Hang the fuck on.
“You, like, broke into her house and searched it?” My voice was rising higher.
“Yeah,” he repeated, like he hadn’t committed a felony, even if it was for the greater good, like getting Brett off the hook for a crime he did not commit and getting me safe.
“Okay then,” I said, though I didn’t mean either word.
Because, seriously…
What if he was caught?
“Did a search of her,” Boone carried on, still like he did not just admit to committing a crime. “And Crowley. And those close to them. Brothers. Sisters. Parents. Even friends. No one has a storage unit where they might be keeping something important. Ditto safe deposit boxes. And none of them, at least the ones who live in Denver, are keeping anything hidden in their houses.”
“You searched their houses too?”
“Well…yeah.”
“Like you personally?”
“I did her mom and brother. The mom with Mag again. The brother with Mo.”
I closed my mouth.
“Babe,” he said slowly, “we’re not cops.”
“Unh-hunh.”
He studied me before he stated, “Ryn, there are different players in this town like there are probably the same in every town.”
“Unh-hunh,” I repeated.
He tried and failed to hold back a grin before he launched into educating me.
“There are cops who have very specific rules and they take an oath to follow them. When they don’t, if they’re caught, that’s not a good thing and that manifests itself in a variety of ways.”
“Right,” I said, because I knew that.
“Then there are guys like the Nightingale crew, who are licensed investigators who have professional standards, but like any citizen, they need to operate within the letter of the law. It’s just that with Lee and his crew, they decide what standards they like and how they feel about any given law depending on how significant an obstacle it is to them getting where they want to go.”
“Right,” I said a whole lot more slowly.
“Then there’s Hawk’s crew. Us.”
I said nothing.
But I was on tenterhooks.
He watched me closely as he shared, “And for us, anything goes.”
“Anything?” I whispered.
He nodded, just once. “We got a job to do, we do it. We take the direct route to that. And we get it done.”
“How direct is this route, uh…usually?”
“As direct as it needs to be.”
“Oh boy,” I muttered.
“We also do shadow really good.”
“What?”
“No one knows what we do, Ryn, except the client who walks away satisfied, though maybe not with his bill. Because the skills we got, the crew and how it works together, we don’t come cheap.”
“So, you wading into this thing with Brett…” I let that trail.
“Nothing Hawk’s team has done has been visible to anybody,” he asserted. “They might know we’re interested, because I’m with you. They definitely know we’re keeping you protected, because we’re not hiding that. But other than that…”
He shrugged.
“So you’re safe, trying to sort this all out,” I surmised from his words.
Or more like…hoped.
“Babe, remember, they aren’t going after guys.”
“They’re going after Brett,” I reminded him.
“As a tool to use to solve a problem for them. Unless they wanted in on his action—”
Boone cut himself off abruptly.
When he looked over my head and his mind went a thousand miles away, it was on the tip of my tongue to call his attention back to me.
But I didn’t when it hit me he was working something out.
And I knew he worked it out when he bent, touched his mouth to mine, set his coffee mug aside (which, incidentally, was awesome, as was all of his stoneware, a matte dark gray with taupe trim, seriously, my maybe-official boyfriend had it going on), and muttered distractedly, “Gotta make a call, Rynnie.”
“Do what you do, baby,” I said softly.
He went and grabbed his phone.
I sipped and listened in.
“Hawk,” he said. “I think we missed something. Maybe Cisco wasn’t an easy target to use to cover up an assassination. Maybe he was two birds for their stone.”
I grinned into my mug.
So, we talked some of my shit out, and although it had kinda rocked me, and I sensed the beginning and end to the work of get myself past that crap didn’t happen on Boone’s counter, still…I felt better.
Then Boone got to talk a few things out, and they had a new angle.
I looked to the microwave.
It was barely nine.
So far, for the first time in a loooooong time, it was starting out a great day.
And seriously, I’d take it.
* * *
The bed moved as Boone got back in it after returning from the bathroom when he’d finished cleaning me.
We’d just made love. Missionary. Vanilla.
Amazing.
I liked this.
I’d never had a Dom/boyfriend before, and it didn’t occur to me, until right then, after having vanilla sex, but I didn’t think you could sustain a constant D/s scene sexually for the long term (nor, in considering it, after vanilla sex which was amazing, would I want to).
One, to do it, Boone’s creativity levels would have to be inexhaustible, and there were times I thought he might be superhuman, but he actually wasn’t. Two, it was a thrill that would be less of a thrill if it was all we did. And three, part of the thrill, I was now understanding, was not knowing when it would happen.
But even so, Boone was Boone and I was me so parts of that leaked in.
Like he commanded our lovemaking. I could touch him and do what I wanted, but the flow of it was all his.
And I liked that too.
Also, he ordered me to stay as I was before and while he cleaned me up, something I suspected was going to be a matter of course (he’d done that last night too). And before he went back to the bathroom, he again told me not to move.
