Chapter 10
BOONE
I've been standing near this bonfire for forty minutes pretending to give a shit about the party, which is apparently long enough for Tate to start fucking with me.
"You've looked at your phone eleven times in the last ten minutes," he says, appearing at my elbow with a cup of cider and a smirk.
"I haven't."
"Eleven. Deacon counted."
Deacon steps up on my other side and gives one slow nod.
I shove the phone into my jacket pocket. "I'm fine."
"You look like you're waiting on a jury verdict," Tate says.
"I'm watching the party."
"Bullshit. You haven't looked at a single thing out here."
He's right. CU's Halloween is huge, and I usually love it.
The entire historic campus is packed with people, string lights hang from every tree, and fog rolls thick across the grass.
Up on the east roof of the admin building, the gargoyles have painted themselves gray and frozen in place like stone statues, waiting for freshmen to walk past so they can lunge and make them scream.
Near the dining hall, a bunch of vampires are wearing cheap plastic fangs right over their actual fangs just to be assholes.
Some human guy in a terrible fake fur suit is getting cheered on by a table of actual wolves, and two girls in a two-person dragon costume keep stumbling into people because they can't coordinate their feet.
I don't give a damn about any of it tonight. Somewhere in this crowd, Maisie is either heading my way to tell me she wants this, or she isn't.
My wolf catches her scent before I see her.
The hair on the back of my neck stands up, and my chest pulls hard to the left toward the old quad. I turn, scanning through the lights and smoke from the fire pits, and there she is.
Auburn curls loose over her shoulders. Hands shoved into the pockets of her flannel.
And perched right on top of her head is a pair of fake, furry, dollar-store wolf ears on a plastic headband, tilted crooked.
I freeze.
"What is it?" Tate asks, turning around.
"She's wearing costume ears," I say.
Tate looks, spots Maisie, and immediately covers his mouth with both hands while his shoulders shake.
"Don't start," I warn.
Maisie catches my eye from twenty feet away. She sees my face, and her mouth kicks up into that sharp, confident grin that always hits me straight in the gut.
She doesn't slow down. I can't just stand there, so I meet her halfway.
We stop two feet apart in the grass, the bonfire crackling behind me.
"Nice ears, Pope," I say, my voice rougher than I intend.
"Bought them at the drugstore on Elm for four bucks," she says, tapping the plastic band. "Figured I should try to blend in with the local wildlife."
"You look ridiculous."
"I look festive." Her smile softens, the teasing melting into something steady and deliberate.
She takes one more step forward, closing the space between us until I can feel the heat radiating off her skin.
"I did the math, Boone. I ran the whole experiment.
With the bond, without the bond, with CU's integration history, without any of it. "
My pulse pounds so hard it hurts. "And?"
"And you're an idiot if you think I only like you because of magic." Her voice drops lower. "I'd choose you, Boone. I choose you."
The frantic, pacing animal inside my chest just... stops.
All that clawing panic, all that time holding my breath and trying not to push too hard—my wolf goes quiet for the first time in weeks. Not settled. Not completely. But relieved. She chose us.
I reach out, grab her by the waist, and haul her against my chest.
Her hands fly to my jacket as I bend down and capture her mouth.
It isn't a careful kiss. I've been careful for a month and a half, and right now I don't have a single drop of restraint left in me.
I part her lips with my tongue, tasting cider and sugar, pulling her flush against my body until she lets out a small, breathless noise and grips my shoulders.
Behind us, someone lets out a loud, obnoxious wolf whistle.
"Called it in week two!" Tate yells over the music. "The blueberry muffin never fucking lies!"
Deacon claps once, sharp and loud, and a couple of the offensive linemen start laughing and making noise.
I break the kiss just enough to flip Tate off over Maisie's shoulder without letting go of her waist. "Shut the fuck up, Tate."
Maisie laughs against my lips, her face flushed red, eyes dark and dilated under the festival lights. She tilts her head slightly toward the dark path leading away from the quad, toward my apartment building.
"Take me home, Kinkaid," she whispers.
"Done."
The second the front door clicks shut behind us, I push her gently against the wood and kiss her again.
Her bag hits the floor with a thud. Maisie reaches up, pulls the crooked plastic wolf ears off her head, and tosses them onto the entryway table before tangling both hands in my hair. She pulls me down hard, opening her mouth against mine, meeting my tongue with a heat that makes my head spin.
