Branded: You Own Me & The Virgin's Night Out (15 page)

He hadn’t spoken more than two words in the past thirty minutes.

Sloane knew, because she’d been counting each and every minute. She kept her eyes on the digital clock, and could almost count down every minute by the beat of her heart.

When he first pulled out, she’d felt bruised, almost painfully empty and she’d been unsure of what to do, how to act. Did she get dressed? Leave?

He’d disappeared into the bathroom and she’d thought maybe she should just get up and go.

But even as she’d sat up to do that, he’d come back out, slid into the bed behind her and pulled her up against him.

“You okay?”

She’d nodded and he’d sighed, tucking her into the curve of his body. It felt…good. Almost perfect, actually and she hadn’t been able to pull away.

But that had been thirty minutes ago and the silence was killing her.

She licked her lips and told herself it was time to go.

Taking a deep breath, she went to sit up.

And his lips brushed over her shoulder.

“You have the softest skin.”

The words were soft, so soft they came like a caress in the darkness.

She shivered as he gathered up her hair and pushed it over her shoulder, pressed a kiss to her spine, now bared. “And your hair…I wanted to wrap it around my hands and kiss you practically the moment I saw you.”

“You…” Sloane blinked. “You what?”

He laughed in the darkness. “You heard me.”

He rolled her onto her belly and she didn’t think to resist. When he reached between her thighs, she caught her breath. “Are you sore?”

he asked, pushing one finger inside her.

She moved her hips back against him, barely able to focus on his question. Was she sore? Yes. Did it matter? Not to her.

“If I say yes, are you going to stop?” she asked.

“It depends on how sore you are,” he said. “And whether or not you want me to stop.”

She jumped as she felt his lips brush over the curve of her butt. “Your legs are killing me. I want to feel you riding me, feel you wrapped around me again,” he said, the words murmured against her skin. “How sore are you?”

“Not very sore,” she lied.

He caught her hips and rearranged her, half on her side, half on her belly. Her hair fell around her like a veil and he caught it in his hand, brushed it away. Her mouth parted as he straddled one of her thighs and lay down against her. “Should I stop?” he said.

“Please don’t.”

Closing her eyes, she lay there, unmoving, as he reached around. She knew what he was doing when she heard the foil rip and she tried not to think about anything as he put the rubber on. But she couldn’t stop it—couldn’t stop herself from thinking about the movement of his hands, the muscled length of his thighs, and then… “Oh…” the moan tripped out of her as he pressed against her.

“I’ll be slower this time.” He slid one hand up and

cupped her breast as he pushed into her from behind, his thrusts slow, less deep…but still every bit as intimate and because she was still so sensitive, she felt stretched too tight and too full and she loved every long, lingering minute.

Boone made himself take his time.

He made himself bring her to a slow, easy climax despite the urge he had to pull her to her knees and drive into her, brand her, mark her. He’d never had that need with a woman, had never known that when a night ended, he’d remember it for the rest of his life, but he knew this was a night that would haunt him.

After she was moaning and all but sobbing against him, he

wrapped his forearm around her waist and gave in, riding her harder,

quicker—but it didn’t take much. With five quick thrusts, he was coming, semen jetting from him in hard, vicious spurts.

Sweating and panting, he closed his eyes. A vicious curse rose in his throat and he locked it behind his teeth. It was just sex—one night of sex with a beautiful woman he’d never see again.

A beautiful virgin who’d made him smile, then made his heart catch even as he wanted to throttle any bastard who dared to hurt her—and that had all been within the first few minutes of seeing her.

Abruptly, he pulled away, his cock making a soft, sucking sound as it left the snug embrace of her vagina and he stood, hitting the lights.

She flinched as the bright lights came on but he ignored it as he strode into the bathroom.

He had to get his head together.

No. You need to get back in bed. There’s one more condom
.

He was tempted to listen to the voice.

Almost turned around.

But then he went to deal with the rubber and froze.

It had broken.

• • •

Sloane sat locked in her room.

She felt very much like an idiot.

She’d snuck away while he was in the shower.

She couldn’t help it.

She’d panicked.

He’d come storming out of the bathroom, face livid, fury all over his features.

The condom tore
.

He’d thrown the words out like it was her fault.

It hadn’t taken any more than a few seconds for him to take a deep breath and now she wished she would have done the same thing, given herself a chance to calm down, but that look…

It had brought back a million insecurities from childhood.

That hadn’t been the face of a man who’d handle a child well.

Granted, it wasn’t like either of them had set out with anything like that in mind.

