Moments later, Boone pulled the Jeep to a stop at a campsite. And wow, what a campsite. The tent was made of canvas and sat on a large wooden platform with a front porch, including rockers. Hannah said, “Oh, wow.”
“Go check it out. We don’t have to stay if it doesn’t appeal.”
“Not appeal? I’d have to be crazy.” Hannah scrambled out of the Jeep and hurried toward the porch steps, passing two mountain bikes parked in a bike rack made of logs along the way. She ducked past the tent flap and gasped aloud. To the right sat an old-fashioned heating stove and to the left, a desk. Sitting in the center and dominating the space was a luxurious king-sized bed. “Okay, then,” she murmured.
In the far left corner sat a big, comfy-looking chair with a table and reading light next to it. The other corner held a bookcase. Hannah walked past the bed to peer behind another set of flaps and discovered an en suite bathroom. “Oh, wow,” she repeated.
The floor was tiled. The walls, metal. Two sinks. A commode. A separate shower, and a soaking bathtub big enough for two. What was the term he’d used? Rustic luxury.
It was fabulous.
She heard Boone enter the tent and she turned to greet him. He stood watching her across the ocean of the bed. His silver eyes burned with the kind of fire she hadn’t seen in a man’s look in, well, ever. His voice was gravelly with desire as he asked, “So, Hannah. Are the accommodations acceptable?”
Her pulse quickened. Heat flooded through her and pooled low in her belly. “They are.”
He prowled his way toward her, his gaze locked onto hers. An arm’s length away, he stopped and held his hand out to her. “In that case, Hollywood. Make love with me.”
“Yes.” She stepped into his arms. “Oh, yes.”
Cradling her face, he kissed her slowly, reverently, and with care. Taking his time, he pushed her to the very brink and she moaned against his lips.
“You taste so good,” he whispered, slipping his hands down to unbutton her shirt. “I want you.”
He slid his hands around to explore her bare skin, pulling her closer. He rested his forehead on her shoulder and inhaled a deep, bracing breath. “I don’t want to rush, but hell, Hannah. I can’t seem to help myself.”
“I can tell,” she replied, arching against his lower half and feeling just how much he wanted her. “And I want you too. I suggest we enjoy the rush.”
Her assurance was all he needed. Boone tumbled her onto the ocean of the bed and dove in after her. Together they sank beneath a wave of hunger and desire that was new and fierce and exultant.
When finally they surfaced and Hannah lay naked, panting, and replete with Boone’s large hand resting heavily on her belly, his thumb tracing lazy circles around her navel, an emotion stirred within her heart that she’d almost forgotten.
Hannah was happy.
Chapter Seventeen
Boone was exhausted.
He had an inviolable rule against falling asleep on a lover in the aftermath, but this was the first time he’d been with a woman since becoming a father. Turned out that midnight, two, four, and six AM feedings were a challenge to a man’s stamina.
But damn it, he wouldn’t fall asleep on Hannah.
With superhuman effort, he pried open his eyelids. Seeing her lying on her back beside him, smiling like a cream-drunk kitten, was worth the effort. “You rock my world, Hannah Dupree.”
“It got a little shaky for me too.”
Her soft laugh held a note he couldn’t quite place. It intrigued Boone and gave him enough energy to turn his head. “Just a little?”
A twinkle entered those gorgeous Liz Taylor violet eyes. “Fishing for compliments, Texas?”
“Maybe. I wouldn’t mind a little reassurance that I’m not imagining how great that sex was.” The truth of the statement surprised Boone. He wasn’t needy in the bedroom.
Maybe tents were different.
Hannah was definitely different.
I’m losing it. He cleared his throat and elaborated. “I’m running on fumes, and you scrambled my brains, so my judgment may be off.”
She stretched slowly and sinuously, no kitten here, but rather a sleek and powerful cat. “Your judgment is just fine.”
“Good.” His eyelids drifted closed. There was something else he should tell her, something that was vital she understood. “I didn’t plan this, you know.”
She snickered. “Yeah. Right. I have a bridge to sell you.”
“No, I mean it. I had no intention of falling on you like a ravening beast the moment we arrived.” Ravening beast? Where did that come from? “I promised you romance. I keep my word. I have a whole day of romance planned.”
“I’m sure you do.” Hannah rolled onto her side and up onto her elbow. “No worries, Boone. For one thing, the ravening beast thing worked for me, and it was most definitely romantic.”
“Good.” Boone relaxed. Sleep was a siren calling to him, and he valiantly fought the song. “That’s good to know. You’ll like the rest of what I have planned. I’m confident of that.”
“I’m excited.” She snuggled against him and lay her head atop his chest. He trailed his thumb up and down the valley of her spine. “Boone?”
“Mmm?”
“I don’t want to ruin any of your plans, but I’m feeling awfully lazy right at the moment. Do we have time for a little nap?”
A nap.
She wants to take a nap.
I have found the perfect woman.
“The schedule is flexible,” he murmured and drifted off.
Boone slept hard and woke to find the bed beside him empty. He sat up, dragged his hand down his face in an effort to scrape away the cobwebs, then shook his head like a sleepy old hound dog and took stock. His clothes lay strewn across floor and furnishings where he’d flung them in his haste to get naked with Hannah. His duffel now sat beside her quilted overnight bag on the bench at the foot of the bed. She’d brought in their things.
He wondered if she’d even napped or if that had been a goodwill gesture on her part. His exhaustion must have been obvious. He snorted with disgust. Some stud you are, McBride.
He rose, scooped up his clothing and duffel, then strode into the bathroom, where a damp towel and the scent of lemon shampoo informed him that she’d bathed. How the heck had he slept through that?
“Damned shame,” he muttered as he switched on the water. They could have practiced water conservation and shared. Of course, it probably would have killed him, but like they say—what a way to go.
A few minutes later, bathed and refreshed and feeling like a new man following his—Boone checked his watch and groaned—ninety-minute nap, he exchanged text messages with Angelica about Bree. He then exited the tent in search of his date. He found her down by the creek, where a wooden glider was perfectly positioned to watch the sunset while listening to the music of water babbling over the stone. Hannah stood lobbing pebbles into the white foam.
Boone’s heart went thunk-a-thunk at the sight of her now interposed with the memory of the way she’d risen above him on the bed, her cheeks flushed with passion, the rosy nipples on her full breasts hard and damp with moisture left by his mouth. She’d changed from her watermelon-colored top into one the color of a coconut-blue Popsicle.