I pull back an inch, our chests heaving together in the dark hallway. My hands settle on her hips, my thumbs digging lightly into the curve of her waist through the flannel.
"Maisie," I rasp, checking her eyes. "Look at me."
"I'm looking."
"You sure about this? We don't have to rush anything."
She huffs out a breathless laugh, her pupils blown wide. "Boone, if you don't take your shirt off in the next five seconds, I'm going to rip it off you myself."
That's all the permission I need.
I yank my jacket off and throw it somewhere behind me, then pull my shirt over my head in one motion.
Maisie's gaze drops immediately to my chest and stomach.
Her hands come up, small and warm, pressing flat against the center of my chest before tracing the line of my ribs down to my waist. Her skin feels cool against my body heat—I run at 102 degrees, and right now I feel like I'm burning alive.
"Jesus," she mutters under her breath, her fingers flexing against my abs. "You're huge."
"You like it?" I ask, my voice dropping low and rough.
"Shut up," she whispers, biting her lip as she looks back up at me, breathless and flushed. "Show me."
I grab the hem of her flannel and undo the buttons fast, sliding it off her shoulders, followed by her shirt. When she reaches behind her back to unclip her bra, I catch her wrists.
"Let me," I tell her.
I unhook the clasp and drop the lace to the floor.
She's gorgeous. Soft curves, pale skin flushed pink with heat, her chest rising and falling fast. My wolf is pacing behind my ribs, starving, clawing to get at every inch of her.
"You have no idea what you do to me," I growl, sliding my hands up her ribcage to cup her breasts, thumbing her hard nipples until she arches into my touch with a sharp gasp.
"Six fucking weeks of sitting across from you at that library table, watching you chew on your pen cap, pretending I wasn't losing my goddamn mind thinking about this. "
"Already?" she teases, breathless, rising on her toes to press her chest against mine. "You're slipping, Kinkaid."
"You're a brat," I mutter against her jaw, bending to scoop her up into my arms.
She squeaks in surprise, her legs wrapping instantly around my waist, arms locking around my neck.
I carry her three strides into my bedroom and drop her onto the mattress.
Before she can sit up, I'm over her, stripping off her boots and jeans in brutal, efficient pulls until she's lying there in just her underwear.
I push her knees apart and drop down between her thighs.
"Boone—"
"I've been thinking about this since mid-September," I tell her, sliding my fingers under the waistband of her panties and tugging them down her legs. "Don't move."
I lean in and press my mouth against the inside of her thigh, right near her pussy. She shivers violently. I kiss higher, tasting her skin, dragging my tongue across her damp center until she lets out a ragged moan and grabs fistfuls of the bedsheets.
"Boone, please," she begs.
"Tell me what you want, Pope."
"You. Taste me, Boone, please—"
I don't wait. I part her with two fingers, my tongue flat against her clit.
Maisie screams softly, her hips jerking off the mattress.
I grip her thighs, holding her firmly in place against my mouth, licking her slick, sweet heat with long, firm strokes.
She's soaking wet, tasting like pure heaven, her body trembling with every swipe of my tongue.
I slide two fingers inside her, feeling how impossibly tight and hot she is, pumping into her in rhythm with my mouth.
"Fuck—Boone!" Her nails dig into my shoulders, her head thrown back against the pillows.
I speed up, circling her swollen clit with my tongue while my fingers curl inside her. She doesn't last two minutes. Her inner walls clamp down hard around my hand, pulsing violently as she comes, her whole body shaking as she cries out my name into the empty room.
I drink every drop of her release, kissing the inside of her thighs as her breathing slows to shuddering gasps.
I stand up, kicking off my pants and boxers.
Maisie props herself up on her elbows, her chest heaving, her hair a wild mess across the pillows. Her eyes drop to my cock, thick and heavy and aching with a fierce pulse. She swallows hard.
"Holy shit," she breathes.
"Scared?" I ask, settling my weight between her open thighs.
"Not of you," she whispers, reaching up for my shoulders, her eyes soft and full of wanting. "Come here, Boone."
I crawl over her, bracketing her body with my arms. The heat radiating off her pussy is intoxicating. I line my the head of my cock up with her pussy, pressing just enough to feel how tight she is.
I brace my hands on either side of her head. "Look at me, Maisie. Tell me you want this."
Her hands come up to cup my face, her thumbs brushing my cheekbones. "I want you inside me, Boone. Please."