That was why they’d used the condoms.

He should feel a little better, at least.

She’d had an awful time with her periods ever since she was a teenager and she’d started on low dose birth control when she was in high school, so more than likely, she was protected on that front. He’d also assured her that he was healthy, had even offered to send her the results from a physical he’d just had done.

She’d just stared at him.

Finally, he’d told her he was going to take a shower. Then they’d…talk.

That was what he’d said.

Talk.

Sloane didn’t want to talk.

She’d made one crazy decision without thinking it through and look at what happened.

She had fabulous sex with a gorgeous stranger and the condom broke.

“So I’ll deal with it,” she said quietly, pressing her head against the glass. It wasn’t like she wasn’t able to take care a child.

A child.

Even as she thought it, something warm and sweet slid through her and she reached down, pressed a hand to her belly. It wouldn’t happen. She knew that. But even the idea of having a baby suddenly flooded her entire being with longing.

A baby…

• • •

Boone stood at the front desk, added another fifty to the one

he’d already laid down.

“She was wearing a red dress. She would have just left in the past ten minutes,” he said softly. He leaned forward, not bothering to hide the menace in his voice.

She’d slipped out of the room while he was showering.

He couldn’t fucking
believe
it.

He’d needed five minutes—just five minutes—to get away from the bruised look he’d put in her eyes. If he’d just managed to get himself under control before he’d left the bathroom, maybe he wouldn’t be down here, trying to get water from a stone, but he needed to track her down.

Somehow.

She’d left and he still hadn’t gotten her name.

He’d go back to the bar tonight and talk to the bartender, talk to others in the club. He’d already taken the last condom and tucked it into a plastic bag. If he had to, he’d get somebody at the DDX labs to dust it for fingerprints, although yeah,
that
would raise some questions.

It didn’t matter, though.

He’d track her down somehow.

“Sir.” The clerk swallowed nervously and gestured to the empty lobby. “Nobody has come through here. It stays pretty quiet in here.”

Boone rested his hands on the counter, staring hard at the skinny kid. After a few more seconds, he turned away, leaving the two fifties there as he walked away. So if she hadn’t left, then…he came up short just in front of the stairwell.

Maybe she was staying at the hotel.

Turning, he eyed the clerk again. “How many rooms you got here?”

The kid blinked. “Ah…fifty.”

“Any idea how many are booked?”

“All of them.” He didn’t even have to think before he answered. “Usually we don’t even have a third of that number booked, but there’s a big wedding…” his words trailed off and he shrugged. “We’re just busy this weekend.”

The wedding. Narrowing his eyes, Boone turned away.

Well,
that
would make things awkward, but he supposed it was possible he’d find her at the wedding.

Tyler just might kick his ass over it, too.

“So how did it feel to hit Rodney?”

Sloane winced and met Ellen’s gaze in the mirror.

Ellen grinned at her. She sat on a low stool while her cousin coiffed and curled and combed her pale blonde hair into a confection of pearls and lustrous ringlets. She hadn’t yet put on her dress, although she wore the foundation pieces, stockings, garters, some sort of torture device that Ellen swore wasn’t uncomfortable, but Sloane knew she had to be lying. It was a corset—and a real, steel-boned corset. There was no
way
that could be comfortable.

All of it was in the softest, gentle shade of ivory and Ellen’s peaches and cream complexion glowed against it.

She looked beautiful, a slightly naughty angel in her state of undress. And she grinned at her soon-to-be sister in law with complete and utter surety. “You’re going to spill,” Ellen said after her cousin stepped out, giving the two of them a few moments to chat. Ellen, like Sloane, had lost her mother and her dad wasn’t in the picture. The two of them had bonded, hard and fast. “I already know what happened last night. I heard—from several sources. I just want confirmation.”

I already know—

Tensing, Sloane met Ellen’s eyes, searching for signs of the secret. But it wasn’t there.

Just humor—a wicked glint of it.

“Ah…”

“Oh, come on. You only dreamed about doing it for months.”

Blood rushed to Sloane’s cheeks. “I did not!” she said.

Her hands were sweating. Okay, so yeah, she’d been kind of curious about sex. Why wouldn’t she be? She was twenty-three years old and up until a few hours ago, she’d been a virgin. Curiosity was
expected
.

“Don’t give me that.” Ellen just sighed, shaking her head. “It had to feel good, after how he treated you.”

Sloane scowled. “What do you mean, how he treated me?”

Ellen frowned. “Are you okay? I mean, you talked about belting

Rodney for months—I never did understand why you wouldn’t let your brothers do it, but then again, I didn’t have two big older brothers constantly stepping in like you did…okay,
now
what?”

