Page 14 of Tusks & Saddles
“Now, ain’t that the pot calling the kettle black.” He snorted. Boone stood at her feet, staring down at her. His attention shifted and she realized all too quickly they weren’t alone.
“Roger,” she swallowed hard, leaning her head back to see the Minotaur sat back by the fire, “Killer doing okay?”
“Yeah,” Roger shrugged.
“We ought to eat while we can and get some sleep.” Boone offered her a hand that she took, letting him drag her one more time off the ground. Only, she fell into his chest the second her boots scuffed the front of his. Her body tensed, her face buried in his shirt. She should have been disgusted. He was dirty, same as her, sweaty, gross from baking under the sun. And yet, she couldn’t help but inhale deeply. There was something like black pepper, wood smoke, and maybe a hint of amber about him. It was strange.
When did we become a ninny about a boy?
Boone took the hand he still held sweetly and brought it up to his lips. All she could see was his face, soft and tender, his glowing eyes engulfing her as he kissed her knuckles. Will swallowed hard, slipping from him and rushing back to the campfire.
“You good, Will?” Roger handed over a hunk of buttered bread.
“Yeah, fine.” She didn’t want to mention her stomach was full of angry wasps…or that her core buzzed with desperate need. It would be different if it were any other person. Willamina had her fair share of flings. One time offers and excursions, some more memorable than most. Always confident, always in control, always one and done…so why was Boone different?
Jacobus would forgive her if she just wanted to get a roll in the hay out of her system with Boone. But she knew if she kissed him…it was over. She could feel the threads of fate between them and if she let them tighten, there would be no going back.
So, she ate her dinner in silence. Then she cleaned up around the camp, took the feeder bags off her horse’s face, and set up her bedroll. Will focused on the tasks to keep her mind from pressing on that issue.But what really would be so bad about it?If she kept asking it…she might just say fuck it.
“You ready for bed?” Boone asked over her shoulder as she tucked two wooden logs in her boots, discouraging snakes or bugs from crawling in them. Her shoulders grew tense as she glanced at her bedroll.
“Ain’t getting ready for a dancing competition.” She raked her finger through her hair.What really is the big deal?
“Well, if you want me to twirl you around a few times,” he snickered, stopping beside her to take off his own boots.
“Sand’s no good for dancing, gets in between your toes and it’s a bitch and a half to get it back out when you’re this sweaty.” She smirked at him. His eyes flashed at her, and her stomach clenched.
They were dancing toward something. She could feel it and that gut rearranging fear that she would fuck it up. That she’d say the wrong thing, and he’d resent her forever. Or worse, he’d leave and Jacobus would blame her.That’s what’s the big deal…cause if he ends up hating me…if I ruin this, Jacobus will never forgive me.
“I’ll keep the dancing till we’re in the valley then,” he chuckled warmly, standing up straight with his boots off. Her lungs were wrung out like dehydrated husks as he pulled his outer shirt off his body and folded it up on top of their bags.
“No good,” she gulped down, her fingers working her heavy belt off her hips. “Grass is too tall, we’d end up tangled up in knots.”
“Mmm, fair point.” Boone pushed his heavy jeans off his legs, leaving him in only his underclothes and Will was doing her damnedest to keep her eyes on her own fabric. Roger was already tucked away in his roll, arms under his head, likely on the verge of sleep. The campfire was slowly dying, only a low orange glow dancing along their small, intimate circle. Soft moos floated around them as the cattle settled in for the night, the horses huffing softly as they got comfortable. Plus the icy wind that rushed across the sand, buffeting the back of her leggings. Boone spoke again, but it was so soft and raspy, she wasn’t sure he’d said it out loud.More likely I imagined it.“Where should I take you dancing then?”
Will glanced up from her stack of clothes. Boone peeled back the top portion of the bed roll and was looking to her for permission to crawl in. She stepped up beside him, her throat threatening to close. “The ranch kitchen.”
“The kitchen?” He chuckled, arms folded over his chest and hip cocked out in a playful challenge.
“Floors are great for spinning. Plus, no Sand Slithers or ankle trapping grass. We can pick the music. And, ain’t no fucking townies trying to cut in. Just…just us.”
Boone’s lips curled up high on his face. He bowed his head to her before crawling into the bedroll. Will sank into it swiftly after, pulling the top over them to close out the rest of the world. Soft purple and red runes lit up as the enchantments turned back on for the night. Her fingers trailed them absentmindedly as they faded. Stiff on her side, watching the sand dance around them as it was buffeted off by magic before it could touch her face.
Boone was just as stiff. Both of them. Two idiots staring at their respective sides of the camp, fighting the thing between them like a bull does a new fence between him and the heifer he wanted to breed.Bad analogy!All she could think of after that was Boone nestled between her thighs, growling in her ear about…well it didn’t matter whatexactlyhe said. She could give two shits if it was nonsense or he was reading her some Paladin chapter of his goddess’ doctrine. Just as long as he was doing it in her ear.
Why was I holding back?Why can’t I have him again?
“Will,” he sighed, throwing an arm down. He scooped it under her pillow and propped her head up on his bicep again like he had last night. Blood pumping hot, she asked herself again,what am I doing here?
“Yeah?” she whispered under her breath, shifting in the roll to face him. He was backlit in the dying campfire light, all his little hairs sticking up in the light breeze. Yet, her attention was on his mouth as he spoke again.
“What are we doin’ here? I don’t think either one of us is going to get much sleep unless wetalk—”
“I don’t wanna talk,” she confessed, her hands grabbing him by the front of his shirt.Fuck it.Willamina ripped him across the bedroll and smashed their lips together. The arm under her pillow immediately curled around her, cupping her back and pressing her to his chest. His other hand found her hip, tracing her leg down the seam of her leggings to her knee. Boone tugged her leg up and onto his. There was no space between their bodies but the half inch of fabric. His mouth just as hungry as hers as she kissed him with the intensity of a desperate woman ready to fight any god just for a chance to stay here. Right here, with him, safely nestled in his arms with the sound of the wind brushing across the sands and a dying campfire crackling nearby.
Chapter Eight
Boone
