Page 42 of The Cowboy's Best Friend

“Were we waiting for that?” she asked, with an outrage that wasn’t entirely feigned. “You could have told me that. Weeks ago.”

“No,” Boone said, very seriously. “I couldn’t.”

Then he settled there between her legs and he let her feel his weight against her, pressing against her breasts and pressing her whole body into the mattress, so perfect and hot that she could feel that shimmering, shivery heat move all over her.

“I love you,” he told her as he kissed her, again and again, and then everything seemed to… disappear into some kind of rolling inferno.

It was his mouth. And she knew it well by now, all over her body, but this was different. Because as he kissed her, as he lowered that mouth of his to her neck and she arched her back to give him more of her, she could feel him between her legs, too.

There’d been a lot of this, too. A lot of learning what it was like to hunger and shake as he played with her, moving himself between her legs until she was out of mind without ever actually thrusting inside her.

His hands moved down between them and his mouth moved to play with her breasts. One and then the other, as if the hard peaks were marvels to him. He traced patterns in that hot, soft part of her and then he began to use his fingers to thrust into her, one finger, then another.

And between the sharp tugging on her nipples and the heat that seemed to arrow straight down to where his fingers plunged inside of her, she felt herself shatter apart.

But this was Boone, so he wasn’t satisfied with one. He kept going, until she came again, and then again.

Only then did he reach towards the bedside table, where she had ostentatiously placed a box of condoms weeks agoif you think you’ll ever get there, and sheathed himself.

“Finally,” she managed to say, even as tremor after tremor shook through her.

Boone grinned at her, that gleam in his eyes and his face gone darkly sensual.

“You better hold on, baby,” he told her, like he was warning her. “This might be a little bit of a ride.”

Then he crawled back over her and settled into place between her legs once more. He pulled her knees up high on either side of him and she expected him to thrust in hard, but he didn’t.

Instead, he kept his eyes on hers as he slowly, so slowly, guided himself to her entrance. And then pressed inside.

And she was shattering all over again, because it was happening. Boone—her Boone—was finally inside of her. Inside of her andso bigthat she had to work to take him.

He was going slow, she realized, because he knew she needed the time to accommodate him.

And he was right.

He kept coming and coming, going deeper and inexorably deeper, filling her up until she felt as if there was no part of her that he wasn’t touching, that he wasn’t making his.

She thought maybe she broke apart then, too.

Sierra heard him mutter something under his breath as he paused there, his chest moving as if he was running hard, and his forehead against hers.

“You’re killing me,” he told her, in a low voice that barely sounded like his.

“Good,” she managed to say. “Then we can match.”

“Not just yet,” he said.

And then he began to move.

God, how hemoved.

Everything she thought she knew about him—not just from the whole of their lives before this, but over the past few weeks—disappeared.

Because this was pure magic.

He pulled all the way out and sunk back in and she had never felt sensation like this. Ever. It went far beyond the simple fact of what they were doing.

It was cosmic.

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