Now, he’d slid in beside me, but I didn’t move from my position lying on my back even when Boone fitted his long, fabulous, naked body down my side and started running a hand lazily over my skin.
And I didn’t because Boone had fit his long, fabulous naked body down my side and started touching me.
We’d had a good day.
A full good day.
Start to finish.
After breakfast and his call to Hawk (about which he told me, “The team is on it, I’m with my girl for our Saturday” which was way sweet), we’d gone to the house. I’d showed him the progress and we’d wandered around, discussing my ideas and how they were evolving now that the demo was done.
We’d then gone for Mexican at El Tejado with my laptop that we grabbed from my house. There, we pored over the plans I’d created on some software I’d bought. We also went over the budget, which I’d drafted a year ago.
The plumber was going to be less. The electrician was an unknown since the quote I had was a year old. The subflooring was a hit to the budget, though I’d factored unknowns in by adding some financial wiggle room, but it sucked I was running up against something like that so soon.
I had an idea of what the flooring would cost now.
I needed to quote out cabinetry.
I also needed to spend some time locking down other things, like lighting, mirrors, sinks, toilets, tubs, etc.
The issue now was, with the subflooring purchased and being delivered on Tuesday, and the funds set aside for the plumber, more for the electrician (if they came in close to the old quote), after that, because I had a budget, but had not been adding to the account that was supposed to cover it like I’d thought I would due to Ang’s antics, I was very close to running out of money.
Until I could save u
p some more, outside putting in the subflooring, maybe skimming the walls (and I was looking forward to trying my hand at that), doing some painting, putting in some skirting boards and outfitting what I could at this juncture that I’d already bought, the project was going to come to a screeching halt.
I didn’t think about that then. It would make me mad at Angelica again, and myself for allowing her to con me.
I thought about how Boone and I decided to take the next day off from house and work and just do whatever we wanted for a lazy Sunday.
I also thought about how much I was looking forward to that.
And I thought about how Boone had notched it up for dinner, making me chicken gyros that were so good, they might have earned him my everlasting devotion (if that wasn’t already happening, which, in case you missed it, was).
Which brought me to now and the fact I’d allowed my mind to wander, but my body was very in the moment, and that moment included my body catching up with my mind to share how Boone was touching me.
Tender.
Sweet.
Even…
Reverential.
I focused on him, liked how cute he looked with his hair tousled, the meditative expression on his face, and whispered, “Boone.”
His eyes were watching his hand’s movements, but at my call, they came to me.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hey,” he replied.
“You’re very cute with messy hair,” I told him, and he grinned.
“You’re very hot with sex hair,” he told me, and I grinned.
“Well, you can take as rote that even when you’re cute, you’re hot,” I replied.
He kept grinning but did it leaning in to brush his lips against mine.
When he pulled back, I took a deep breath.
Then I said, “Maybe this is too soon, and if it is for you, I’ll preface this by saying, I’m down with that. I get it. A lot has happened, but we’re still new. But I also think it’s good for you to know where I am and have it out there that I’d also be down with you being my official boyfriend, and obviously as this goes hand in hand, me being your official girlfriend.”
His eyes narrowed slightly when he asked, “What?”
At his reaction, my heart skipped a beat with alarm, but I kept my voice level when I promised (maybe, at this juncture, lying a little bit, because I thought he actually was my official boyfriend and he was only going to confirm), “Totally down if that isn’t where you’re at, but just to say—”
“Ryn,” he cut me off, but said no more
Um…
Fortunately, he then said more.
“Babe, in your kitchen over a big cookie I committed to you. We’re exclusive.”
“I know that, but that was our first date. And exclusive could mean anything. Just seeing each other. Fuck buddies.”
“We’re not just seeing each other, and we absolutely are not just fuck buddies.”
This was not firm.
It was concrete.
And that meant he was my official boyfriend.
Excellent.
I smiled at him and said, “Awesome.”
For a second, he said nothing, not his mouth, not his face.
Then he said, “From your question, and just because you need to get it, this also needs to be out there.”
Okay.
Maybe not awesome.
“I need to get what?” I asked cautiously.
“I explained what me being your Dom and your man meant yesterday.”
“Yeah,” I confirmed.
“But you’ve never had a Dom who was your man, so just to say, you’re mine, but also, I’m yours. You with me?”
Oh, I was with him all right.
With him enough to turn and curl into his body.
“Yeah,” I said softly.
His face gentled.
And his tone was soft too, when he said, “But I’m also me.”
“You are that,” I agreed.
His lips quirked and his hand slid to my hip, his fingers curling in before he said, “Sex is important to me, Ryn.”
“It is to me too,” I pointed out what I thought was obvious.
“I know, baby, what I’m saying is…” He trailed off and then the gentle left his expression and I got concerned because he looked…not right.
“Boone,” I called, pressing a hand against his chest.
