Page 37 of The Cowboy's Best Friend

“Oh my God,”she whispered.

“Yes or no, baby?” he prompted her.

Though he already knew the answer.

“Yes,” she whispered. “That has simply never occurred.”

“Then all I need from you is to tell me what it doesn’t feel good, okay?” He pressed a kiss to her inner thigh and bit back a smile as goosebumps shivered all over her thigh, telling him all kinds of things he doubted she could.

“Okay…”

But she said it as if she was doing him a great favor.

And really, she was, so he was happy to accept.

It was possibly the greatest favor of his life, he thought a moment later as he settled in, slid his hands under her body to finally grip that fine butt of hers—finally—and then, without even removing the lacy panties she wore, took her in his mouth.

And then everything went wild.

She bucked against him. She cried out his name.

He used suction and heat, and soon enough she was sobbing, writhing against him until she fell apart.

While she was handling that, he snuck those panties off of her, got her back into position, and licked his way into the softest part of her at last.

This time, he made it last even longer before he let her break. The moment she did, he built her back up again—and higher this time.

He experimented with her to see what she’d like. He made her jolt against him. He made her reach down and sink her fists in his hair. He made her moan and sob and best of all, come for him. Yet again.

And again.

Only when she went completely limp against him did he let up.

She was like a ragdoll sprawled out on his couch, her eyes closed, her skin flushed, and her chest moving with the effort of her breathing. And she was so beautiful that he was surprised it didn’t kill him.

He slid her panties back into place. He found the blanket that she always used when she came here and tucked it all around her, then stretched out on the couch himself so he could hold her close. And then had yet another exquisite pleasure in a night full of them, as Sierra finally fell asleep in his arms.

Boone stayed awake a lot longer, taking it all in, like he was afraid it couldn’t last. That like any other dream he’d had—and he’d had so many—it would disappear overnight and float away into the daylight.

So he kept a vigil through the night, just in case.

Chapter Nine

Sierra woke upin a muddled rush of heat and had no idea where she was.

The last thing she remembered—

But then the oddly hot and hard thing she was lying against in such a strangely tangled-up positionmoved, and she remembered everything.

Boone.

She pushed herself back in a rush and everything seemed to swirl around her, then settle into place at once. She was on Boone’s couch. She wasn’t wearing her pants. She could also remember exactlywhyshe wasn’t wearing them.

A new heat seemed to shoot all the way through her as she looked down at the heavy furnace that she understood was Boone himself, expecting to feel another kick of wild embarrassment. Or something worse.

Boone was lying on his back, his hands stacked beneath his head and those hazel eyes of his fixed on her.

“Morning,” he said, so calmly it almost sounded like a drawl. “Take a breath, Sierra.”

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