Chapter 8: Down the Hall

The door opened a few inches, and Boone's shape filled the gap.

He did not come in.

"I'll go back up," he whispered. "Say the word."

"Which word?"

"Any word that means no."

I sat up in the dark with the blanket in my fists.

"Come in," I said. "And lock it."

The door closed with a tiny click, and the lock turned.

He stood at the foot of the bed in a grey t-shirt and sleep pants, and in the light from the window I could see how hard he was breathing.

"I told myself I'd lie up there and listen to the pipes," he said.

"How did that go?"

"Badly."

I pushed the covers back.

"Rule two," I said, very low. "Out loud. Touch me, Boone."

He crossed the room in two steps.

He put one knee on the mattress, and the old springs creaked, and we both froze and listened to the house.

Nothing.

"Quiet," he breathed. "Can you be quiet?"

"Can you?"

His mouth found mine.

It was slow this time, and deep, and he took his time.

His hands pushed the t-shirt up my body.

He broke the kiss to tug it over my head, and then he looked at me, in the dark, for so long that I flushed all over.

"You're beautiful," he said, rough and plain.

He lowered his head and took my breast in his mouth.

I arched, and a sound rose in my throat, and he came up and covered my mouth with his palm.

"Shh."

I bit at the heel of his hand.

He growled, very low, and went back to my breast, rolling the nipple with his tongue until my hips lifted off the bed.

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