“Okay, I’ll get if you’re not down with this, and I’ve touched on it, but we’re here, and in truth, I’d like to avoid it, just see where we got to naturally, and tackle it only if it becomes an issue. But that isn’t right or fair for you. So I have to put it out there.”
Uh-oh.
I wasn’t liking this.
“Put what out there?” I prompted when he didn’t continue.
“I need it a lot, Ryn, and I also need a woman in my life that can keep up with me,” he said.
“You’re a guy, and that tends to be how guys are,” I told him. “But just to say, I’ve got a pretty strong libido too.”
He shook his head. “It’s not me being a guy. It’s my therapy. It’s not an addiction. It’s a choice. I like how I am, but more, I’ve found a way that works for me to keep shit at bay that is never really going to go away.”
Okay.
We’d hit the meat of the matter.
Before I could say anything, he went on.
“It’s important, with the situation with your brother, that you get that. It isn’t uncontrolled. I could shift. I could get into bodybuilding or something like that. But I don’t want to. I like how I am, and it works for me.”
“Okay,” I said.
“And straight up, it’s how I am. I didn’t get it until my early twenties, which is good, because when I got it, it helped me work through some things. But it started early for me. We had a teacher in high school. Mrs. Steiner. Chemistry. She was hot. All the guys talked about jacking off, thinking about her. But I never told the guys I jacked off thinking about fucking her tied down to a chemistry bench.”
Hmm.
Maybe time for me to find a teacher outfit.
“I think I’m like I am because I had to have so much control over the other parts of my life, I need to let it go during sex,” I shared.
“Maybe,” he replied. “And I hear that. Especially after watching how you deal, but I think we’re born this way, Rynnie. I think there are things that enhance it, or guide it, but it’s just who we are. It’s not an abnormality or a coping mechanism. Turning it into that kind of thing cheapens it or gives other people a reason to twist it into what they want to believe it is, weird, not right, when it’s not.”
I liked the way he thought of it.
“And I’m the kind of a guy,” he continued, “always have been, who needs to connect sexually with a woman, more even than most guys. It isn’t a hobby. It’s something that feeds me. Like others meditate. I fuck. For the shit that can start messing with my head, I have that, as well as other coping mechanisms. Talking with my brothers. Working out. But sex evens me out most of all because it’s a big part of who I am.”
He shifted so he was resting some of his weight on me and kept speaking.
“Back then, jacking off to Mrs. Steiner, thinking of how I wanted to do that, I thought I was a freak. That’s what people like us learn about our kink. And I thought there was something wrong with me that I could get off with a girl, but I got off more if I held her down. And my mind was always straying to other stuff I wanted to do. Totally did not work for me if I had an assertive woman, not in bed. It wasn’t until I let that shit go after I got out of the military, which, before that, I had some minor scenes with some partners, but it wasn’t anything real because I still had hang-ups about it. I felt trapped in a lot of things I was feeling with what I’d seen and done. And coming to terms with who I was, was freeing.”
“That totally makes sense,” I told him.
He smiled. “Yeah. And it wasn’t like the floodgates were opened, th
ough at that time, they kinda were.”
He smiled bigger, and I returned it.
He kept going.
“It was that I got what was a part of me. Like some guys need to play golf because they need to be in their head about the course and their game and the mental mojo that gives them. They can’t not do that. They can’t not play golf. And thinking on it, I’d put money on the fact there are a lot more people like you and me. But others don’t look on it like playing golf, which is acceptable. They look at it as wrong or deviant. Unacceptable. When it’s really pretty normal. So there’d be a lot of folks who are wound up, who would probably be a lot more smoothed out if they let themselves be who they are.”
“That makes sense too,” I said.
He nodded and continued, “In other words, I’m a guy who likes to have sex like guys like to have sex and I’m a guy who likes to have more sex like guys like to play golf.”
And there was more to love about Boone Sadler.
“Baby, I can keep up with you,” I assured him.
“Rynnie,” he slid a hand up to cup my jaw, “you can’t know that.”
“You’re right, but I’m not telling you what you want to hear, Boone. I really do like sex. And I seriously like it with you.”
He smiled again, this time with just his eyes (still, those green eyes sparkling, it was a great smile) and said, “Good to hear.”
Like he didn’t already know.
“But like you said, we’re new,” he carried on. “If it gets too much for you, it’s not about the fact I’m gonna stray. It’s the fact that we’re gonna have to talk about it.”
I was beginning to worry about what was behind all of this.
“Is there a woman in your past who couldn’t hack it?” I asked carefully.
“Baby,” he murmured, shifting his face closer. “Told you that you were the first woman who slept in my collar.”
“Okay,” I murmured back. “Maybe I didn’t get what that means.”
“The women before you, the ones who were just girlfriends, the ones who were subs, or the couple that were both, they weren’t the ones. I knew that. With the couple that were both, I put in some time to see if that would come. But eventually, I realized it wouldn’t, and I put an end to it.”
Right.
Having trouble breathing again.
“So what you’re saying is, you think I’m the one?”
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