Chapter 20
Boone
Her lips are soft against mine, tentative, but they undo me. All the static that’s been buzzing in my head about Gabe’s quiet mood at dinner, Shepard’s sidelong looks, the questions that have been gnawing at me—they vanish the second she kisses me again.
It’s like every nerve in my body reorients toward her.
I wipe my damp hand on a dish towel and catch her waist, pulling her closer. She gasps softly, her fingers curling in my shirt like she’s not sure if she should hang on or push me away. That hesitation—that fragility—makes me hold her gentler, like she’s made of spun glass.
She leans back just enough to look up at me, eyes wide, breath shallow. “I… I don’t have a busy morning tomorrow,” she whispers, like it’s some kind of confession.
A slow heat crawls down my spine. “Is that so?” My voice comes out lower than I mean it to, roughened by the need coiling tighter in my gut.
She nods, biting her lip.
That tiny flicker of bravery makes me want to curse out loud. Instead, I bend, sliding one arm under her thighs, the other steadying her back, and I lift her. She makes the softest sound—half laugh, half sigh—as I carry her into the living room and ease us onto the sofa.
Her hands find my shoulders, trembling slightly, and I cover them with mine, grounding her. I press my forehead to hers.
“Sadie. If we do this… you set the pace. Always.”
Her lashes flutter as she whispers, “Please… be gentle with me.”
Those words hit me like a knife. Not because they scare me off—hell no—but because they show me exactly how much she’s been denied that. How much she’s endured without anyone giving her softness.
My chest burns with the urge to promise her everything.
“Of course, baby,” I murmur. My thumb strokes her cheek as if I can seal the vow right into her skin. “I wouldn’t dream of anything else.”
Her answering smile is shaky, but it’s there. She leans in, kissing me again—deeper this time. I taste her need, her fear, her courage. It’s intoxicating.
I ease her back against the sofa cushions, kissing down her throat, lingering at the hollow just above her collarbone. She arches, a soft sound escaping, and I take it slow—slower than I’ve ever gone in my damn life—because this isn’t about chasing my own hunger.
It’s about coaxing hers out, showing her it’s safe here.
Her shirt slips up under my hands, revealing pale skin streaked with faint scars.
My stomach knots, fury sparking hot, but I shove it down.
This isn’t the moment to dwell on the men who marked her.
She deserves to feel desired, not pitied.
I let my lips trail over her ribs instead, every kiss a reverence.
Her bra and panties shield most of the evidence, and I don’t press. I let her guide what she’s ready to bare.
When my hand slides down her thigh, she doesn’t flinch. Instead, she breathes out a shaky, “Yes.”
I settle between her knees, kissing the inside of her thigh until she’s trembling. “So beautiful,” I whisper against her skin. “You have no idea.”
Her hands knot in my hair as I tug her panties down slowly, giving her time to stop me. She doesn’t. When I lower my mouth to her, she gasps, hips jerking like she can’t help it.
The taste of her hits me—sweet, sharp, devastating. I groan, gripping her thighs to anchor her. An Alpha, undone by the slick heat of his Omega’s body—except she’s not mine, not yet, and maybe never will be. But right now, she’s letting me worship her, and I’ll burn before I take that lightly.
I trace her cunt with my tongue until her gasps melt into broken little whimpers. Every sound shreds me with hunger, but I keep my touch steady. I want her to know she can let go.
When she finally comes, it’s with a shudder that rattles through her whole body, her thighs tightening around my head. I hold her, murmuring against her skin, drinking her in like I’ve been starving for her all my life.
She collapses back against the cushions, chest heaving, a dazed look in her eyes. I kiss her inner thigh once more before sliding up to gather her in my arms.
Her fingers fumble at my shirt, tugging. “Your turn,” she whispers, voice still ragged.
“Baby, you don’t have to—”
“I want to,” she cuts me off, surprising herself as much as me. The determination in her gaze silences any protest.
She pushes my shirt up, baring my chest, and then she’s helping me shed the rest, her hands trembling as they map my skin. When she reaches for my belt, I catch her wrist.
“You’re sure?”
Her answer is a nod, firm.
The sound I make is somewhere between a growl and a plea. I strip quickly, unable to keep my hands off her for another second. Then I scoop her up, carrying her down the short hall to the bedroom. Her laughter—soft, breathless—wraps around me like music.
I lay her gently on the bed, crawling over her to kiss her again. She tastes like sweetness and defiance, like something reborn. My hands stroke her sides, thumbs brushing over the curve of her waist.
