Page 35 of The Cowboy's Best Friend

“What I’m really going to like,” Boone told her, intently, cutting her off before she could finish yet another sentence that was going to drive him up the wall with the injustice of it all, “is when you scream my name until you go hoarse.”

“…when I what?”

She looked dazed, but he could feel the way her whole body heated up with that, and he smiled.

“You’ll see,” he promised.

And then he showed her.

Boone shifted her so she was pressed up hard against the hardest part of him, then watched her as she got hot and started moving, rocking herself against him as if she couldn’t help herself. And when she did, he could see her nipples begin to poke against her shirt. He slid one hand to the small of her back to encourage her to keep moving, to keep rocking herself against him. With the other, he guided her closer to him, so he could get his mouth on her while she did it.

He found those nipples through her shirt and her bra, and he sucked on them. He used teeth a little. He got his hand on one and his mouth on the other, until she started making little catchy noises in the back of her throat.

She sounded guttural and greedy and astonished—the best sound he’d ever heard—s so Boone kept going.

On and on until she was arching her back and making noises he’d only daydreamed about hearing from her. She got closer and closer, until suddenly, she stopped.

Her head shot up. She found his gaze and she was trembling all around him, her eyes wide.

“I feel…” She shook her head. “It’s almost like—”

“I know what it is,” he told her. Boone kissed her on her forehead, each cheekbone, her lips. “I got you, Sierra.”

And she trusted him. He could see how she trusted him.

Those wide, haunted eyes met his, and changed. They got greener as he felt her relax against him. And then, still holding his gaze, she began to move again.

This time, he built the fire up quicker, hotter. He put his mouth to the crook of her neck and got his hands on her hips, so he could move her against him a little bit harder. A little bit faster.

So he could make sure to find that perfect friction, and let her ride it out.

He finally felt her stiffen. She was suddenly strong tight like a bow, with all that electricity vibrating through her. Her head fell back. Her hands fell to the side in fists. Her mouth was open and she was making the wildest little noises.

Boone had never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

And he kept rocking her against him, until she broke.

She didn’t just break, she shattered. She shook, on and on, then she collapsed against him, and cried.

That didn’t scare him any. He held her. He cradled her against him and kissed her on her temple, and he didn’t ask her what was wrong.

If he had to guess, nothing was. He was pretty sure she just released… a whole lifetime.

He thought about picking her up and carrying her into his bedroom, but he thought that might be a little much. Tonight, anyway.

The last thing he wanted to do was spook her.

Or make her think she had some duty to perform for him.

Boone decided there and then, with Sierra curled up in his arms and his fingers stroking through her hair, that this was not the time to think about Matty any more.

She cried for a long time.

When she started to settle, he shifted her off his lap. He went down the hall to the bathroom and ran some water over a washcloth, nice and cool. Then he wrung it out and brought it to her, and when she stared at it as if she didn’t understand its purpose, he laid it over her eyes himself.

He watched the long, shuddering breath she took.

“I can’t imagine what you think of me,” she said.

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