by Kate Kisset
Her hands flew to his belt and unfastened the buckle. She pulled his jeans and briefs down to his knees in one move, but not before he reached into his pocket and grabbed a condom.
“Christ, Becca, out here? You want it like this?”
“Questions. So many questions,” she said. With her feet still touching the pavement, she scooted farther into the back seat, reached around him and grinned, urging him down.
“My God, you really are heaven.” Boone ducked under the roof and lowered himself on top of her as she spread her legs. “I guess we’re not going to take your panties off this time?”
“No time,” she said, coming back to kiss him again. “Rip ’em off like you used to.”
“I like the way you think,” he whispered, sliding down from her mouth to her breast, where he sucked on her nipple before licking his way down past her abdomen. “I kind of like these,” he murmured, feeling her soft lacy panties against his lips, “but if you insist.”
Boone made a trail of kisses over the flimsy fabric to her left hip, taking hold of the barely-there panties’ tie with his teeth and soaking in Becca’s sensual, musky scent in the process. His cock was on the verge of exploding. The fine lace tie practically disintegrated in his mouth as he tore it off her hips and pulled the rest, leaving her bare.
“Becca,” he moaned, licking back to the heaven he’d just uncovered. “Oh, how I’ve missed this,” he said burying his tongue in her center and lapping slowly up her folds. Cupping her ass, he lifted her, bringing her up to his mouth to tongue-kiss her again and again in her favorite position, until her luscious body began to tremble.
“I’m going to come,” Becca panted. “I want you inside,” she begged, spreading her legs wider for him.
“No...” he purred, devouring her, “I’m not going anywhere.” And he wasn’t lying, Boone could die a happy man staying exactly where he was, where he was meant to be, glued to his soulmate.
“Please.” Becca bucked, tunneling her fingers into his hair, pulling so he had to change position. “I want us to come at the same time.”
And how could he not give her what she wanted? How could he ever not let Becca have her way? He’d waited so long to be with her like this again, the way they were made to be together. He was made to please her. Made to love her.
Reluctantly, he forced himself away from her deliciousness and heaved himself above her, brushing her golden, moonlit hair away from her face so it splayed against the back seat cushion. Eyes heavy-lidded, she kissed him with a tenderness and a passion he felt in his soul.
She helped him with the condom and adjusted her hips to meet him, guiding him into her. “Oh,” she cried, as he eased into her like a hand that just found its missing glove on a cold winter’s day. Slowly, achingly slowly, excruciatingly slowly, he held himself back, taking his time, filling her inch by inch so she’d know without a doubt who she belonged to.
Who she was made for.
He drove into her, and she wrapped her legs around him, clutching him, meeting his rhythm as if no time had ever come between them. And they were locked, sweat on sweat, bodies slapping against each other under the moonlight. Faster and faster they became one, launching into the stars on their own rocket ship.
“Don’t ever leave me again,” he groaned, feeling her body on fire, trembling, about to come apart.
“I won’t,” she cried out in ecstasy. “I won’t.”
“Becca,” he moaned, coming with her, blasting into the stratosphere. Shattering at his core. “Becca.”
Chapter Twelve
SUNSHINE STREAMED THROUGH the posy-covered curtains into Becca’s childhood bedroom. She rolled over on the lumpy twin mattress and covered her eyes with the cool sheet. Staring through the fabric into the already-bright bedroom, she startled, now fully awake.
Becca flung off the sheet and sat up, letting her eyes adjust to the light. The dampness between her rubbery legs, and the deep ache at her core, sent her spinning back in time. Her cells crackled and sparked, reliving the exquisite hours she spent with Boone—her Boone.
Who was as delicious as he used to be. And she hated to compare, but couldn’t help herself since she’d only slept with two men in her life.
She and Harrison had a decent sex life, but to be truly honest, she never quite “fit” with him the way she did with Boone.
It was if Boone was an extension of herself—someone who innately knew where, when, and how to touch her. Effortlessly setting her on fire and quenching her desires all at once. And she longed to touch him and hear him call out her name again.
Her heart fractured.
Why did she take the job? Why did Boone have to start his tour now? Why did the timing have to be so off when everything else was so right?
She adjusted the pillow and shifted to her side, smelling his fresh laundry and oranges scent still on her skin.
Did their lovemaking mean as much to Boone as it did to her? Or was everything he said last night only sexy talk, something she shouldn’t count on, words that should remain part of a moment of passion, never to be thought of again?
When she cried out last night, promising Boone she’d never leave him again, Becca meant it. If he could forgive her for leaving and love her again, she’d be willing to forget the awful months leading to their breakup.
Her heart and soul would never leave him, even if she had to live a million miles away.
And what about his feelings? Although he didn’t give her a chance to tell him she took the job in London, Boone was gearing up to leave too. He’d be on the road for a year.
Last night they left each other with kisses and a simple see-you-Monday, but they weren’t making a date. They both worked on Monday, so they’d see each other anyway.
And what about Harrison? Did she betray him in some way? Was there a moratorium on sleeping with someone else after a breakup, like a mourning period? Was making love with Boone a continuation of what they started years ago, or something new?
