Page 127 of Found by the Pack
I set down the beer I’m holding, wipe my damp hands on my skirt, and step closer to him. His gaze follows me, steady and unblinking, as I take a breath that feels too big for my lungs.
“I need to tell you something,” I say.
He arches a brow but doesn’t interrupt.
“I scent matched with Shepard.” The words leave my mouth in a rush, tumbling out before I can stop them.
Boone’s brows knit together, confusion clouding his face.
I swallow, steadying myself. “You know how Omegas sometimes… click with someone? It’s rare, but when it happens, it’s like… your bodies recognize each other before your brains catch up. That’s what happened. In the basement.”
Understanding dawns slowly, his surprise almost boyish. “I didn’t even know that was a possibility. For you.”
“Neither did I.” My voice wavers. “But it happened. And Boone—” I force myself to hold his gaze. “I fucked him.”
The silence that follows is deafening. My pulse drums against my ribs, loud in my ears. I brace myself for anger, betrayal, something sharp.
But Boone just sets the wooden spoon down and turns fully toward me. His face is unreadable for a moment. Then he asks, voice low and steady, “Are you okay?”
The question blindsides me.
“Yes,” I breathe, nodding.
He studies me, eyes searching, like he’s testing the truth of my answer. Then he exhales, tension easing from his shoulders. “Okay.”
I blink at him. “You’re not… upset?”
His lips twitch into something that isn’t quite a smile but isn’t cold, either. “Sadie, I just want honesty. That’s it. If you give me that, I can live with the rest.”
The gravel in my chest loosens. My throat burns. I nod quickly. “You’ll always have honesty with me.”
He dips his head, brushing a kiss against my forehead, and the simple gesture makes my whole body ache.
“Good,” he murmurs.
I take another steadying breath and change the subject before I fall apart. “So… what are you cooking?”
He smirks, turning back to the stove, grabbing the spoon again. “Braised short ribs. Garlic mashed potatoes. Green beans with toasted almonds.”
My mouth falls open. “Seriously? That’s what you’re just casually cooking on a weeknight?”
“Why?” His eyes glint as he stirs. “Impressed?”
“Damn, Boone,” I say, shaking my head. “You really are talented.”
Something flickers in his eyes—bright, hot, hungry. I don’t miss the way his chest expands, the way his jaw tightens. It hits me all at once: he likes that. He likes me telling him he’s good, he’s capable, he’s more than enough.
“Oh my god,” I whisper, realization sliding through me. “You have a praise kink.”
His laugh is low, embarrassed, but there’s no denial in it. He just tilts his head at me, eyes gleaming with a heat that makes my thighs press together.
I step closer, sliding my arms around his waist, and press a kiss to his jaw. “Yes. You’re talented. You’re incredible. You’re?—”
His growl rumbles deep in his chest as he grabs me by the hips and yanks me against him, squeezing my ass hard enough to make me gasp.
“Careful,” he warns, his voice a scrape of desire.
“Why?” I tease, kissing down the edge of his jaw. “You like it.”
