Unbreak My Heart (22 page)

“Anytime you want to do that, feel free. You don’t even have to ask.”

That got his focus back on my face. He angled his head and bit my bottom lip, holding it between his teeth like he’d held my clit. Flicking his tongue over it like he’d teased my clit.

My clit pulsed hard.

Then he let my lip go, only to kiss me in that fleeting manner, so he could watch my eyes as he fucked me.

The man was an animal in bed. His instincts were unparalleled. He knew when I needed more pressure on my clit but not harder thrusts. He knew I needed the stroke of his hand—on my leg, my side, my chest, my neck—to hit that next level right before I unraveled. So the soft scrape of his nails up and down the outside of my thigh pushed me that much closer.

Boone’s tongue swirled just inside my ear. “You ready to come?”

“I can’t come on command,” I panted. “But I’m close.”

Then he was back to kissing me. Hard. Fucking me. Hard. He eased back to say, “Come now. Let me see it.”

He did some flex and grind motion with his hips.

Sensations hit me from all sides: Boone’s breath on my lips, the throbbing in my clit, the rocking of his pelvis, the tight clamp of my pussy muscles around his cock, which was pulsing hard as he groaned above me.

Whoo-yeah. He could be as bossy in bed as he wanted after that.

My skin was sticky, my nipples ached, my throat was dry.

I’d never felt so…spectacular. And not just spectacularly fucked either.

Boone kept me
spooned against him as we caught our breath. He trailed his fingers up and down my arm.

I rolled over and faced him. Or rather, I faced his bare chest. His muscled bare chest. Now that we were lovers, would he let me touch him and kiss him any time I wanted? Would he let me lick and suck and taste? I bent forward and placed my lips on the upper curve of his left pec.

God. He smelled so good. I parted my lips, gliding them back and forth across his damp skin. He tasted good too. I flattened my palm on the right side of his chest to hold him in place as my mouth wandered to explore the left side. Was that thick slab of muscle always hard? Or was he flexing? I rubbed the side of my face across the top of his chest, loving how the firm flesh felt against mine. I buried my face above his sternum, letting his chest hair tickle my lips as I breathed him in. I liked that he had some chest hair. I didn’t like furry, but super smooth was kind of weird. The delineated line of his lower pecs grabbed my attention and my tongue darted out to follow the deep cut. How often did he have to lift weights to stay so amazingly ripped?

My fingers had been caressing the right side of his chest and my thumb connected with his nipple. I pressed kisses back up his torso until I reached the flat disk, circling it with just the tip of my tongue. Then I lapped at it, tasting the salt and musk of him. I used my teeth, watching how fast the disk pebbled when I blew a stream of air across it. I played around doing what I wanted until I realized Boone hadn’t said anything for quite some time. And I could feel his heart beating much harder.

I peered up at him.

“Having fun?” he asked in that sexy, growling tone.

I forgot about after-sex talk and everything else when faced with the glory of his chest. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I loved it.”

“You did? But I wasn’t doing anything specific like trying to turn you on.”

Boone curled his hand around the side of my face. “That’s why I loved it. But it did turn me the fuck on. Watching how much you liked touching me.”

“So I really can touch you any time I want?”

He laughed.

“Why is that funny?”

“Because of the look on your face. Like I’ve just given you a present.”

“Being here with you in the present is the best present I’ve ever gotten.”

Then I found myself flat on my back with Boone on top of me.

He hadn’t been kidding about being turned on.

I
couldn’t sleep.

I should’ve had the best sleep of my life in Sierra’s bed, with her wrapped around me.

But I was panicked. I needed to move. So I could think. So I could breathe.

When Sierra shifted her position, I escaped.

I found my athletic shorts in the foyer where I’d left them and slipped them on before I made a beeline for the sliding glass door in the kitchen and stepped into the night.

The patio tiles were still warm, as was the air. The light from the pool cast shimmery shadows across the water. I paused by the edge. Since I hadn’t seen exercise equipment, I couldn’t burn the feeling off. Maybe a quick dip would loosen me up. Cool me off. Keep these thoughts from churning and becoming murky.

I eased down the steps into the water that was colder than expected. I wished I could turn off the pool lights. Darkness and water would be my own sensory deprivation tank. To get that effect, I closed my eyes when I submerged myself, holding my breath until my lungs ached. I popped up like a cork and bobbed around for a bit before I sank below the surface again. I repeated this process a dozen times until the jittery feeling was gone.

After I climbed out of the water, I stretched out on the cement and stared at the sky. No clouds. No stars. Just the continual orange glow of urban light pollution. I closed my eyes. That panicked thought jumped out first thing.

She’ll think you’re a freak.

How can I tell her the truth?

How can you
not
tell her? She
will
know. It’s not like it won’t be obvious.

It hasn’t been so far.

Haven’t you lied to her enough? A lie of omission is still a lie.

Fuck.

I’d always resented my parents. But until that moment, I hadn’t really understood how much they’d fucked me up. I’d always told myself I didn’t care. And I hadn’t—not until now. Not until it mattered. Not until this ignorance in yet another part of me that had nothing to do with my dyslexia might cost me the one thing I couldn’t bear to lose—Sierra. Either by seeing her pity if I nutted up and told her the truth, or by sensing her frustration if I didn’t and she witnessed my inadequacies firsthand.

