Page 93 of Found by the Pack
Boone cracks one eye open, amusement dancing there. “Caught you.”
“I wasn’t—” I start, but he shifts, rolling toward me, pinning me gently back into the mattress before I can protest further. His weight is solid above me, comforting and commanding all at once.
“You absolutely were,” he says, smirking.
“I was… observing,” I counter, breathless already.
He dips down, his mouth brushing mine in a slow kiss that steals whatever smart retort I had next. My body arches towardhim instinctively, still keyed up from the dream I’ll never admit out loud.
Boone’s hand slides down, stroking over my hip, lingering at the curve of my thigh. He doesn’t rush, doesn’t take more than I give, but my pulse stutters at the promise in his touch.
He shifts his weight just enough to press his thigh between mine, and the friction makes me gasp.
“You’re already wet,” he murmurs, voice gravelled with sleep and want. “Good girl.”
I shiver, my body betraying how much I like the praise.
“Boone…”
He kisses me again, deeper this time, until my head spins. “Relax. I’ll make sure you’re ready for me.”
And he does. His hand slides lower, finding me slick and wanting. He teases first, rubbing slow circles until I’m writhing under him, my fingers clawing at his shoulders. He murmurs against my mouth, “So fucking perfect like this. Pink hair, messy bed, and you trembling for me.”
The compliment hits deeper than I expect, like he sees the parts of me I’m always afraid to show.
When he finally pushes into me, it’s with a careful slowness that makes my breath catch. He pins me to the mattress with his weight, braced on his forearms, watching my face as though documenting every twitch, every gasp.
“Yes?” he asks softly, his forehead pressed to mine.
“Yes,” I whisper. My nails dig into his back, desperate to keep him close.
He moves then, deep and steady, his mouth trailing kisses along my jaw, my throat. The dream flickers in the back of my mind—three men, three touches—but right now it’s only Boone, and that’s more than enough.
The rhythm builds until I’m clinging to him, my breath breaking in ragged moans, his name falling from my lips. Heholds me through it, his hand pressing mine into the sheets, his mouth capturing my cries in hungry kisses.
When he comes, it’s with a groan against my shoulder, his body shuddering above mine. He stays braced so he doesn’t crush me, but I wrap my arms around him anyway, pulling him down, wanting all of him.
For a long moment, the room is filled only with the sound of our breathing.
Boone rolls gently to the side, pulling me with him so I’m tucked against his chest. He kisses the top of my head, his lips lingering in my hair.
“I’ve gotta be up for work early,” he murmurs, voice hoarse. “But… thank you. For letting me stay the night.”
I nestle closer, my cheek pressed to his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart. “You don’t need to thank me.”
“Yeah, I do.” His hand strokes down my back. “Good luck with the mayor today. You’re gonna do great.”
I nod against him, my throat too tight to answer.
When he finally drifts back to sleep, I stay awake. My body is still heated, the aftershocks humming through me, but my mind spins elsewhere—back to the dream. Boone’s weight is still fresh on me, his tenderness, his focus, his care.
But behind it, the ghost of Gabe’s lips, Shepard’s hands, that impossible feeling of being wanted by all three.
I should be embarrassed. Ashamed, even for dreaming about other men when I’m in bed with Boone. That I was aroused by that dream.
But I’m not.
Instead, my pulse stirs again, traitorous and alive, and I let myself lie there in the quiet morning, turned on by the dream as much as the reality.