Sloane turned away, one hand pressed to her mouth to keep the half-hysterical giggle trapped inside. She was going crazy. Delusional from lack of sleep and maybe some weird high caused by massive orgasms after a lifetime of having the pitiful excuse she’d
thought
were climaxes. Too much excitement could probably strain a person’s mind, she thought. And last night had been more excitement than she’d ever experienced in her life.

“Nothing,” she said, catching sight of Ellen getting of the stool where she’d been perched while they made her even more beautiful. “Look…I just…”

She decided to ride the excuse of her crazy train. “I think I went a little crazy last night. I’ve…uh…” Plastering the widest, fakest smile she could on her face, she said in an overbright voice. “I’ve decided to pretend the entire thing
never
happened.”

“Oh, come
on
.” Ellen rolled her eyes. “You can’t regret hitting him.”

“Wanna bet?” She looked down at her raw, scraped knuckles. They were swollen, but not bad. She’d put ice on them once she’d gotten in her room and she’d ended up falling asleep with the bag of ice on her hand—that ice had melted and the cold water leaking out was what had woken her, not long after dawn.

Showing her hand to Ellen, she said, “Hitting people
hurts
.”

“Ouch.” Ellen grimaced.

“But…” Sloane heaved out a breath and turned away, looking out the window to the gentle rolling green that stretched out all around them. The church was tucked away in one of the small valleys and Sloane, along with her brothers, had spent many a Sunday here. It was probably a bad thing to stand there, in church, and let a smile creep over her face as she thought about last night.

“Yeah,” she said after a moment. “It felt good.”

The entire night
, she thought to herself. Right up until that panicked

moment when they realized what happened with the condom.

“If it felt so good, then why do you keep disappearing off into nowhere and looking so glum?”

Looking over her shoulder at the woman who’d come to be such a good friend, she searched for an answer. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just still feeling rundown from being sick last week.”

“Uck…strep.” Ellen wrinkled her nose and turned back around. “You catch everything in that library, Sloane.”

“Nah. I don’t catch chickenpox—Pierce took care of that.” Sadness tugged at her heart and she moved up to stand behind Ellen. She bent down and hugged her soon-to-be-sister-in-law. “I wish you could have known him.”

“Me, too.” Ellen caught her forearm and squeezed. “Cheer up, honey. I don’t want you sad on my wedding day. Especially not after you popped that no-good son of a bitch right in the mouth.”

“I will.” Then she moved to the door as Ellen’s cousin Amanda knocked and called out. “Now…I need to go and see if Tyler was able to come through for me. I had to ask him for a favor at the last minute.”

“Oh?” Ellen narrowed her eyes.

“Don’t worry about it.” She wiggled her fingers. “Mama had a pair of old lace gloves she kept in her jewelry box. It’s been sitting in my old bedroom for years. I used to play with them all the time. I had him grab them for me. I want to see how they’ll look with my dress…and if it will cover my hand.”

• • •

He felt like a bastard, standing there in the shadows while Tyler talked with the groomsmen, men he’d known his entire life. Boone was supposed to be his best man and when had he shown up?

Twenty minutes ago.

He had his tux. One thing Boone knew how to do was get ready for any situation and he’d been ready. He’d also told Tyler month ago that he should find somebody else—he’d used work as an excuse, tried a hundred other ways to make him see the wisdom of getting somebody else to stand up with him.

Tyler had simply said, “I’ve got two brothers, man. One by blood and I lost him. I want you there.”

Boone hadn’t been able to ignore that and even though he’d kept dodging the calls, the requests by Ellen to come in and get fitted, the one thing he couldn’t dodge was today.

He’d even been able to dodge the dress rehearsal—that had almost been excusable, even, although the boss had apologized to hell and back. “You’re the best man I got for this job—if I had any other option, I wouldn’t do this to you and Tyler.”

He’d gotten back the day of the rehearsal, but he hadn’t been able to make it to town in time. Nope, he’d driven into town about nine o’clock last night and although he’d texted Tyler and let him know, he hadn’t done anything but have himself a drink—and then…her.

He’d spent half the night brooding and kicking his own ass, and the other half planning what he’d say and how he’d say it if he found her here. While he was doing that, though, he’d been working on his back-up plan. He’d go back to Huley’s, that bar where he’d been. The bartender seemed to know her. So Boone would talk to him. If that man didn’t talk, he’d find somebody who would.

“Tyler! Your sister’s at the door!”

