Chapter 7 - Nicole
I stare at my reflection in the guest room mirror and hate what I see.
My clothes are rumpled from being balled up on the bathroom floor. My jeans have a stain on one knee. My tank top is wrinkled and stretched out. I look exactly like what I am, a girl who went to a shitty party, met an asshole, and spent the night hiding at someone else's house.
I miss his flannel. Miss the way it smelled like cedar and safety. Miss how it swallowed me whole, made me feel small and protected instead of exposed and vulnerable.
But I can't keep wearing Boone's clothes. Can't keep staying in his space. Can't keep pretending last night was anything more than him being a good man who helped someone in trouble.
Last night might have been my best chance. My only chance.
We were alone. We talked. We connected. There were moments. God, there were moments where I thought maybe he felt something too. The way he held my hand. The way he called me sweetheart. The way he looked at me in the kitchen like he was fighting something.
But now Colt's here, and whatever fragile possibility existed has shattered. Because Colt's my best friend. Boone's his brother. And there's no universe where that doesn't get complicated and messy and wrong.
I can't risk losing Colt's friendship. He's all I have left. The only person besides Boone who makes this town bearable. The only family I've got since my parents died.
And Boone... Boone would never do anything to hurt his brother. Would never cross that line. Would never choose me over Colt.
So, this is it. I'll go back out there, thank him again, leave, and spend the rest of my life wondering what might have happened if I'd been brave enough to tell him the truth.
That I've been in love with him for three years. That every man I've met has been measured against him and found wanting. That last night, lying in his guest room wearing his clothes, I wanted nothing more than to walk across that hallway and climb into his bed.
But I'm not brave. I'm a coward who bartends in a dying town and dreams about places she'll never see because she's too scared to take the leap.
I take a deep breath and open the door.
Boone and Colt are still in the kitchen, but their voices have dropped to low murmurs. I can't make out words, but the tone is serious. Intense.
I move down the hallway slowly, giving them time to finish whatever they're discussing. But when I reach the kitchen doorway, they both stop talking and turn to look at me.
Colt's expression is unreadable. Boone looks... nervous? Which makes no sense. Boone doesn't do nervous.
"Everything okay?" I ask.
Colt glances at his brother, then back at me. "Yeah. Everything's good. I should get going anyway. Got a lot to do today."
"I'll come with you," I offer immediately. "Need to get my car, figure out—"
"No," Colt interrupts.
I blink. "No?"
"Boone said he had something to show you." He's already moving toward the door. "You should stay."
"What? Colt, I don't—"
"Trust me." He pauses at the door, then grins. "Or don't. But stay anyway."
Then he's gone, the door closing behind him with a soft click.
I turn to Boone, confused. "What was that about? What do you need to show me?"
Boone's leaning against the kitchen counter, hands shoved in his pockets, looking more uncertain than I've ever seen him. "He, uh... he caught me off guard. I haven't prepared any of this."
"Prepared what?" My heart starts racing. "Boone, you're scaring me. What's going on?"
He starts pacing. Actually pacing. Moving back and forth across the kitchen like a caged animal.
"I never thought I'd be saying this," he mutters, more to himself than to me. "Never thought I'd have the chance. Or the right. You're so much younger, and you're Colt's best friend, and—"
"Boone." I step into his path, forcing him to stop. "Please stop pacing. You're really starting to worry me."
He stops, but his eyes won't quite meet mine. His jaw is clenched tight, muscles jumping beneath his stubble.
"Just say it," I whisper. "Whatever it is, just say it."
He takes a deep breath and finally looks at me.
Then his hands come up to grip my arms, and I'm frozen in place. He's towering over me, so close I can feel the heat radiating off his body. So close I can see individual whiskers in his beard catching the morning sunlight streaming through the windows.
"Colt noticed," he says. "The way I looked at you. He called me out on it."
My eyebrow arches. "What do you mean, the way you looked at me?"
His hands tighten on my arms. Not painfully, just..
. possessively. "I want you, Nicole. I've wanted you since you were nineteen.
Since that summer you came back to take care of your mom.
I thought I was hiding it. Thought I was doing the right thing by keeping my distance.
But I guess I wasn't hiding it as well as I thought. "
The world tilts. My heart stops, restarts, pounds so hard I'm sure he can hear it.
"You..." I can barely get the words out. "You want me?"
