Dream Chaser (Dream Team, #2)(89)

With my target exposed, I slapped his chest and snapped, “I thought it was big, but I didn’t know it meant I was the one.”

He sat up with me and caught me at the back of the neck.

He also looked like he might be fighting laughing.

“I see you’re down with that,” he said.

“Uh…yeah, Boone. I just asked you to be my official boyfriend.”

“And I already thought I was.”

“Whatever,” I mumbled.

“Baby, this is good.”

It wasn’t good.

It was soooooo good.

I didn’t say that because he already knew that.

Boone got serious again.

“Just…you’re aware now, yeah?” he asked. “If it gets too much, we’ll talk. Figure it out.”

“Boone, if life doesn’t get in the way, I probably masturbate once a day. If I’m in a zone and I’ve got a good book or comic that’s turning me on or my imagination runs wild, I could have a session all by myself, maybe come two, three, more times over a few hours. I think I can keep up.”

He was staring at me.

“So you can just chill,” I told him. “But for your peace of mind, if, in the unlikely event I can’t hack it, we’ll sit down and chat.”

I got that out before I had a big, blond, beautiful naked man flat out on top of me.

“You masturbate for hours?” he asked.

I rolled my eyes to scan the top of his bed, saying in exasperation, “God, dudes. They think they’ve cornered the market on sex drive.”

“Kathryn, eyes to me,” Boone ordered.

The name he used, as well as the tone, my eyes went to him.

“You’re not allowed to do that anymore,” he said.

“Wh-what?” I asked.

“Touch yourself. Unless I tell you to or let you.”

Oh man.

“Did you hear me?” he asked.

Oh, I heard him.

My pussy heard him too because it contracted.

“Yeah,” I confirmed verbally.

“Did you get me?” he pushed.

I nodded.

His stern Dom face relaxed and he whispered, “Okay, baby.”

I was kind of hoping after that, he’d take us there.

And he did, in a way.

He restructured our Sunday.

“Sex shop. Tomorrow. Make sure we got the tools you like here so you can perform for me.”

All righty then.

Yippee!

He liked the look on my face and told me that by kissing me.

We made out, touching and groping, but I could tell Boone wasn’t going to take us there, it was just about closeness.

Then he turned out the lights, grabbed the remote and turned on the fan, and we snuggled.

He was curled into my back, his body full-on relaxed into mine, so I knew he was close to sleep.

I was close to sleep too.

But just to round out our discussion, I mumbled, “You’re the one too, you know.”

He gave me a squeeze.

Then he said, “Thank fuck.”

And I fell asleep smiling.

*



“Babe.”

I shifted.

“Rynnie.”

I stretched.

I felt a hand grip my hip. “Wake up, sweetheart, and roll. Time for breakfast.”

I blinked, turned to my back, and looked up at Boone who was standing there, balancing one of those breakfast-in-bed trays with the legs on it in one of his hands.

Okay, this was totally next level.

“You have breakfast-in-bed trays?” I asked groggily.

“No, my neighbors do, and I borrowed one. Push up so I can set this down.”

I pushed up but did it asking, “How do you know your neighbors have breakfast-in-bed trays?”

“Because sometimes I train with Remy, and I went over to get him so we could take off, and Paul was still in bed with a breakfast tray.”

“Ah,” I murmured as he put the tray over my lap.

I stared at what was on it.

Then I looked back up to him. “How long have you been awake?”

“Awhile,” he pointed out the obvious, doing this climbing over my legs and settling in, propped up on his headboard at my side.

“You made eggs benedict for me while I was sleeping in the same room and went to your neighbors’ pad to get a breakfast-in-bed tray, all without waking me up?”

He took up what I was now seeing was one of two forks on the tray and answered, “No, I made eggs benedict for us.”

He then speared a strawberry that was part of a side dish of fruit salad that included strawberries, blackberries and kiwi. There were also pan-roasted potatoes, two mugs of coffee, and two little glasses of OJ.

“My God,” I whispered. “Maybe you are superhuman.”

Boone burst out laughing.

He then leaned in front of me, twisted, and kissed me hard.

He tasted of strawberries.

Um.

Yum.

“Welcome to Sunday brunch at the Sadler loft,” he said when he moved away.

“We’re doing this every Sunday,” I declared.

“I’m in,” he agreed as he righted himself and reached for a knife.

I looked down at the tray. There were two plates and a bowl. One plate with four eggs benedict, one with the potatoes and the bowl with the salad.