Chapter 21
Boone
After purposely avoiding the clock on my computer, I finally glance down at the little numbers and realize I’ve been hidden away in here for nearly three hours.
If I wasn’t intently aware of Harlyn’s presence every second not only because what I’m working on involves her, but also because I can’t seem to get her out of my head, then I might have forgotten she was even in the apartment.
I haven’t heard a peep from her since I closed the door to my office.
She’s probably hungry, I know I am, and there isn’t shit here to eat other than some canned soup or frozen pizza. I close the lid of my laptop and push back from the desk. My legs ache slightly when I stand, proving just how long I’ve had my ass planted in the chair.
When I open the door to my office and I’m met with silence, a pit of dread opens up in my stomach.
“Harlyn!” I speed walk down the hall to find the living room and kitchen empty.
The TV isn’t even on. I spin around to face the door, wondering if she could have left without me knowing, but that thought feels wrong.
She wouldn’t have left. I won’t accept that.
The entryway to my bedroom catches my eye, and rational thought finally returns. She must be in the bathroom.
“I need to chill the hell out,” I mutter while stepping into the hall, intent on making sure she’s okay. However, I find the bathroom door wide open and the interior dark. I spin to look in the last place I expected her to be, but also the only room left—my bedroom.
When her feet and legs, curled up on the end of my bed, come into view, the tension in my shoulders and neck eases, and the calm I was trying to force a few seconds ago comes easily.
Her beautiful face is relaxed in sleep, which is more than I can say about her features last night while resting on the couch.
I lean my shoulder against the doorframe, realizing just how much I like the idea of Harlyn sleeping in my bed.
As if she can feel eyes on her, she shifts, rocking her head deeper into the pillow and stretching out her legs as her back arches.
That move alters my thoughts. I don’t want to think of her as just sleeping in my bed.
I want to see her writhing in my bed, over me, under me, and beside me while I’m buried so deep inside her, she will feel me for hours after.
She shifts again, seeming to rouse more, and her eyes open. The slant of her brows and near immediate tension around her mouth make me want to hurt the man who has been torturing her. Her chin jerks down, and she startles when she sees me leering from the doorway.
Misplaced guilt tries to take root, but I push down the notion. I know I’m not doing anything wrong by checking on her, and the only reason she jumped when she saw me is because of the asshole stalking her.
“I didn’t mean to wake you.” My voice comes out low and deep, conveying my darkening thoughts.
Harlyn inhales sharply before sitting up and pushing her hair out of her face. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
I push off the door and slowly enter the room, giving her time to adjust to my presence, then I sit near the foot of the bed.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her I’m happy she could find comfort here, but it feels presumptuous.
“Sorry I took so long. I had to go over a few things with my team.”
Harlyn looks toward the window, trying to gauge the time.
“Are you hungry?”
“I could eat.” She returns her attention to me, finding me staring at her before she shyly drops her gaze to her lap.
I don’t think I could ever tire of her sweet duality.
One moment, she’s utterly confident, and the next, she’s almost bashful.
I only wish I knew what put the pink flush in her cheeks.
“What time is it?” She clears her throat.
“Nearly seven.”
Her eyes widen in surprise. “I slept half the day.”
“You needed it. What sounds good for dinner?”
“I don’t know, anything.” She shrugs.
“I say takeout, unless you’d like to test the limits of your gastro health, because all I have are some very questionable leftovers and a frozen pizza that I should have tossed months ago.”
“Takeout it is,” she agrees readily.
I lean to the side and extract my phone from my pocket, then I open the browser to food near me before handing it over to Harlyn. “Tell me if you see anything you like or if there’s something you have in mind that sounds good.”
She accepts my phone, cradling it between both hands. “Could I call Livy after?”
“Shit,” I curse. “Sorry, I forgot about that. Do you want to call her first?”
“No,” she replies easily. “We can order first. It’s already late. I’m sure you’re starving.”
“I am, thanks. If food didn’t take forever here, it wouldn’t be a big deal, but it does. At least we have lots of options though. I need to go to the bathroom. Take a peek at what’s around and tell me what looks good.”