“You’re so fucking sexy,” I whisper against her lips.
She shakes her head, as if she can’t believe me. “Boone—”
“No,” I say firmly, kissing the protest right off her mouth. “Don’t argue. You are. You always have been.”
Her eyes shine as she blinks rapidly to push back her tears. She pulls me down again, kissing me harder, as if she’s daring herself to believe me.
And I let her. I’ll let her take whatever she needs from me, for as long as she’ll have me.
Her hand slides down my chest, twisting my nipples gently. I shudder as her nails graze my stomach. When she wraps the same hand around my cock, I forget myself.
I don’t even breathe for a second because the sight of Sadie—shy, careful, but determined—stroking me is like some kind of fever dream I never thought I’d get to live. Her fingers wrap around me, tentative at first, and I feel my whole body tighten.
“Sadie…” My voice comes out rough, a plea more than a warning.
She bites her lip, glancing up at me through her lashes. “I want to try something,” she says, hesitating. “I just… I don’t know if I’ll be any good at it.”
My chest aches at the insecurity in her tone. “You don’t have to be good at anything. You just have to be here, with me. That’s more than enough.”
She swallows, but her hand doesn’t move away. Instead, she leans closer, whispering almost like she’s confessing something shameful. “Scott… he always said I wasn’t. That I—”
I don’t let her finish. “Stop.” My fingers brush her cheek, tilting her face back to me. “Don’t bring him in here. He doesn’t get to live in this space with us. You hear me?”
Her throat works as she nods, eyes wet. “Okay.”
And then, with trembling bravery, she leans down and takes me into her mouth.
The sound that rips out of me is almost feral. Her lips are warm, soft, uncertain as they move along me. My hand finds her hair automatically, not to push or control but to anchor myself, to remind me this is real. She’s real.
She gags a little, pulling back with watery eyes. “You’re… big,” she whispers, wiping at her cheeks with the back of her hand. There’s embarrassment in her voice, but also something else—curiosity, wonder.
I grit my teeth, trying not to explode just from that. “Christ, Sadie, you’re killing me.” I flop back against the pillows, dragging a hand over my face. “I just… I need a second to breathe, okay?”
She laughs softly, nervous and sweet, and curls up beside me. I pull her into my arms, kissing her forehead.
“We don’t have to do anything else tonight,” I murmur against her skin. “I’m just happy you’re here. In my bed.”
Her fingers trace my chest, slow and thoughtful. “But I want this,” she says, voice small but steady. “I want you.”
I kiss her cheeks, her temple, down the line of her neck. Every wordless vow I can’t say out loud, I press into her skin. She tilts her head back, letting me, trusting me.
“Boone…” she whispers, and there’s something different in her tone—hesitant, like she’s bracing herself. “I should tell you—I’m on some medications. They make it a little harder. I’ll need more… more time before I can take you.”
I freeze for a second, then cradle her face in both hands. “Thank you for telling me. We’ll go as slow as you need. No rush. Ever.”
Her lips curve into the faintest smile, and she relaxes, like she was waiting for me to say exactly that.
“How about I eat you out again?”
“Yes!” She gasps.
So I take my time. I kiss down her body again, tasting her, coaxing her legs apart. Her thighs tremble around me as I slide my tongue over her, gentle but relentless.
She gasps, clutching the sheets, her voice breaking on my name. “Boone—oh god—”
I lap at her until she’s shaking, until her pleas turn into cries that crack with release. Watching her unravel is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
When she’s gasping, boneless beneath me, I reach for the lube I keep in the drawer, my hands shaking only a little as I slick my fingers.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to her thigh.
She nods quickly, hair spilling around her flushed face.
I slide one finger inside her. She tenses, then exhales. “Okay,” she murmurs.
I move carefully, adding another when she loosens around me. Her body clenches, adjusting, and I keep murmuring soft encouragements, kissing her belly, her hip, anything I can reach.
“You’re doing so good, baby. So perfect.”
By the time I slide three fingers inside, she’s panting, rocking against my hand, her body learning me, opening for me. My cock aches, but I ignore it, focused only on the way her face crumples with pleasure.
“Boone,” she gasps, nails digging into my shoulders. “Please—I need you—”
I can’t deny her. Not when she’s looking at me like that.
I shift over her, kissing her deeply, letting her taste herself on my tongue. My cock nudges against her entrance, slick and ready, and I force myself to pause.
“Last chance, Sadie. Are you sure?”
Her answer is a desperate, “Yes.” She pulls at me, urging me closer.