Becca got out from under the covers and slipped into the bathrobe she’d left at the foot of the bed.
Her mom was an early riser, but being up at six wasn’t the norm for Becca. She tightened the bathrobe sash and padded out of the room in search of coffee to find a wide-open entryway instead of the hall closet her mom always kept locked.
Becca paused, making the old floors creak, cautiously peeking inside. She gasped, checking out a small, pristine bedroom with stocked shelves packed with at least a month’s supply of everything from peanut butter to toilet paper.
Why had her mom kept this room hidden from her?
Becca walked in, taking in smells of fresh paint and cut lumber. A door on the far wall opened, and her mother entered from another room within the room.
“What are you doing up? You’re never awake before nine.”
“What is this?” Becca rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “Did you just come out of a bathroom?” She scooted past her mother to inspect, poking her head inside the room, checking out a small shower, toilet and sink. “What on earth?”
“It’s a panic room.”
Becca pivoted to her mom as a cold shiver cascaded up her spine. “Panic? Are you worried about someone? Is someone after you?” She ran a hand over her hair and rubbed the back of her neck. “I go to aunt Jane’s, and now you’ve got the mob after you? What the hell is going on?”
“Settle down.” Joanne pointed to a chair in the corner.
“Tell me,” she begged, feeling her stomach turn to a snarling knot.
“Sit, sit,” her mom demanded, pointing to the chair again.
Becca reluctantly took a seat and waited for her mother to settle on the edge of the bed facing her. “Boone was just a little concerned about me being out here by myself. So he—”
“Boone? What does he have to do with anything?”
“Well, with your dad gone and you out in California, Boone thought I’d feel safer if I had a little room to run to if I was ever burglarized. Or
had an intruder, or if I was ever scared. I’m pretty secluded out here, you know.”
“Oh my God, Boone.” Becca eyed the smooth, light blue-painted walls, studying what looked like an alarm and a specialized phone with blinking red lights. A wave of guilt washed over her and she turned back to her mom. “I didn’t know you were scared.”
Her voice disappeared into the walls. “It’s so quiet in here.”
“Yeah, he soundproofed it. Last spring it rained so hard, I couldn’t get out of the driveway. The roads washed out again, and I was stuck here for days. It relieved me to know I had a fully stocked room to hide in if needed. Not that we’ve ever had an intruder.”
“So Boone ordered a room for you, helped you plan it out?”
“No, he built it.”
The information took a few seconds to swallow. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”
“Because it had nothing to do with you. Just because you didn’t want to see him again didn’t mean I couldn’t still be his friend. He lives right down the road. You know I’ve always loved Boone.”
“So you and Boone have been in touch the whole time I’ve been gone?”
“Not exactly, but he checks in with me every now and then, and of course he was here a lot during construction.”
Staring in wonder, Becca examined the space again. “I can’t believe he did this for you,” she whimpered, hiding her face with her hands. “Oh God. I’m moving and he’s leaving, Mom.”
“I’m so sorry, honey. But please don’t make a big deal about the room, okay? That was our agreement. He didn’t want you to think he was trying to get back together with you. Boone built this room for my peace of mind alone, and for no other reason.”
“Why didn’t I think of this? Mom, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were scared out here.”
“Don’t be sorry.” She draped a consoling arm around Becca’s shoulders. “I’m not usually a scaredy-cat, but we do have fifteen acres, and sometimes, with the wind howling at night, I get uneasy.”
“I can imagine,” Becca whispered.
“And I enjoyed Boone’s company while he built it. I made that man a lot of pies, I’ll tell you. I’ve never met anyone who could put them away the way Boone does.”
Chapter Thirteen
“IT’S SIXTY-EIGHT DEGREES in Lonesome, a perfect night to head out and see Country Gold award nominee Boone Beckett at The Owl. I think he’s going to win it, so it’s no surprise that his final performance there is sold out. If you don’t have your tickets yet, you’re out of luck, but I happen to have Boone Beckett right here, with the song that keeps climbing the charts, Someone Like Me, at your home for country KTRY.”
Becca turned the radio down and blew out a deep breath. She hadn’t expected to be so nervous about seeing him for the first time since having sex, but she was, and all the hullabaloo about his nomination wasn’t helping.
She pulled into The Owl’s narrow driveway, carefully navigating to the back lot, glancing on her way by at the open space she’d parked in, remembering the night they—
As if it had a mind of its own, her body broke into a warm sweat, remembering how Boone filled her, and how exceptionally perfect he felt inside. If she closed her eyes and concentrated, Becca could still taste his kisses—
After turning off the ignition, she touched up her makeup in the rearview mirror. There wasn’t much she could do about changing her uniform, but she’d taken extra time with her hair.
Becca took another deep breath, grabbed her purse, and headed in for work.
She had to let him know she took the job and was never engaged to Harrison. Not that it would change anything. Boone’s tour was set in stone, but he needed to know. And now, since the Country Gold award nomination and panic room revelation, she wanted to congratulate him and thank him.
Coming in through the back entrance, she stole a peek at Backstage One, noting the door was open but he wasn’t inside. Becca continued over the empty dance floor with her heart in her throat when she spotted Boone sitting at the bar with his back and delicious broad shoulders facing her.
