Page 92 of The One Who Saw Her: Boone

Everywhere.

She started with a slow rolling trot that had him groaning low and gripping her waist with both hands like a guy who’d just realized he’d hit the jackpot in the middle of a rodeo. She kept her pace teasing, tilting her hips just enough to make him chase it, her hands braced on his thighs like she was mounting a stubborn steed—but he was the one about to be ridden into oblivion.

"Christ," he gritted out. "You're going to ruin me before we've even started."

"I guess it's time for a little canter."

She felt his sharp inhale as she picked up the pace, hips finding a rhythm entirely her own. He let out a rough hiss, one hand locked on her hip, the other yanking her hair until her head tipped back.

"Look at me."

She turned her head and glanced back over her shoulder—just enough.

"You ready to admit I've got you right where I want you?" she whispered, grinding down slow and deep.

She leaned forward, teasing every angle, every nerve ending, and let him feel the full force of her—every thrust, every tilt, every deliberate roll of her hips a separate and distinct challenge.

And he was loving the fight. She could feel it in how tightly he held her, in the restrained grunt that escaped him every time she hit exactly the right spot.

By the time she slammed back into him, they'd broken free of the paddock entirely—racing over open ground, kicking up nothing but speed and heat and the wild, untamed pleasure of two people who couldn't get enough. Boone's jaw locked, every muscle taut, his body matching hers beat for beat. The room dissolved until there was nothing left but motion and heat and the sound of their ragged breath.

"Vivi." Her name in his mouth sounded like a warning, or maybe a prayer. Either way, she could listen to him for eternity.

She reached back and pressed a finger to his lips, laughing breathlessly. "Shh. Let the horse do the talking."

And they flew—fast, free, completely reckless, and ridiculously, gloriously alive.

Her hands wandered, but stayed just shy of claiming, just enough to make him ache without letting him win outright. Each touch, each laugh, each drag of lips across skin was a conversation—a challenge that neither of them had the first idea who would give in first.

She arched against him, chasing the pleasure as it coiled tighter and tighter until it broke, crashing through her in waves that buckled her thighs and made her vision blur. She yanked the hat from her head and swung it skyward like a battle flag.

"Fuck yeah!" she screamed.

Boone's groan hit her chest like a drumbeat reverberating so loud she felt it in her bones. It was ridiculous and perfect and exactly right. Like she was the queen of the known world, wild and untamed and entirely herself.

The hat landed somewhere on the floor and their bodies stayed tangled, still trembling, riding out the aftershocks until every nerve ending hummed quietly. Her laughter mixed with his ragged breath and the room felt too small for both and the heat they'd made inside it.

When the last wave settled into a low, satisfied burn, they leaned into the quiet together. Her hair stuck to her forehead, his chest still rising and falling against her back, and there was this sinful, almost silly sense of victory—like they'd stolen something precious, just for themselves.

CHAPTER 36

Boone woke to the soft weight of Vivi draped across him, her hair tangled against his chest like it had claimed him in the night. The morning light cut through the blinds, painting lines over her skin, and for a second, he just stared, afraid to breathe too loudly and wake her.

His chest tightened in a way it hadn't in years—a mix of awe and something fierce that told him, yeah, he was already in over his head. Hell, he had been for a while now.

He didn't want to get out of bed or let go because this—her, here, after everything—felt like coming home to a place he hadn't known he was missing.

"You're thinking so loud I can almost make out the words," she said, her voice still rough and low from earlier. Just the sound of it made him want another slow, unhurried round of absolutely everything. "What's up?"

He looked down and lifted a brow.

Her laugh was warm and unguarded. The kind of laugh that did something irreversible to his chest. "I mean besides the obvious."

"I was thinking about how good this feels." His arm tightened around her without asking his permission.

"Mmm." She burrowed deeper against him, and his heart did a slow, helpless roll.

"This is pretty damn amazing," he said in case she needed clarification. "And that I want more."