Page 50 of Boomer
She kissed him deeply, hungrily, desperately, striving for mindless pleasure to chase away her doubts and uncertainties. Sliding her hand down his belly, she cupped his erection in her palm and stroked him through the soft cotton of his sweatpants. She felt him grow and harden from her touch and started to move over him to straddle his waist, needing him in ways she couldn’t define. Physical need was a given, but it was all the other emotional chaos swirling within her that made her feel as though her carefully guarded life was spinning out of her control.
He didn’t groan. Didn’t surge toward her. He just held still. Like he was holding the line not just for himself but for her, too.
He caught her around the waist before she could crawl on top of him and eased her back to his side. She made a small sound of frustration, and he deliberately slowed their kiss, soothing rather than arousing her with the slide of his lips against her soft, yielding mouth.
Then he grasped her wrist and rested her palm right over his rapidly beating heart and held it there. He ended the kiss and nuzzled her cheek, her hair. His shaft pressed against her hip, but it was obvious to her that he didn’t intend to do anything about that particular discomfort.
“Just let me hold you, Tay,” he whispered in her ear. “I’ll give you anything, you know that, but not that, not now.” He released a ragged breath. “I want you. That’s not in question. But I want you to want me, plain, simple, decisive. Not because you’re hurting. Not because you don’t know what else to do with all that pain.” His words were compressed and fierce. “Anyone can fuck, Taylor. But I’m not interested inanyone. I want you, and when I fuck you, I’m going to fuck you all the way.”
She looked at him, stunned. She had never heard that kind of ownership without control. It made her feel powerful, seen, respected. “Stay with me,” she whispered. “We have eight hours before the op, and I need you.”
She’d always believed being seen meant being used. That vulnerability would be exploited or met with silence. But Boomer didn’t take. He didn’t turn away. He just…stayed, and somehow, that terrified her more than anything.
This was what it meant to be loved for all of her. Not just the part she could control. Not just her competence. But the part she fought to hide. If he saw it all…if he held it…maybe she wouldn’t need to hide anymore.
She couldn’t ignore his tender offering. He wanted to hold her. When had anyone ever just held her, without the pretense of anything more? How did this incredible man know exactly what she ached for, right when she needed it the most? Tired of pretending that she could face the world alone, she sank against Boomer’s side, rested her cheek on his chest, and absorbed the comfort and affection he so selflessly offered her. She closed her eyes, and as he held her in his embrace, she let his strength take over.
Then she lifted her head. “Carter?”
He murmured, his breathing evening out, slipping into slumber, “Darlin?”
“Will you come to lunch with me on Saturday, if that fits into your schedule and you can get away?”
His arms tightened, and he made a soft sound in his throat. “Taylor…I’d be honored.”
She sank into him, gave him her body, her fears, her tears, and let the world float away for a little while. It would soon be time to face it once again. But this time, she would have him, Boomer’s quiet presence, to hold her.
The worldabove was a cathedral of stars. Silent. Empty. Cold.
Boomer pulled the mask over his face and adjusted the strap with practiced efficiency. Every movement had purpose. Check rebreather. Check gear seal. Check strap tension. No hesitation, but plenty of distractions.
Fuck, his mind wouldn’t play along.
He should’ve been focused, emotionally sterile, hardwired into the op. His headspace before a mission was normally silent. Locked. All systems green.
But this op was a goddamn echo chamber.
Taylor.
Her name pulsed under his skin like a second heartbeat. Not just her body, though he could still feel the shape of her against him, the heat of her pressed to his chest, her breath stuttering in his arms,buther soul. Raw. Open. Wrecked.
She’dgiventhat to him, and he took it, held it close to him. Still not sure he wasn’t going to fuck this up, but unable to retreat now.
She hadn’t run her mouth or begged or tried to control the narrative like some people did when they were scared. No. She folded into him. Gave him her grief, her guilt, her fear, and it had leveled him.
He’d slept beside her, and yet it felt more intimate than anything he’d ever done naked.
When she’d touched him, cupped him like a woman starved for solace, his whole body had gone tight and hard. He’d wanted to flip her, slide deep, make her feel good in every place that had been carved hollow by other people’s failures. But she hadn’t needed that. Not then. Not from him. Not like that.
He wanted real with her. Not just contact.
Connection.
Last night had been the closest he’d ever come to it.
His boots hit the dock with a dull thud, the weight of the dive pack pressing into his shoulders. Taylor was already there, crouched beside the water’s edge, going over the RFID tag’s casing with the kind of precision that made something twist in his chest.
Not because she was good at it.