How fair was it that I could be so spectacularly fucked…after the most fucking spectacular night of my life?

I don’t know how long I lay there, mired in dark thoughts.

I heard the whisper of feet crossing the pavement.

Sierra.

She probably thought I’d run out on her.

Maybe I should have. Maybe she would’ve been better off.

No, you fuckhead. You are here. You will goddamn deal with this. If she kicks your ass to the curb it won’t be because you weren’t honest with her.

A beach towel landed on my belly and I jumped.

A puff of air flowed over me as she spread a towel out beside me. Softer scraping as she settled next to me on the cement.

I tucked my towel under my head as a pillow.

She broke the silence first. “You’re freaked out.”

“Yep.” I didn’t elaborate—yet—and she didn’t ask.

But she reached for my hand.

My heart raced.

One little thing. One thoughtful gesture that reminded me that I wasn’t alone. One small sign of solidarity with me.

But that was all it took.

I was all fucking in with this woman. No holding back anything.

I said, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You probably wouldn’t have since you’re so stealthy, Mr. Army Soldier, but the alarm for the patio door went off.”

In my haste to escape I hadn’t noticed the alarm—so much for my special training. “It did?”

“It’s funny how many times I’ve been woken up by a door alarm. Lu actually keeps track of how many of her hookups sneak out in the middle of the night.”

“Do they know that she knows exactly when they bail?”

“No. Which is why it’s so funny.” She paused. “Until it happened to me.”

My gut twisted. “You thought you’d get up and find me gone?”

“I wasn’t sure. I figured it was your turn for a freak-out moment since I’ve had several and hit the road at every major turning point so far.”

“The thought had crossed my mind to just…go.”

“Even if I would have found you gone, Boone, I would’ve come after you. Like you always come after me.” She squeezed my hand.

I squeezed hers back.

It didn’t seem odd that we were lying side by side on her patio, in the middle of the night, staring at the starless, cloudless sky.

“You want to talk about
why
you freaked out?” she asked gently.

“Yeah.” I paused. “And fuck no.”

Sierra laughed softly.

She didn’t push. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. I knew even if it took me a fucking hour to find my balls and spit this out, she’d still be right there beside me, waiting.

I compiled an ordered list in my head. High points. Low points. Problem was, they were all low points.

Quit stalling and man up.

It took two tries before I forced the words out. “I freaked out because I’ve never spent the entire night in bed with another person.”

“Never?”

“Never.”

“Not even as a kid?” she asked.

“Nope. Even with the shitty places we lived with my mom, I never shared a bed with my brother or sister.”

“You shared a bedroom with them?”

“Yeah. I spent plenty of nights in a sleeping bag on the floor.”

“What about during sleepovers with friends?”

I released a bitter laugh. “I didn’t have friends. On purpose, so no one knew how fucked up my home life was with my drugged-out mother. The closest I came to a sleepover was on the rare occasion I stayed with Aunt Carolyn or my uncles Chet and Remy.”

Sierra didn’t say anything. That’s when I noticed she’d started sweeping her thumb across the back of my hand, down to the bone in my wrist and back up. Maybe she wasn’t conscious of the constant movement. Maybe it was a way of calming herself. But that tender touch soothed me. Or maybe she knew I needed a connection to her, however small.

Back to supposing. Back to stalling. You started this, finish it.

I inhaled and exhaled, trying to stop my heart from racing like a trapped rabbit’s.

“Then I moved in with my dad and had my own room and a double bed. Man. I loved having all that space to stretch out in. The last thing I wanted was to share that with anyone. Even temporarily.”

“So your high school hookups?”

“Didn’t happen there.”

“I drove past your house once.” She paused. “Okay, more than once, but less than a hundred times. I always hoped you might be outside working on your motorcycle when I passed by and I could act all innocent. ‘Oh, Boone, you live here? I didn’t know that. But since I’m in the neighborhood…’”

I allowed a small smile at that image because that was exactly how the Sierra I’d known would’ve played it. “What happened after the ‘Since I’m in the neighborhood’ scenario?”

“In my sixteen-year-old fantasy world? We made out like crazy. I think I let you touch my boobs.”

I groaned. “Goddamn you had a nice rack. I tried so fucking hard not to stare at it.” I brought our joined hands to my mouth and kissed her knuckles. “You still have an outstanding rack, baby.”

“And now you can touch it any time you want.”

Silence settled between us again.

When I didn’t speak, Sierra prompted me. “So you had your own bed at your dad’s. After that?”

“In the army I had a cot. Or occasionally a bunk bed. Never had to share. Actually, we weren’t allowed to share.”

“I’ll just ask this straight up. You are fucking hot as hell, Boone West. You didn’t lack female attention when you were in high school and I doubt a healthy, sexy, young, buff, gorgeous soldier chose celibacy.”

“I chose hookups. Which I told you. Always at her place so I could leave after. Yeah, I was that fucking douchebag ‘one and done’ guy.”

“There’s no judgment, so don’t get testy.”

I blew out a breath. “Sorry. It’s just hard to admit, to you of all people, that I’ve never done the whole cuddle, snuggle thing except while waiting for my dick to get hard. I fucked, then I went back to my place. Alone. Every time.”

“Hence the ‘no shampoo bottles in the shower’ reality,” she said.