“Well,” she said, blinking twice and refocusing on him. “To be honest, my friends had become Adam’s friends over the years. It wasn’t something that happened fast or anything. It’s just all my close girlfriends moved away, or we just drifted apart somehow. When Adam got into real estate, our personal and business lives intermingled.”
“You don’t talk to any of these friends anymore?”
The rain lightened, no longer hammering the roof but shifting to a rhythmic beat, when she answered. “It’s a strange thing when someone dies. Everyone changes. Maybe they don’t mean to. But I think it’s more that they don’t know how to act or what to say.” She hesitated, then shrugged. “It’s not like one day I woke up and had no friends.”
“What happened, then?”
“Time happened,” she explained. “I think everyone felt weird inviting me out without Adam. His death was hard for all of us.” Her voice tightened, feeling things she didn’t want to feel. She finally looked at him again, tears in her eyes. “Is it okay if we don’t talk about this anymore?”
“Yeah, sweetheart, that’s all right,” he finally answered her, his eyes searching hers intently.
Something changed in his expression then, becoming harder, more determined. And in that single second, she became that girl in the bar again staring at a man, wanting things, needing things. Her heart rate spiked and she felt her lips part, welcoming him closer.
The side of his mouth curved at whatever he saw in her expression. He rose and then boldly leaned in and dragged his nose against her neck, making her acutely aware of how close he was, and how incredible he felt against her. It’d been so long since anyone touched her like this. Wanted her like this. “Besides,” he murmured, “if it’s all right with you, I’m more interested in doing something else
with your goddamn perfect mouth than talk.”
Her breath hitched. “Oh yeah, what’s that?”
“What you teased me with that first night, and what I haven’t been able to stop thinking about.” He brushed his mouth gently across hers. “A little of this.” She leaned up, offering herself while he slid his mouth across hers. “And a little of this.” He threaded his fingers into her hair, pulling her even closer. “Definitely a lot of this.” His sculpted mouth dropped to hers and time ceased to exist.
Actually, the world ceased to exist.
Boone’s kisses were not to touch or to feel, but to consume, and she lost herself in his passion. A sound inherently masculine rumbled from his chest as he tilted her head and deepened the kiss, devouring each of her moans.
When he leaned away, she realized she had fisted his shirt. “Boone,” she whispered.
“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he murmured against her mouth.
She pulled him closer. “I want you.”
* * *
Boone waited for Peyton to back away or to tell him to stop, but she did the exact opposite. She pulled him closer, kissed him harder. He took everything she offered, every bit of lust that she had to give, feeding the kiss with his passion until she was cradled against him, eager for more.
He’d shown up there tonight to make sure she was safe for his own peace of mind, as well as get some answers he needed for the investigation and to swiftly rule out her involvement. But the second she told him about her late husband, vulnerability seeping into every word she spoke, everything changed. Suddenly, her avoiding him this last month made sense, and with that awareness came an innate desire to protect her. From the sudden dangers in his town. And from her own pain.
He broke the kiss, staring into her hooded eyes, when another flicker of lightning lit up her face. Her beauty tightened his groin. He cupped her face, staring deeply at this woman who came out of nowhere making him want. The fire between them was what originally drew him in. That energy, intensity, whatever the name for it, only burned hotter now. “I need to know what all of this means. Do I have only tonight?”
“That depends,” she breathed.
“On?”
Lust-filled eyes with enlarged dark pupils stared back at him. “On what you want.”
“I want you screaming my name,” he told her bluntly, loving the way her eyes simmered with heat. No pissing around. He wanted her. “I’m guessing Kinsley told you about my divorce, and that you already know that I’m not looking for a relationship either, which is why you’re suddenly allowing this to happen.”
Peyton gave him a cute smile, leaning into his hand. “She might have told me a thing or two, but honestly, this is more about being reminded today that I only get one shot at life. We’re both adults. We both want each other and don’t want to fall in love. I say that makes it perfectly safe for us to stop fighting this crazy, hot thing between us.”
Boone didn’t care that Peyton knew about his failed marriage, because apparently, whatever Kinsley said had absolved Peyton’s concerns. That’s all Boone wanted. For her to stop avoiding him. Because, for reasons unknown to him, her avoidance had been driving him mad. He was tired of chasing after her. Exhausted by forcibly being pulled toward her. He needed to find out why this woman had such a draw.
He stroked the side of her cheek, felt her hitch her breath, and he reveled in how she pressed herself against him tight. “Then let’s set our rules.”
“Rules?” she asked.
“You decide how often”—he grinned—“and how hard.”
She laughed softly, pressing her sweet curves into him. “I like these rules already.”