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“I want to stay the night. And I don’t want you to sleep in a different bedroom.”
Boone exhales and I can tell by the look on his face that was the answer he was hoping for. I don’t get any other opportunity to wonder what’s going through his mind because he’s on me.
Yanking me up from the couch, he bestows on me a sizzling kiss that weakens my knees, so it’s a good thing he has his arm wrapped around my waist to hold me up. All my senses fire at once and it’s overwhelming—the domineering glide of his tongue against mine, the tingle of pain as a hand fists in my hair, the rough graze of his beard against my cheek as he moves his lips to my ear. “Let’s get you something to sleep in.”
“What?” I mumble.
Boone chuckles as he takes me by the hands. “I’ll get you a T-shirt to sleep in and I have an extra toothbrush for you.”
My mind whirls. I’m a little confused but Boone has taught me to ask and he will be honest. “Are we going to sleep right now?”
“After I give you an orgasm.” I stumble as I follow him through the living room and he squeezes my hand. Looking over his shoulder, he grins. “Maybe two.”
An ache forms between my legs. I’m embarrassed that he speaks so frankly about it and yet it emboldens me to ask, “Am I going to be able to give you an orgasm tonight?”
Boone groans, turning to face me. He lifts my hand to his lips where he does what has now become a patented move, brushing a kiss over my knuckles. “How about we play that by ear? I want this to be about you.”
“I want it to be about you too though,” I reply. “I want you to have pleasure.”
“Giving you pleasure is going to give me pleasure. Trust me on that.”
I stare at him helplessly. He’s reduced me to silence.
Boone chuckles and pulls me back into him for another kiss. A soft one, brief and reassuring. “I don’t mean to fluster you but God, you’re fucking adorable when I do.”
With my hand once again in his, he guides me through his apartment to the master bedroom. It’s spartan, although the furniture is nice. Sleek and contemporary like the stuff in his living room. His comforter is a dark gray and his sheets are white, all of it slightly mussed, indicating a man who doesn’t make his bed routinely but doesn’t do a lot of tossing and turning. A single framed photo sits on a bedside table—what I’m thinking might be his family—and I make a note to study it later.
Boone releases me and moves to his dresser where he pulls out a plain white T-shirt. He nods toward the master bath, handing me the shirt. “You’ll find extra toothbrushes under the sink. Help yourself to anything you want in there, and my apologies if I forgot to put the toilet seat down.”
Laughing, I take the T-shirt. “I live with two males. This isn’t my first rodeo.”
In the bathroom, I’m impressed the toilet seat is down. I take a minute to do my business, washing my hands, then my face. I find the toothbrushes right where he said they’d be. There are several under there and I wonder if that’s because he has women stay over often. I try to sweep that thought away as I get ready for bed because it’s none of my business.
Except… what if everything that Boone just told me is a well-rehearsed line to get a girl in his bed?
You can stay the night. We can do separate rooms if you want. But if we do sleep in the same bed, I’ll give you pleasure and I don’t need anything in return.
Which… really makes me want to jump his bones.
Damn it.
When I’m done, I hesitantly open the door expecting to find Boone lounging naked on the bed with a sly look on his face, having thoroughly seduced me with words.
Except he’s not.
He’s standing at his dresser, removing his watch. He’s wearing… pajamas too. A pair of gray, black and white plaid pants with a dark gray T-shirt. “Find everything okay?” he asks with a smile.
I nod, holding my clothes to my chest. The T-shirt he gave me comes to mid-thigh and covers everything.
Nodding at the bed, Boone says, “Choose whatever side you want. I’m going to brush my teeth.”
When the bathroom door closes behind me, my worst attack of doubt hits and I consider putting my clothes back on and running for the door. This seems like a grand ruse to get in my pants and while I wasn’t averse to it five minutes ago, that was when I believed that maybe I was different and special to Boone.
Before I found a dozen toothbrushes under his sink.
I nibble on my thumbnail, clutching onto my pile of clothes. Surely, I’m wrong. Boone isn’t that type of guy. He’s sweet, devoted to Aiden and selfless in his care and concern. He could have pressed an advantage on me during that first date. After a yacht ride down the river to view the city lights, the man certainly could’ve gotten laid.
The bathroom door opens and Boone steps out, flipping off the light behind him. His forehead wrinkles with concern as he takes me in. “What’s wrong?”
