Page 139 of Bittersweet & Strange

Now he’s here again, kneeling beside the basil, covered in dirt as usual, and hair falling across his forehead, talking to me about a tomato with an enthusiasm entirely disproportionate to its existence. I realize I would listen to him tell me about every damned leaf in this greenhouse if it meant he remained exactly where he is.

Boone catches me staring. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“That wasn’t a nothing look.”

I crouch beside him and catch his chin between my fingers, turning his face toward mine before he can start interrogating me.

“You’re happy.”

His smile softens. “I am.”

I kiss him before he can see what those words do to me. Boone laughs softly against my mouth, curling his dirt-covered hands around my arms.

“How about you get out of those clothes…” I kiss his throat, feeling his smile against my cheek when his arms slide around my neck. “…and let me remind you exactly how much I missed having you in my castle.”

Boone tips his head back enough to look at me, breathless, then lifts his arms without being asked so I can pull his shirt over his head. There’s no arguing, no smart remark that I swear he saves solely for me. When I toss the shirt aside, sweat already coats his chest, courtesy of the oppressive humidity trapped inside the greenhouse. I take him into my arms and lower him carefully to the ground. This time there’s no hesitation in him, no resistance or uncertainty when he goes willingly under me.

He’s already working his pants down his hips before I even have the chance to remove them myself, and the sight draws a laugh from me.

“Eager?”

“For you.”

I nudge his legs apart and settle between them, watching his hands immediately reach for me, unwilling to tolerate even the small amount of distance between us. He’s so eager now that sometimes I forget how frightened he once was of my touch.

I pull out the oil I’ve taken to carrying everywhere with me and coat my fingers as Boone watches, already widening his legs farther in invitation. I press one slick finger against his entrance, and the moment he moans and lifts his hips toward my hand, I ease it inside him to the knuckle.

“Oh … God. Yes.”

I smile at the breathless sound of his voice and lean over him, catching his mouth with mine. His arms immediately circle my neck.

“Fuck me,” he demands.

“My clothes are still on.”

His smile widens, and he reaches between us to free my cock himself. “Better?”

I drag my fingers over him again, watching his expression change. “Might be.”

Then I position myself and thrust forward, breaching that tight ring of muscle on the first try. He’s still loose from last night.

And this morning.

The thought makes me smile as I begin moving. Boone immediately buries his face against my neck, his arms tightening around me when a cry tears from his throat.

Both legs wrap around my waist, pulling me even deeper. His cries fill the greenhouse and grow louder when I begin jerking him.

“Let’s see you come,” I murmur against his ear, feeling his thighs begin to tremble around my waist.

“Rhys,” he gasps, arching toward me, his nails digging into my skin as he gets closer.

“Look at me,” I murmur. “I want to watch you fall apart.”

His eyes snap to mine.

“You listen beautifully,” I grunt.