Unbreak My Heart (Rough Riders Legacy #1)(76)

After I hung up, I sat on the folding chair, hunched over with my forearms on my knees. My head pounded like fifty people were yelling inside my skull in fifty different languages.

Welcome back to dyslexia dysfunction, Boone! We missed you.

Turn it off.

Shut it down.

Drown it out.

I dressed in my running clothes and sent Sierra a text:

Went 4 run

Phone attached to my waistband, earbuds in, I slipped out the front door.

The housing developments were a clusterf*ck so I pounded the pavement on the main thoroughfare. It’d be just my luck to get hopelessly lost tonight. With my music cranked I could barely hear the traffic.

So overriding the voices with louder noise worked.

Or maybe running myself ragged worked.

An hour and a half later I returned to the house. I’d erased all traces of Brooding Boone but I wasn’t in the mood to talk. Would Sierra understand that? Or would she push?

Inside the entryway I kicked off my shoes and set my phone and earbuds on the catchall table next to BBD—the big black dildo.

The scents of vanilla and chocolate drifted from the kitchen.

I stood there debating what to do next, when Sierra appeared.

She sauntered across the tile, stopping in front of me close enough our thighs almost touched. Wordlessly she slid her hands beneath my T-shirt and pressed an openmouthed kiss in the hollow below my ear.

I closed my eyes.

Her cool fingertips traced the ridges of my abs. Stroking. Slowly exploring. I wanted to let my head fall back and beg her to put her hands all over me like this. With no agenda. No race to get naked so we could start f*cking.

Whatever sound of pleasure I made pleased her because I felt her smile against my neck.

My arms hung by my sides like clubs. Needing something solid to hold onto, I latched onto her hips. Despite the temptation of her warm curves beneath my hands, I didn’t pull her closer.

She sighed over the damp spot she’d left on the curve where my neck met my shoulder. Goose bumps cascaded down my arms, my back and my chest and I shuddered.

So she did it again.

And again.

And again.

Sierra kept her face buried in the crook of my neck, breathing heavily, her fingers digging into my sides even as her thumbs lazily swept across the line of dark hair below my belly button.

As much as I wanted to ditch my shirt so no barriers existed between her stroking hands and my skin, I didn’t want to break the spell she was weaving around me, around us.

She inched her fingers up higher, stopping to caress the middle of my torso. First with the tips of her fingers, now warm from my skin, then she used her whole hand, flattening her palm and spreading out all ten fingers like a starfish. Finally she dragged the rougher skin of her knuckles across that same area, as if she needed to know all the different ways my flesh felt against hers.

While she touched me, her mouth sought the tender spots on my neck. Changing it up from a whisper-light brush of her lips, to a more aggressive suck, to a teasing lick.

I was utterly f*cking lost to her. To this arousing tenderness.

She traced each individual rib. Her questing hands reached my chest and she mapped every cut of muscle. She ruffled the hair on my chest. A reverent finger followed my collarbone back and forth. She touched my nipples but didn’t pinch or pull, she just kept up the same maddening stroking until they pulled into hard, tight points.

I wanted her wet mouth there. Sucking. Using her teeth. Flicking her tongue over the tips. Blowing a cool breath across the friction-warmed skin. I growled with hunger, the image of her dark head bent to my chest, just like that first night, when she played with my chest in fascination.

“Boone.”

“Uh.” She’d rendered me monosyllabic.

“Go to bed. I’ll lock up and be right there.”

“Hurry.” My breath drifted across her ear and she shivered.

Her hands slowly moved down my torso and from beneath my shirt.

My eyes were still closed when Sierra stepped away.

I could barely put one foot in front of the other as I stumbled in a daze down the hall to her—our—bedroom. I stripped in the darkness and crawled naked between the cool sheets.

She kept the lights off and closed the door behind her.

The bed barely jiggled when she crawled across it. She tapped my hip to get me to roll to my belly.

That’s when I expected she’d end the night by massaging my back until I relaxed enough to talk—that seemed a very Sierra-like move.

But she continued with the loving touches. The soft kisses. The tender caresses. I hadn’t been aware of all the places on my back that were pleasure triggers. The zigzag of her fingernails down my spine. The pattering of her fingertips on the nape of my neck. Random swirls and circle eights across my lower back. Love bites as she outlined my shoulder blades with her mouth.

The erotic way she touched me…my cock should’ve been painfully hard, aching for relief. I should’ve been grinding it against the mattress seeking additional friction.

But the other parts of my body—flesh and muscle and bone, long denied this type of thorough, reverent contact, told my dick to stand down.

My last coherent thought was that I should roll to my back, so I could wrap Sierra in my arms like I did every night before we fell asleep. But I was so blissed out I couldn’t even manage a one-word answer when she whispered, “I’m all f*cking in with you, Boone. Don’t forget that I’m here for whatever you need. Get some sleep.”