Boone glanced up. Sloane…son of a bitch. He’d forgotten he’d have to find her and tell her thanks for all the letters. Though they’d never met, her letters had often been a bright spot in a somewhat grim existence. Even after Pierce had died, she’d continued to write.

Even when he hadn’t shown up for the funeral.

He needed to say…

Everything in him went numb.

The slim brunette came into the room, a nervous smile on her face as she glanced around. She didn’t see him—and Boone was damn glad.

Shit.

Oh,
shit
—

The body was right. The slim curves were right. The grace…the

dark wealth of hair, although it spilled down her back in loose curls instead of a straight, heavy fall.
Maybe I’m just seeing her because I want to

see her…

“Sloane, you look gorgeous,” Tyler said, reaching out to grab his sister and pick her up. He swung her around and a quick laugh bubbled out of her throat.

“Put me down, you knucklehead. If I have to fix my hair again because of you, I’ll hurt you.”

Tyler put her down, still grinning.

And Boone closed his eyes.

He’d slept with his best friend’s baby sister.

“I think that might actually worry me,” Tyler said, his voice teasing, but laden with affection. “You already decked one guy since you came home.”

From where he stood, Boone watched as Sloane went red. “He…uh. Well…”

“He asked for it,” one of the other groomsmen said.

Boone’s brain supplied the man’s name—and the quickest method of putting him down—as Forrest Corbin came up and hugged Sloane. Hugged her too tight and did his hand have to rest—

You’ve lost your mind
. Boone jerked his mind away from how low on her hip Forrest’s hand rested and tried to focus on breathing. He had to figure out—

“Hey, Boone! Get your antisocial self out of the corner and come here.”

All eyes swung toward him.

The neck of his tuxedo felt way too tight. The temperature seemed to skyrocket as he pushed off the wall, moving out of the shadows of the long, narrow room the groom and his groomsmen had been given for the wedding.

For a moment, Sloane just stared.

Tyler—for once—was too distracted to notice much of anything. “Sloane, this is Boone. Boone, my sister. You two have been writing to each other for…”

“Years,” Sloane supplied, her voice oddly steady.

Her face was flushed. Her eyes glassy.

“We’ve been writing to each other for years,” she said.

Boone braced himself. Once she told Tyler they’d already met—and Tyler figured out how—Tyler wasn’t going to be happy. This was his wedding day, though, and—

“Boone.” She stepped forward and held out a hand. Polite. Distant. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Thrown off-balance, Boone lowered his gaze to stare at her hand. The back of her knuckles were raw and scraped, still swollen.
Nice to meet you…

Everybody was staring.

He shot out a hand just as Sloane went to lower hers. “Yeah. It’s…well.” He gave her a stiff nod.

“Your hand…”

She tugged away. “It’s nothing.”

Then she turned away and gave him her back.

Boone felt like she’d punched him in the gut.

Sloane.

He’d spent last night with Sloane Redding.

Funny, bright Sloane—

It had been hard enough to think about handling this responsibility—and without his cock exploding every time he thought about his mystery woman from last night, but now…

She wasn’t a stranger at all.

Although, judging by the way she’d just turned away from him, you couldn’t tell.

• • •

The second she could, Sloane escaped, clutching her mother’s lace gloves in one hand. She pressed the other to her stomach and when somebody came out of a room, she ducked into the closest open door.

A bathroom. Locking herself in, she closed her eyes.

Boone
.

She’d slept with
Boone
.

Her brothers had met plenty of guys in the service, talked about a number of them. But there had only been one she’d really wanted to meet. They’d bonded, Pierce had once said, almost like they’d known each other from birth. If he had to
pick
a brother, Tyler had once said, shoving Pierce away with a mock sneer, he would have picked somebody like Boone.

They’d been like brothers.

But he never came to visit.

So she’d written instead.

And now he was
here
—

Her legs trembled and if she hadn’t been wearing a dress that cost more than she usually spent on clothes in six months, she would have just sat on the cold tile floor.

“Talk about riding the crazy train,” she whispered to herself.

The door knob twisted.

Jolting in shock, she moved away from the door. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

She moved to the sink and turned it on, letting the water run although all she did was stand there.

The sound of the water covered the noise—she didn’t even hear the sound of the door being unlocked—from the outside. Boone was just suddenly there, filling the doorway, bigger than life.

Sucking in a breath, she shoved her hands under the water—biting, shockingly cold. “If you’re in that big of a hurry, there’s another restroom at the other end of the hall,” she said.

Wow.

She sounded nice and calm there.

“But you were in this one.”