“Poppy?”
“Won’t we get caught?” she whispered.
“Nah, Cam and them are gone, and his grandmother is in town babysitting their animals. There’s no one here. Just us and all that space on the boat.” His voice was coaxing, his smile full of the devil.
She hesitated. She was only sixteen and out after curfew with a boy who didn’t play by the rules. A boy who made her heart beat a mile a minute. A boy who kissed her and made those secret parts of her, the ones that had never been touched by another, pulse and ache with a need she didn’t fully understand.
He was a boy who’d gone all the way with a lot of girls—or so Poppy had heard—and she felt out of her depth. What if she didn’t know how to do it properly? What if all those novels she’d snuck from her mom’s bedroom didn’t have things right? Oh my God, she thought. What if he wants me to put my mouth on his—
“Come on, Poppy.” He angled his head and flashed a brilliant white smile, his hand still held out for her.
Heart fluttering a mile a minute, she took it, and Boone helped her into the boat. Then he grabbed a blanket from underneath the bench, and she snuggled up beside him as they gazed out at the moonlit water. It was quiet, with only the sound of waves and the odd voice echoing across the lake to hear.
They talked about stuff for a bit, about a TV show Boone was into, something with spaceships, and a book she’d just finished reading. All the while, his hands were on her, caressing her bare shoulder, fingers grazing her neck, his mouth dropping kisses where his hands had been. After a while, the talking stopped and her world shrank, leaving room only for the dark eyes of this beautiful boy and a hungry mouth that devastated hers.
Had anyone in the history of kissing been better at it than Boone Avery?
They’d been making out for two weeks now, and the night before, she’d let him touch her breasts. She let him see them. He wanted more tonight, she could feel it, and God help her, she did too. Poppy reached for the edge of her sundress and pulled it over her head in one quick movement, leaving her body bare to him, save for a pair of pale pink lacy panties.
“Holy shit, you’re beautiful,” Boone whispered feverishly, dipping his head to claim a nipple, his hands cupping her breasts as if they were offerings.
She groaned because the sensation was so intense and squirmed at the heavy, pulsing ache between her legs. Arching her back into him, she let Boone touch and kiss, and when he pulled away, breathing heavily, she looked up at him with swollen lips. She arched her hips and reached for her panties.
“Are you sure?” he asked roughly, sitting back on his haunches. Moonlight glistened across his skin, making him look like a god.
“Yes,” she whispered.
She watched as his hands covered hers, and he slowly pulled down the small bit of cotton separating them. Then he doffed his jean shorts and grabbed up a small foil packet. She stared at it for what seemed like hours but was only a few seconds. She was scared and excited, but there was no confusion. She wanted this. Him.
All the emotion that had burned inside Poppy for weeks now erupted in a wave of longing and…she blinked rapidly as her chest swelled along with her heart. There was no turning back, and why would she? She loved him. She was his, and he belonged to her. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, and something caught at the back of her throat, a lump so big, she didn’t think she could speak or move or…
“Poppy?”
She tried to calm her fast-beating heart, and after a few seconds, she spoke. “Boone, I…I want to. You have no idea how much,” she whispered and looked away. “I’ve just… I’ve never done it before.”
He gently cradled her face in his hands and then kissed her, a soul-crushing kiss that made her head spin. He murmured things, gentle words. Hot words. Words she couldn’t hear because of the roaring in her ears. He touched her between her legs. He stroked and made her crazy with need. When he entered her, she remembered thinking, Boone Avery is inside me. Part of his body is inside mine! How amazing is that? She’d dug her fingers into his back and watched his face as he began to move. It was a look she’d never forget. He was laid bare to her and she to him.
It was a feeling she’d never feel again. Not with anyone else. Though she didn’t know it at the time.
“There you are. It’s nearly time to eat.”
Startled, Poppy squeaked and yanked her head around to find Boone watching her from a few feet away. She was breathing heavily from the memory of them together, of him inside her. Her nipples were hard, and holy cow but she was on fire with desire and need and loneliness and a whole bunch of things that made her throat tight and her mind muddled.
Embarrassed, she took a moment to calm her inconsiderate body.
She didn’t say anything because she couldn’t. She could not talk. It was as if her brain forgot how to tell her tongue what to do, so she just stared up at him in silence. He wore a pair of black board shorts and was shirtless. His hair was slicked back and wet, and drops of water glistened on a body made for all those things she was remembering. No man should look as good as him, but that didn’t stop her from drinking him in like a tall glass of water or wine, or hell, something stronger. Give her some damn whiskey. Jesus, it wasn’t fair.
“I feel like maybe we need a conversation,” he said after a few moments when it was obvious she wasn’t going to say anything. It was then she noticed two cans of beer in his hands, one of which he offered to her.
This was it. Crunch time. She either pulled up her big-girl pants and dealt with this very hot ghost from the past, one she’d never quite let go of, or she didn’t. And that would be very un-adultlike.
As it turned out, Boone didn’t give her much of a chance to decide either way. He took the last few steps and sat beside her, then leaned back once she accepted the cold brew. Poppy took a long sip and stared out across the lake. A boat zipped across the horizon, heading out to one of the smaller islands that dotted the body of water, and she kept her gaze focused on that—anything to keep from looking at the man beside her.
And Boone Avery was very much a man. No longer was he the eighteen-year-old from all those years ago. He was big and built, and he’d grown into those broad shoulders. How could she still want him so badly?
“What are you thinking about?” he asked, voice low and way too intimate for her fragile nerves.
Don’t do it.
She exhaled and stared straight ahead, as tense as a soldier at arms.
Boone leaned forward, cutting off her view of the lake and forcing her to look at him. Her heart ramped up, and her arms and legs felt like noodles. He reached for her, and the world fell away. When he removed her sunglasses, she froze, unable to breathe or think or do anything that a rational, well-adjusted adult would do.
She simply stared at up at him and hoped like hell his superpowers had faded and he couldn’t see into her soul.
“Your bruise is getting better,” he murmured.
“I’m thinking about that night at the Bookers’ cottage.” She blurted the words before she could stop herself. Holy hell, she’d just lost her mind. She slammed her eyes closed and wished with all her heart she could melt into the dock and disappear beneath the water.
She felt his warm breath on her cheek and held her breath when he spoke.