?"

"First," he said, his tongue tracing the swell of her breast where it spilled over her corset. "I want to taste every inch of you."

"You promised me a fuck yeah and I want my fuck yeah,” she demanded with a sweet smile.

"There's time."

"The time is now."

He rose onto his elbows and looked down at her, expression somewhere between amused and undone. "You're going to be the death of me."

"If you're going to die, can you at least get my fuck yeah out first? It's only fair."

Something shifted behind his eyes. "Want to see fair?"

He picked her up like she weighed nothing, sat on the edge of the bed, and then with a grace that had no business existing in a six-foot-something cowboy, spun her around to face away from him, her ass settling onto his bare erection. And since her chaps were assless, she was sitting reverse-cowgirl with nothing but skin on delicious skin.

Hands around her hips, he jerked her backward until her hands were forced to land on either side of his thighs and her ass landed inches from his face. She went to cover it, but he clucked his tongue.

“Don’t hide that pretty ass from me." He gave a light smack to underscore his point.

Then his hands slid to her waist and he began to drag her slowly forward and back, her folds covered his massive penis, which was already reaching for the stars. Speaking of reaching for the stars, her nipples were straining against the corset like they were trying to escape the gravitational pull of the man beneath her.

Back and forth—every drag wetter than the last. The tension coiled, and heat bloomed slick between her thighs.

"Ready, Boots?"

She heard the cellophane tear, and then he was covered, nudging at her entrance with devastating patience. One hand splayed flat against her entrance—not guiding, just holding, like he needed to feel her breathing.

"Now straddle me and ride me like you’re a rodeo champion.”

Vivi lifted her hips and let him in slowly, taking a breath to adjust to the sheer size of him. He was massive.