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wrapped a fist around his balls.
    Not enough .
    This one time was not enough.

 
     
     
Chapter Five
     
     
    He hadn’t spoken more than two words in the past thirty minutes.
    Sloane knew, because she’d been counting each and every minute. She kept her eyes on the digital clock and could almost count down every minute by the beat of her heart.
    When he first pulled out, she’d felt bruised, almost painfully empty and unsure of what to do, how to act. Did she get dressed? Leave?
    He’d disappeared into the bathroom and she’d wondered maybe she should just get up and go.
    But even as she’d sat up to do that, he’d come back out, slid into the bed behind her and pulled her up against him.
    “You okay?”
    She’d nodded and he’d sighed, tucking her into the curve of his body. It felt…good. Almost perfect, actually and she hadn’t been able to pull away.
    But that had been thirty minutes ago and the silence was killing her.
    She licked her lips and told herself it was time to go.
    Taking a deep breath, she went to sit up.
    And his lips brushed over her shoulder.
    “You have the softest skin.”
    The words were soft, so soft they came like a caress in the darkness.
    She shivered as he gathered up her hair and pushed it over her shoulder, pressed a kiss to her spine, now bared. “And your hair…I wanted to wrap it around my hands and kiss you practically the moment I saw you.”
    “You…” Sloane blinked. “You what?”
    He laughed in the darkness. “You heard me.”
    He rolled her onto her belly and she didn’t think to resist. When he reached between her thighs, she caught her breath. “Are you sore?” he asked, pushing one finger inside her.
    She moved her hips back against him, barely able to focus on his question. Was she sore? Yes. Did it matter? Not to her.
    “If I say yes, are you going to stop?” she asked.
    “It depends on how sore you are,” he said. “And whether or not you want me to stop.”
    She jumped as she felt his lips brush over the curve of her butt. “Your legs are killing me. I want to feel you riding me, feel you wrapped around me again,” he said, the words murmured against her skin. “How sore are you?”
    “Not very sore,” she lied.
    He caught her hips and rearranged her, half on her side, half on her belly. Her hair fell around her veil and he caught it in his hand, brushed it away. Her mouth parted as he straddled one of her thighs and lay down against her. “Should I stop?” he said.
    “Please don’t.”
    Closing her eyes, she lay there, unmoving, as he reached around. She knew what he was doing when she heard the foil rip and she tried not to think about anything as he put the rubber on. But she couldn’t stop it—couldn’t stop herself from thinking about the movement of his hands, the muscled length of his thighs, and then… “Oh…” the moan tripped out of her as he pressed against her.
    “I’ll be slower this time.” He slid one hand up and cupped her breast as he pushed into her from behind, his thrusts slow, less deep…but still every bit as intimate and because she was still so sensitive, she felt stretched too tight and too full and she loved every long, lingering minute.
     
     
    Boone made himself take his time.
    He made himself bring her to a slow, easy climax despite the urge he had to pull her to her knees and drive into her, brand her, mark her. He’d never had that need with a woman. He had never known that when a night ended, he’d remember it for the rest of his life, but he knew this was a night that would haunt him.
    After she was moaning and all but sobbing against him, he wrapped his forearm around her waist and gave in, riding her harder, quicker—but it didn’t take much. With five quick thrusts, he was coming, semen jetting from him in hard, vicious spurts.
    Sweating and panting, he closed his eyes. An ugly curse rose in his throat and he locked it behind his teeth. It was just sex—one night of sex with a beautiful