“What’s your favorite?” she calls as I’m heading to the other side of the room.
“Depends on the day.” I enter the bathroom, but I leave the door slightly cracked so she can hear me better when I finish my answer.
“If we were going out, I’d say The Point or Gerrard’s Kitchen.
” I finish going to the bathroom and wash my hands, then continue.
“But for takeout, I usually stick to pizza, Chinese, or Mexican.”
“Pizza,” she mutters softly then looks down at my phone while scrolling.
I sit next to her, making sure our shoulders and hips touch.
Her breath catches in a way that makes me think of kissing her neck.
Before I get too distracted, I flick my finger over the screen until I find my favorite pizza place.
“This guy was on one of those cooking TV shows. I didn’t watch it, but he knows how to make a damn good pizza. ”
“Oh yum.” She taps the spinach and artichoke pie. “Have you ever had this?” Harlyn turns to look at me, and our faces are too close together to ignore. I can see the little freckles across her nose and cheeks, but more importantly, I notice the way her eyes dip down to my lips.
“You can’t look at me like that and expect me to remember anything, let alone about food.”
“Sorry,” she murmurs, but she doesn’t take her eyes off my mouth.
I lean in, closing the small distance between us, and just before my lips touch hers, I gripe, “I don’t think you are.”
She grins, confirming my words right before I kiss her.
My stomach dips when Boone’s tongue brushes over my bottom lip.
It isn’t just excitement making me feel like I’m on a carnival ride.
There is also a riot of nerves amplifying my reaction.
I’m acutely aware that we are in his bed, in his home, and what that means.
I never imagined I could feel this way again, and I do when I’m with Boone.
He makes me feel more than protected. He makes me feel seen in a way that has nothing to do with my sister.
I open my mouth to deepen the kiss, knowing a few stolen touches will not be enough.
Fingers trembling, I reach for him. The moment my palm makes contact with the soft material of his shirt over his chest, Boone freezes as if the touch surprised him.
For a single heartbeat, I wonder if I should slow down, but then he exhales and scoops me into his arms.
I get lost in his kisses. He’s sweet, almost tentative at first, like the day at the movie theater, but that only lasts until I nibble on his bottom lip.
He makes a deep rumbling sound that is so insanely masculine, my breath catches in response.
There is something so thrilling about knowing I’m the reason he made that sound.
I bite his lip again, a little harder this time, and I’m rewarded with a similar sound.
Something low in my stomach clenches. Selfishly, I know I will do many things to hear that noise again and again.
Boone’s tightening grip around my back is the only warning I get before he draws me across his lap.
The quick shift is nearly as dizzying as the confirmation that he really can haul me around.
With the kiss broken, I place my lips on the next best thing—his neck.
The scent of his cologne is faint, but no less effective.
He tilts his head back, allowing me full access to nuzzle and kiss his jaw, where I find the softest scruff I’ve ever had the pleasure of feeling against my skin.
It makes me curious about how much more rugged he would look and feel if it were grown out.
I give into the temptation to nip him, since he didn’t seem to mind the nibbles on his lips, before sucking and kissing him more, careful not to leave a mark where it could be seen. I feel the sexy sound leave his throat this time, and that is even more rewarding.
“Harlyn, sweetheart,” he chastises softly.
“Sorry, I’ll go lower.”
That elicits a full groan. “Not complaining, but also not what I was getting at.”
“What were you getting at?” I cling to his shoulders, rearranging myself to get better access.
He swallows roughly when I kiss the spot right beneath his ear while reaching for the hem of his shirt. “Mmm,” he hums, shifting to move with me to take off his shirt.
“Boone?” I murmur, reminding him there was something he wanted to say. By this point, I’m kneeling behind him and very much enjoying the view of his back. At some point, I’m going to take more time exploring each of his tattoos, but right now, I need to feel him more than see him.
He looks over his shoulder, watching me kiss the back of his neck. “No pressure,” he finally says. I know exactly what he means and have no doubt he means it, but I’m not interested in hearing them.
I place another lingering kiss on the muscle on his shoulder, then I give him my full attention. “I know. Do you want me to stop?”