Page 92 of Boomer
It hit Taylor somewhere soft and unguarded. She nodded once, throat thick. “Thanks, Anna.”
Anna backed away with a small smile and vanished into the hallway, the soft click of the door leaving silence behind her. Boomer swung his legs over the side of the bed, body bare and magnificent in the dim light. He gave her a crooked, weary grin, something that carved straight through her. “Well,” he rasped. “No rest for the wicked.”
She crossed to him, her hands cupping his face as he stood. “No,” she murmured, kissing him once, slow and fierce and lingering, before she pulled back. “But we’ll make up for it when we get back.”
He grinned against her mouth. “Darlin’, I like the way you think….” He reached for the belt on her robe. She looked down and could only thank Anna for the extra time. Boomer was fully erect, his cock thick and hard. As her robe fell away, he said, “Why don’t we take a shower together to save time?”
She laughed softly. “Yeah, right,” she whispered, already moving toward him, pressing her now naked body the full length of his muscular form. His erection nestled hot and persistent against her belly. “I think you have an ulterior motive.”
He looked innocently shocked. “Are you saying that something is coming up between us?”
“Yes, besides your morning wood, something beautiful.”
His expression shifted, softened into something raw and real. Her words didn’t just echo what they’d shared. They built on it. Layered it. Deepened the weight of everything still coming.
He broke away from her, and she watched as he walked away. She sighed…that man’s body, his tight, gorgeous ass, the heavy muscles of his back and shoulders. By the time she got over the view, the water was already running when she stepped into the bathroom, steam curling like silk over the tile, blurring the mirrors and softening the edges of everything except him.
Boomer stood beneath the spray, his hands braced against the wall, head bowed, water sluicing down the powerful lines of his back. The muscles across his shoulders flexed with every breath. The tension in his body wasn’t from fatigue. It was need, and she read it like a love letter.
She paused for half a second, just to take him in. To mark this.
The man who broke through steel with power and finesse, who read pressure lines like a second language, now stood here, his whole frame humming with the effort not to reach for her first.
Taylor stepped forward slowly, letting the robe fall behind her like a discarded question.
He didn’t turn. But he knew. “Get in here, Red,” he said softly, voice rough from sleep, low and wrecked in the way she already craved.
She stepped into the heat, into the space where he waited, and pressed herself against his back. Her arms slid around his waist, and she rested her cheek between his shoulder blades. His skin was hot and damp beneath her palms, the pulse in him steady and deep, like a drumbeat she knew by heart.
“I wasn’t done with you last night,” she whispered.
His head dropped forward with a quiet, ragged groan. One hand braced on the slick tile, the other tightening where it rested on her hip. “You say things like that,” he muttered, voice wrecked, “and I lose my fucking mind.”
She smiled, pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades, her lips lingering against the heat of his skin. “That’s why I say them.”
Boomer turned, slow and deliberate, like a man shifting the weight of something he didn’t want to end too fast. The water poured over his back and shoulders, dripping down the cut lines of his chest, his abs, his thighs.
His hands came up to her face, big and sure, but so gentle. He cradled her jaw like she was something precious, thumbs sweeping across her cheeks. The pads of his fingers were rough, warm, grounding.
His eyes found hers, green gone deep and dark and completely unguarded.
“You like teasing me, Red?” he asked, voice low and rough, but the question wasn’t playful.
It was hungry. Needy.
Taylor’s heart fluttered, that soft thrill of heat and something deeper cutting through her like breath after surfacing. She let her fingers trace the line of his ribs, the sharp dip of his waist.
“I like every freaking thing about you, Carter.”
His breath caught. Just enough for her to feel it where her hands rested against his chest.
He stared at her, eyes searching, vulnerable in the way that only a man who had never been told he wasenoughcould be. “Tell me again,” he rasped. “What you said last night.”
“Hmm,” she teased, feigning a thoughtful frown. “What could that be? I needed to clean my… Glock?”
His groan was part laugh, part growl, and all man. He gripped her hip and dug his fingers into her side in retaliation, making her squeal and twist against him.
“Now you’re just fucking with me.”