"So fucking badly I can't think straight." His voice drops lower, rougher. "I know you're younger. I know you're Colt's best friend. I know all the reasons this is complicated. But I can't pretend anymore. Can't keep watching you from a distance and wishing for things I thought I couldn't have."
I want to laugh. I want to cry. I want to grab him and never let go.
"I thought—" My voice cracks. "I thought you saw me as just some kid. Colt's annoying friend who used to steal cookies from your kitchen."
"Is that really what you thought?" He sounds almost pained.
"Jesus, Nicole. I've been trying so hard not to look at you.
Not to notice your curves or your smile or the way you bite your lip when you're thinking.
Not to imagine what it would feel like to kiss every inch of your body.
I thought you were completely oblivious.
Thought I was just some old cowboy you'd never look at twice. "
"You're not old," I breathe. "And I've been looking at you for years, Boone. Since I was nineteen. Since I saw you working with that horse, all sweaty and intense, and realized you weren't just Colt's brother anymore. You were... everything."
His pupils dilate. "Everything?"
"Everything I've ever wanted. Everything I thought I couldn't have." I reach up, touching his chest. His heart is racing under my palm.
He makes a sound low in his throat, half growl, half groan. "Don't. Don't tell me that unless you want me to do something about it."
"I want you to do something about it." The words come out bolder than I feel. "I'm done pretending. Done being scared. If you want me, Boone, then take me."
For a moment, he just stares at me. Then his hands slide from my arms down to my waist, pulling me against him. I feel it immediately, his cock, hard and thick, pressing against my stomach.
"Feel that?" His voice is pure gravel. "That's what you do to me. Last night was torture. Today's even worse. I can't control myself around you anymore."
"Did you..." I swallow hard, gathering courage. "Did you touch yourself last night? Thinking about me?"
"Yes." No hesitation. "In the shower. Came so hard. And it wasn't enough. It's never fucking enough when it comes to you."
"I did too," I confess. "In your shower. Used your soap. Smelled like you and couldn't stop thinking about your hands on me instead of my own."
Something snaps in his eyes. One second he's standing there, the next he's scooping me up like I weigh nothing, carrying me down the hallway to his bedroom.
He lays me on his bed—a massive king-size covered in dark blue sheets, and follows me down, bracketing me with his arms. The mattress dips under his weight.
"Tell me to stop," he says, voice strained. "Tell me this is a mistake and I'll stop right now. But if you don't say it, Nicole, I'm not stopping. I'm going to strip you naked and worship every inch of your body the way I've been dreaming about for three years."
"Don't stop." My hands find the hem of my tank top. "Please don't stop. I need you, Boone. Need to feel you. Need—"
He doesn't let me finish. His hands cover mine, helping me pull the tank top up and over my head. My breasts bounce free, still covered by my bra but straining against the cups.
"Fuck," he breathes, staring. "You're so beautiful. So fucking perfect."
He palms my breasts, squeezing gently, and I arch into his touch. His hands are huge, calloused from ranch work, rough against my soft skin. It's everything I imagined and more.
He reaches behind me, unhooks my bra, and tosses it aside. My breasts spill free, nipples already hard and aching.
"Perfect," he murmurs again, then lowers his head.
His mouth closes over my nipple and I cry out. He sucks hard, tongue swirling, teeth grazing just enough to send electricity straight to my core. His hand kneads my other breast, pinching and rolling the nipple between his fingers.
"Boone," I gasp, threading my fingers through his hair. "Oh God, Boone…"
He switches sides, giving my other breast the same attention while I writhe beneath him. My hips buck up, seeking friction, seeking him. He releases my nipple with a wet pop and kisses his way down my stomach.
"Need to taste you," he growls. "Been dreaming about this. About making you come on my tongue. Say yes, Nicole. Tell me I can."
"Yes," I whimper. "God yes, please—"
He unbuttons my jeans and drags them down my legs, taking his time, kissing every inch of skin he exposes. My thighs. My knees. My calves. When the jeans are gone, he spreads my legs wide and stares at my completely soaked through panties.
"Jesus Christ." He runs one finger along my slit through the fabric. "You're drenched."
"Your fault," I manage.
"Good." He hooks his fingers on the waistband. "I want you dripping for me. Want you so wet you can't think straight."