She second-guessed herself, debating whether to approach him now. There was so much to discuss, maybe she should wait until after his show? Becca didn’t want to interrupt him if he was preparing for his performance.
Linda passed a glass to him over the bar and he shifted, reaching for the tumbler. Becca held her breath thinking he’d turn around, and noticed Nicole.
Damn.
How could she have forgotten Nicole? He wasn’t still dating her, was he?
She’d wait until after her shift to talk to him.
Chapter Fourteen
UNDER THE AMBER LIGHTS, Boone gripped the mic and cued Bobby, who kicked into “Someone Like Me” for the last time at The Owl. He let his eyes roam the bar again. Becca had to be somewhere in the shadows.
He’d checked the schedule on the sly earlier and confirmed she hadn’t called in sick, but she wasn’t in the bar or serving any of the tables on the perimeter.
She wasn’t on the dance floor or away from the crowd, or against the wall, watching, as some people were.
He brought the mic to his mouth and started singing the final song in the encore.
“Someone Like Me” wasn’t Becca’s song, but it was for her, just the same. Every song he sang was for her.
He smiled at the grins from the couples as they changed positions for slow dances, ignoring the suggestive stares a few women gave him over their partner’s shoulders.
Boone rotated, playing to the other side of the room just as Becca strolled out of the kitchen.
Holding a loaded tray, she glanced up at him. Boone tried to hold her stare, but Becca quickly turned away, keeping her back to the stage, not giving him so much as a second look.
Did she have regrets? Did she tell Harrison what they’d done, that she’d cheated on him? Did she feel guilty? Why wasn’t she wearing a ring? Was it too expensive or uncomfortable to wear at work, or did they break up?
He sang the final line of “Someone Like Me,” happy they’d made a switch at the last minute, deciding to end the show with a slow song.
The crowd was extra rowdy. Boone wasn’t sure if they were drinking more, dancing rougher, and yelling louder because of his Country Gold nomination or because it was his last night there. Whatever the reason, Boone gave the horde a grateful smile and bowed with the rest of his band.
After the thunderous applause died down, and he thanked Linda and the town for their support, he threw another wave. The lights dimmed, and he left the stage, taking the steps down to the dance floor two at a time.
“You were staring at her again.” Nicole was wearing skintight white jeans, a white top...and an unreadable expression.
Had she been standing at the foot of the stage the whole show? Boone hadn’t noticed her.
“You,” she laughed, pointing, “Are. A. Player.” She raised her voice, sloshing her wine out of its clear plastic cup while people around them turned to stare.
Although she’d been coming to his shows, and they were on a friendly basis, they hadn’t had an official date since the day he saw Harrison propose to Becca at Palate in Billick. After realizing how profoundly the thought of Becca marrying someone else affected him, Boone stopped asking Nicole out.
“Let’s talk,” he responded calmly, ushering her by the elbow to his dressing room. He put on a pleasant, nothing-to-see-here-folks smile on his face as the crowd parted for them, congratulating him with pats on the back as he passed.
After what seemed like an eternity, they reached the privacy of Backstage One. Boone rushed Nicole inside, closing the door behind him.
“What’s up?”
“Are you ever going to admit you’re still into her?” Nicole set her drink on the counter.
Boone knew from the pitch of her voice that Nicole had downed more than her usual two-drink max. She wasn’t slurring her words, but it probably wouldn’t take much to set her off. The last thi
ng he wanted was a scene.
“I see the way you look at Becca,” she smirked. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
Boone appraised her, considering how to handle the situation. Was she jealous? She didn’t have any right to be.
“Please, Boone.” Nicole leaned against the wall, teetering in her heels. “Relax. I’m just telling it like it is.” She wobbled. “Just trying to be a friend here.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m not jealous, if that’s what your worried about.”
“You’re not?” He sighed in relief. “Well, good.”
She pushed off the wall unsteadily, and grabbed her cup. “Nope. I only went out with you at first because my sister wanted us to date brothers.”
“Wait. What?”
Nicole brushed the hair off her shoulder and straightened. “You heard me.” She took a sip eyeing him over the cup. “Christy begged me to go out with you, and it was fun for a few weeks. You’re a great guy, but—”
“I’m just not the right person for you?”
She grinned, lifting her cup to him in a toast. “Exactly.”
“Thank you, Jesus.” The knots in his shoulders began to dissipate. He took off his hat and ran a hand over his hair.
At least he’d tried. After Colt talked him into going out on double dates, he truly did try to keep an open mind with Nicole. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.” He closed the distance between them and gave her a hug.
“Congrats on your nomination, by the way, I know how hard you worked for it.” She gave him a kiss on the cheek before breaking from their embrace.
“Thanks. Do you want me to drive you home?”
“No, Christy’s driving. I think she broke up with Colt, by the way.”
“Oh great. He’s going to be in a good mood.” He chuckled sarcastically.
“I don’t think Colt is the settling down type.” She laughed. “And neither is my sister.” Nicole carefully set her cup on the counter, but still managed to spill some of her wine. “Towel. I think I need a towel.”