Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
I pick up a throw blanket from the back of the couch and drape it around her shoulders. She holds it tight, like it gives her something to focus on. Meeting Boone’s gaze, I lift my chin to let him know I was moving, then I transfer her from the arm she’d been lying on to his.
She moves languidly, willingly rolling her head onto his shoulder instead and not questioning me when I get up. I don’t want her to think I’m just abandoning her though, so I bend over and brush a kiss to her temple.
“I’ll be right back,” I murmur before straightening up and pulling on my shorts.
I jog to the bathroom down the hall and grab a washcloth, wetting it before I head back. When I hit the living room, I pause in the doorway, taking in her long mahogany hair draped over Boone’s arm, his dark head bent close to hers, his eyes closed.
A glass of water sits on the floor beside her, but Dillon is nowhere to be found.
She has one leg hooked over Boone’s thigh, her fingertips absently trailing patterns on his bare chest. Late afternoon sunlight spills through the windows, casting a golden hue across the scene that makes it feel a little like a dream.
Not wanting to interrupt the peace of the moment, I pad quietly across the room, kneeling beside her and showing her the cloth when she looks up at me. Confusion flickers in her eyes for a second before her eyebrows rise and understanding dawns across her face.
“Seriously?” she murmurs.
I nod in response to her question. “Seriously. Unless you’d rather do it yourself?”
Her gaze remains hooked on mine for another moment, her lower lip caught between her teeth before she slowly shakes her head. Rolling a little more onto her back, she shuts her eyes, still biting her lip as I move the blanket aside to run the cloth across her chest.
Her skin is flushed, her nipples swollen and tender looking. Carefully, I keep the pressure light as I clean her up, gently wiping her breasts, her curvy stomach, and finally running the cloth between her legs.
She sucks in a sharp breath when I reach the apex of her thighs, her pulse jumping under her jaw, but she doesn’t move or open her eyes. When I’m done, I drop the cloth on the tiles and sit back on my knees, seeing the resignation in Boone’s gray eyes when I glanced at him.
I get where he’s coming from. I can practically feel her emotional retreat myself, like those guards of hers are slowly slamming back into place.
She finally opens her eyes but doesn’t meet ours. Instead, she stands up, letting the blanket slide from her shoulders to her chest and quickly wrapping it around herself. “I think I’m going to head to bed.”
“I’ll walk you,” I offer automatically.
She doesn’t argue, just letting me guide her up the stairs and down the hall. The air between us feels different now, still charged, but gentler somehow. When we reach her door, she turns to face me, one hand on the frame like she isn’t sure if she wants to step through yet.
“Thanks,” she says quietly. “For… everything.”
“Anytime,” I tell her, and I mean it. I hesitate for a beat, but when she doesn’t move to go into the room, I lean over and press a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be right downstairs if you need anything, okay?”
When I draw back, her eyes are soft and sleepy, but her brow is still a little furrowed. “Thanks, but I think I’m just going to crash. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“See you in the morning.” I wait until she disappears into the room and shuts the door behind her, then I just stand there in the hall for a long moment, waiting in case she realizes she wants to say something else.
It feels like something new and inevitable is taking root between us all. Like whatever started tonight won’t be ending anytime soon, but the way she’d withdrawn afterward is worrying.
Finally realizing she really is in her bedroom for now, I turn and go back to the kitchen and find Boone leaning against the counter with a beer in his hand as he looks out at the sun setting. Dillon sits on the island, swinging one leg like he’s waiting for a verdict of some sort.
Neither of them looks up when I come in, but Boone finally breaks the silence with a heavy sigh. “We might’ve moved too fast.”
I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and twist off the cap. “Yeah. I’ve been thinking the same thing.”
Dillon lifts his head, his expression caught somewhere between guilt and defiance. “She didn’t exactly seem against it. You both saw her. She was into it. And she said she wanted it.”