He pulls my panties off slowly. Then I'm completely bare before him, legs spread, pussy exposed and gleaming.
He kneels between my thighs, and the sight of him there… This massive, gorgeous man kneeling to worship me nearly makes me come right then.
"So pretty," he murmurs, running his thumbs along my inner thighs. "Pink and swollen and perfect. All for me."
Then he leans in and licks me from entrance to clit in one long, slow stroke. I scream. Actually scream. My back arches off the bed and my hands fly to his hair, gripping hard.
He does it again. And again. Licking me thoroughly, hungrily, like I'm the best thing he's ever tasted. His tongue circles my clit, flicks over it, then moves down to thrust inside me.
"Fuck," I sob. "Fuck, Boone, that feels—oh God—"
He grips my thighs, holding me open, and buries his face deeper. His beard scratches my skin. His tongue works magic I didn't know was possible. And then I feel it… One thick finger pushing inside me.
"So tight," he groans against my pussy. "Taking my finger so well, sweetheart. Think you can take another?"
"Yes," I beg. "Please, Boone, I need—"
He adds a second finger, stretching me, filling me. His fingers pump in and out while his tongue focuses on my clit, and I'm flying apart. Unraveling. Shattering.
"That's it," he encourages. "Come for me, Nicole. Let me feel you."
My orgasm hits like a tsunami. I scream his name, body convulsing, pussy clenching around his fingers as wave after wave of pleasure crashes through me. He doesn't stop. Keeps licking, keeps fingering, drawing out my orgasm until I'm a trembling, sobbing mess.
When I finally come down, he slowly withdraws his fingers and sits back on his heels. His beard is glistening with my arousal. He brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean, eyes locked on mine.
"Incredible," he says. "You taste fucking incredible, sweetheart. So sweet. But that's just the start."
I can barely move. My legs are still shaking. My entire body feels like liquid.
He smirks, clearly proud of himself. "Since you can't move, I guess I'll have to play alone."
"No," I protest weakly.
But he's already standing, unbuckling his belt. The metal clinks. The leather slides free. Then he's unzipping his jeans, and I watch with wide eyes as he pushes them down.
His cock strains against his briefs—thick and long and hard. He palms himself through the fabric.
"You want this?" he asks, voice pure sin.
I want to tell him I need it, crave it, have been dreaming about it for years. But my voice won't work.
"Then come here." He moves to the edge of the bed. "On your hands and knees, sweetheart. Come get what you want."
Oh fuck. Oh fuck.
I force my trembling legs to cooperate, getting on all fours. The position makes me feel exposed, vulnerable, desperately needy. I crawl toward him slowly, and his eyes darken with every inch I move.
When I reach him, he cups my face gently. "You're so fucking beautiful like this. On your knees for me. Looking at me like I'm everything you need."
"You are," I whisper. "Everything."
He groans and pushes down his briefs. His cock springs free, thick and long and absolutely perfect. The head is flushed dark, already leaking precum.
I open my mouth without being asked.
"Good girl," he breathes, threading his fingers through my hair. "Take what you want."
I lean forward and wrap my lips around him. He's big. Bigger than I expected and stretching my mouth. But I don't care. I want him. All of him.
I start bobbing my head, taking him deeper with each stroke. My tongue swirls around his head, tasting salt and musk. My hand comes up to cup his balls, rolling them gently.
"Fuck," he groans, hips jerking. "Nicole, your mouth—Jesus Christ—"
I take him deeper, relaxing my throat, and he hits the back of it. I gag slightly but don't pull back. Instead, I look up at him through my lashes. His eyes are wild. Feral. His jaw is clenched tight, muscles jumping. He looks like he's barely holding on.
"Can I—" His voice is strained. "Can I fuck your mouth? Please, sweetheart. Need to—"
I nod as much as I can with his cock in my mouth.
That's all the permission he needs. His hands tighten in my hair and he starts thrusting, setting a rhythm. Not rough, but firm. Controlled. Taking what he needs while making sure I can handle it.
And I can. God, I can.
I hollow my cheeks, sucking hard every time he pulls back. Flick my tongue over his head. Let him use my mouth however he wants.
This is real. This is happening. Boone Sullivan is fucking my mouth and groaning my name and looking at me like I'm the most precious thing he's ever seen.
This is a dream. The best dream. And I never want to wake up.