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She removed her pajamas and panties. Then his hands began to travel everywhere; her chest, her sides, her thighs, until he was pulling her up to straddle him. He cupped both breasts, tweaking her nipples, and then his hands moved lower, down over her thighs until he was squeezing her bottom, grinding her against his cock.
Yeah, that’s where she wanted him. “God, yes, right there.” She moaned.
He gave an inherently masculine moan and reached for her, turning her around so she was kneeling, her hands gripping the headboard. He’d shifted beneath her, and suddenly his face nestled between her thighs. Her eyes rolled back into her head at the first lick of her sensitive flesh. “Right here, Peyton?”
“Yes!” she gasped.
His low moan tickled against her nub and it sent shivers through her. Every soft lick against her folds had her shifting her hips, enhancing the pleasure. His hands gripped her bottom, squeezing tight while his tongue delighted her. So much so, she began rocking her hips, riding his mouth. Sensation overwhelmed her when he moaned against her sex again, obviously liking the way she owned her pleasure. She moved faster then, gently teasing her clit on his tongue, until he sucked hard.
With a gasp, her body froze, and then a second later, she unraveled, shuddering against his mouth, gloriously quivering into her pleasure.
She came back to herself when he reached for her, shifting himself back up the bed, and positioned her so that she straddled his waist. She pressed her heat against his erection as he reached for his wallet on the nightstand and took out a condom. They were both breathing deep when he rolled the condom onto his cock. And when his lips returned to hers, as if he couldn’t take a break from her, she couldn’t fight the needy moan that escaped. God, he made her feel, want, and need all at once. His tongue deeply stroked hers, and she kissed him back with the same fervor, wanting to feel alive. Boone made her feel alive.
Desperation consumed her when she wiggled her hips and found the tip of his cock. She slowly took him in, relishing the low moan he gave. Needing to stare into his eyes, this man who brought her back from a cold place, she leaned back from his kiss and held his face in her hands. She slid up and down his shaft, lost in how he watched her. Intense. Aroused. Captivated.
She was all that. And so much more.
Losing herself in how amazing they fit together, she rocked her hips, arching her back into the pleasure. His masculine scent mixed with their sex infused the air while she ground against him searching for more. His hands explored her, not missing a spot she desperately wanted him to touch. Sometimes he cupped her neck. Other times he squeezed her breasts or her bottom. But he always seemed to move back to her face, her lips, always touching and looking at her. And in that touch, she wanted to lose herself, because she did trust Boone. Safe. With him, she had no fear. Her nightmares couldn’t touch her. Nor could anything touch her while she was wide awake.
She shifted her hips faster and faster, feeling beautiful and wanted and so much more. She rocked her hips harder, urged on by the his deep, throaty groans.
The pleasure soon began peaking. Her moans were uncontrollable now, as were his.
Boone’s gaze intensified, expression tightened, and his cock grew thicker and harder inside her. His hands came to her hips, bracing and helping her gain speed. Skin slapped against skin. She cupped his face now, staring at this incredible man while they found pleasure in all this chaos.
“Fuck.” Boone grunted, low and deep.
She lost sight of him then as her pleasure took her soaring over the edge with him. Pulse after pulse, wave after wave of euphoria, she free-fell into the pleasure they created. A space that belonged only to him, and she trusted that, no matter what happened, he’d never let her crash.
* * *
Between the glow of the clock reading 2:00 a.m., the full moon outside brightening up Peyton’s bedroom, and Boone’s concerns, there wasn’t a hope in hell that Boone would sleep tonight. On his side, he stared at Peyton while she slept soundly, the moonlight casting over her pretty face. He reached out, stroked the hair away from her cheek, needing to see her.
Someone was coming for her, Boone could feel it in his bones. And her subconscious was giving her the same warning.
Why?
Boone had interrogated thousands of people over the years. He could spot a liar a mile away. Peyton was no liar. He believed every word of what she told him about her life in Seattle. He believed the shock that the person in the SUV appeared to be hunting her in her e
yes.
Eyes that slowly opened, looking sleepy and content. “Hi,” she said softly.
“Hi.” He brushed the tips of his fingers across her cheekbone. Christ, he didn’t want to worry her. But the truth was he couldn’t find a single link to anyone who would want to hurt her. And it seemed inconceivable to believe that all this was a coincidence.
There was a connection there between her late husband’s car accident and the one yesterday. Boone simply needed to find it.
Obviously, Peyton read his frustration. Her brows drew together as she slid her hands beneath her cheek and the pillow. “Can’t sleep?”
“A lot on my mind,” he admitted.
“The case?”
He nodded. “That, and other things.”
Peyton watched him closely, her eyes opening wider, more awake now. “I’m really sorry that all this reopened your wounds with Chelsea.”
He knew why her mind went there. She’d seen a peek into his fucked-up past, all because he bared his wounds so that she would open up hers. Truth was, only Peyton was on his mind. “Those wounds were open long before we talked last night.”
