She grinned up at him, squeezing her arms against her breasts, giving him a fine show. “Like what you see?”
Damn. His cock jerked. “I’m starting to think you are far too sexy for your own good.”
She laughed, then gasped, arching her back, when he drove deep inside her again. Those emotional eyes that caught his attention the second he stared into them came to his again. They had power. Magic, even. He rocked his hips, sliding into her to unravel her.
And she unraveled.
But so did he.
Her hands threaded through his hair while her sensual moans brushed across his ear. He kept his mouth on her neck, pumped his hips harder, skin slapping against skin, driving into her the way he’d imagined. She wrapped her legs around his ass, and he pressed himself into the very depths of her, rising up to watch her. Her chin tilted back, her moans growing deeper, louder. And even then, he didn’t feel close enough.
And he wanted all of her. Until she had nothing left to give.
She lifted her head to kiss him, and it was the way she melted into him, giving him everything, that had him shifting even deeper. His cock pulsed with his pleasure, and he controlled nothing, euphoria overwhelming everything when he began to feel the early quivers of her inner muscles against his shaft. He pinched his eyes shut, pleasure sweeping through him like a high-grade fever.
With a final roar, he thrust forward, holding her to him as he emptied himself.
Sometime later, he vaguely felt her move against him and laugh. “I hope you’re not too tired tonight.”
“And why is that?”
She lifted her head and gave him a sexy, satisfied smile. “Because we are totally doing that again.”
He chuckled, then brought his mouth up to hers. “Promise?”
And her hot kiss said all he needed to know.
* * *
Late into the night, Boone startled awake, hearing soft rustling outside the room. He glanced next to him, finding Peyton not in the bed. The bedroom was pitch-black, except for the light spilling out from the hallway. He slid out of bed, and his feet dragged against the hardwood floor. Once he stepped into the hallway, he found his boxers on the ground. He slipped into them quickly and then followed the light into the small kitchen. There wasn’t much to her kitchen, but a white round table sat near a row of windows, a kitchen island with stools on the other side, and a row of freshly painted soft green cabinets with a sink set in the middle. Peyton stood at the sink wearing her cotton nightgown and rubber gloves, cleaning it. He rubbed his eyes, then asked, “What are you doing?”
She gasped, startled, holding her gloves up like she’d been caught red-handed.
He chuckled, unable to help it. “Do you normally clean your house in the middle of night?”
She watched him for a moment, a thousand things playing in her gaze, then she went back to cleaning. “Just when I’m thinking.”
He didn’t like the tightness in her expression or her voice. And yet, he understood now, knowing she was a widow. He’d been there, where the mind couldn’t stop working, so the body needed to move. But just because he understood her mind at the moment didn’t mean he liked seeing her this way.
Keeping a little distance for now to gauge where she was, he moved to the kitchen island and took a seat on the stool. “Are you all right?”
She scrubbed the sink with a sponge. “Don’t think I’m regretting having sex…because I’m totally not. Really, out of ten, it was all the way to twenty. So, please don’t think that I’m thinking you were bad in bed or something.”
“Believe me, that thought never crossed my mind.” He liked sex. He was good at it. “And somehow, you still haven’t answered me.”
She scrubbed the sink harder, her back to him, causing the hem of her nightgown to lift, showing the top of her thigh. “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about me,” she said quickly. “I’m not the kind of girl who sleeps with a bunch of men either.” He glanced up into her face when she looked over her shoulder at him. She drew in another deep breath, then added, “Sex is a very personal thing for me.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Peyton.”
She kept on talking, as if he weren’t even sitting there. “I’m just really focusing on me.”
He got off his stool, moved next to her. “Peyton.”
“Just one last thing.” She raised a finger, pressing it to his lips. “I also don’t want you thinking that I’m some booty call either. I might not want a relationship, but I’m no one’s plaything either. Got it?”
Yeah, he got it. And she was so damn sexy right now. She stood there, all messy and cute in her rubber gloves, and he grabbed her face, sealed his mouth over hers. She tensed for a millisecond before she softened and kissed him back. 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 forced himself to break the kiss. “Can I talk now?” he asked with a smile, hoping to ease her.