He’d said he missed her.
She had spent nearly a year feeling like she’d lost some vital piece of herself. She was tired of it.
Nerves chattered in her as she brushed her mouth to his, once, then twice, then a third time. When she would have done it yet again, he caught her chin and swept his tongue across her lips in a bold demand for entrance.
She yielded to that demanded with avid hunger and shuddered as his tongue stroked deep into her mouth. His kiss was impatient—
greedy
—and it made her knees go weak. She ended up swaying and he caught her with one arm around her waist, steadying her.
Her legs started to tremble as their bodies came closer together. She felt the heavy length of his cock—a brand against her belly. His chest rose and fell in a ragged rhythm, echoing her own, erratic breathing.
And his mouth…
His kiss was hungry and deep, like he’d been starving for her and had just now been given free rein to indulge that hunger. He fed from her mouth while his free hand tangled in her hair and tugged her head back.
Sloane whimpered.
He swallowed the sound down and answered it with a rough growl.
She tightened her hands on his hips and instinctively arched against him.
The room spun as he turned them, bracing her back against the wall. She shivered as he brought his hands to her waist and then slowly dragged them up. The material of her nightgown rose with his palms, the brush of cotton over her flesh a near torturous sensation.
He broke away and pulled back, allowing a few inches between them.
“If you want me to stop, now’s the time to tell me,” he said, his voice raw.
She said nothing.
“Sloane?”
“I don’t want you stopping anything.”
He shuddered.
Some slow curl of delight, of amazement curled through her—she could make him feel that way. The hunger he rose in her, she seemed to cause to rise within him as well. It was a powerful, heady knowledge and it gave her the courage to trail her hands down and grip his hips, tug him in closer.
“Your breasts are larger,” he murmured.
She felt blood rush to her cheeks as she realized he was staring at her—specifically, at her breasts. She was wearing her nursing bra. It was one of the sleep bras and it was pretty enough, but still, it was designed for convenience and support and comfort, not sex appeal.
He reached up and flicked at the button at the top of her nightgown, watching her the entire time.
When he reached the last one, she closed her eyes and forced herself to speak. “I’m…um…I put weight on. From Dani.”
“You’re beautiful,” Boone said, his voice thick. “You were beautiful last year, but now…you take my breath away.”
She gasped as he ran the back of his knuckles of over the slope of her breast, undeterred by the cotton and lace of her bra.
“Are you…” He brushed one thumb over her nipple.
She caught his hand and guided it down as blood stained her cheeks red.
“Are you sore?” he asked, his voice hushed.
“Not anymore. I just…my milk…” She swallowed and looked away.
He caught her cheek in his hand and guided her face back to his. “The sight of you feeding Dani is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen…I thought that even before I knew she was mine. You stole my breath away.”
He kissed her then and it was soft and sweet and full of longing. It left her heart aching and she wrapped her arms around him, pressing as close as she could possibly get.
Boone caught her hips in his hands and boosted her up, aiding her attempts to close any and all distance between them. She whimpered and arched against him. The rough material of his jeans abraded her through the thin fabric of her nightgown and then there wasn’t even that barrier—just his denim-clad hips as he pumped against her.
Sloane was already wet, she could feel it, and the hunger was a living, breathing thing inside her.
She twisted against his hold, shoving until he put her down. He broke the kiss. “What…”
His words broke off in a strangled groan as she tore at his jeans until she managed to free the button, then the zipper. He sprung free into her hand, hot and thick and silken and she wrapped her fingers around him, stroked up, down.
He pumped into her hand when she repeated the caress.
Need made her bold and she said harshly, “I want you inside me.”
He growled and lifted her, braced her once more against the wall.
There was no more time to prepare and she gasped as he surged inside her. She was wet, but tight, and she could feel her own resistance to him.
He paused, muttering something too low for her to hear and then he shifted, gathering her up and changing the angle of her body. He moved again and she gasped as he stroked in deeper. By the third stroke, she’d relaxed enough to take all over him and by the fourth, she had her legs wrapped around him, trying to urge him on.
But Boone wouldn’t be hurried.
He took his time, deep, slow thrusts that had her arching against him, her nails sinking into his skin to leave little half-crescents. His teeth raked down her neck, a line of sensation that buzzed and left her aching even more.
“Please…” she gasped against his neck. She clenched down around him, tightening the muscles in her vagina in a desperate attempt to hold him inside her. He stiffened, a harsh noise leaving his throat. So she did it again, and again.
Boone tensed. “Stop it,” he muttered. “Want this to last…”
“I don’t care if it lasts.” She kept doing it, using her internal muscles to massage him and delighting in the way he started to shudder.
Abruptly, he spun and she gasped as he strode against the room, still buried inside her. Without the wall to help brace her weight, she felt like she was impaled on him, his cock so deep, it caused a sweet, sweet pain.
And then they were on the bed and he was thrusting deep, over and over.
She rose up to meet up, scrambling against those deep, driving thrusts.
The orgasm hit her hard.
Fast.
She cried out his name and flew apart.
Boone lay on his side with Sloane curled into the curve of his body.
She was sleeping.
He brushed a hand up her arm and she grumbled, snuggling deeper into the pillows.
He smiled.
He thought maybe he’d liked to roll her onto her back and kiss her into wakefulness so he could make love to her again.
A low, distant noise caught his ears.
Boone sat up, head cocked.
It came again and he rose, moving swiftly to the door.
It was the baby.
My daughter
, he thought.
He almost went back to wake up Sloane, but then ducked out of the room, silently closing the door behind him.
Another low cry drifted down the hall and he followed the sound to the nursery.
He didn’t bother with the light—plenty of moonlight shone in through the large window, highlighting the squalling infant who shook small fists in the air.
She caught sight of him and paused.
He scooped her up just as she opened her mouth for another angry yowl.
“Um…hey there,” he said, smiling.
She blinked.
He went to pat her bottom and then he grimaced. “Well, I guess I see why you’re mad. If you’ll be patient, I think I can figure this out.”
Almost as if she understood him, the baby lapsed into silence as he looked around the room.
Okay. That table. He knew what the table was for. And there were diapers stacked up underneath.
He stripped her out of her little sleeper and put it to the side. It was damp. He’d have to find something else.
Before he took the diaper off, he took a few seconds to study how it was worn and then he straightened, smiling down at his daughter. Just the thought filled him with a burst of pride so acute, it almost hurt. His
daughter
. “I think I can do this,” he told her.
She grinned at him and then gurgled, a happy little noise that made him chuckle.
It took a little bit of fumbling before he was satisfied with how he had the diaper on her, but he was pretty sure he’d done it right. Lifting her back up, he settled her against his chest.
“Sloane…whoa. Dude. Come on, my wife sees you like that, she’s going to get ideas.”
Boone scowled over his shoulder as Taylor came into the room.
“What?”
Taylor waved a hand at him. “Get some clothes on, would you?”
Boone froze, abruptly realizing that he’d slid out of bed in the exact same condition he’d been in when he’d curled around Sloane a couple of hours ago. They’d made love a second time and then a third before she’d fallen asleep.
And he was still naked as a damn jaybird.
“Um. Oops.” He started past Taylor. “Sorry. I…um…forgot.”
Taylor snorted. “Yeah, well, remember next time. Why don’t you give me the baby and I’ll take her to Sloane while you get some clothes on? Dani is probably hungry. I’m surprised…”
Boone paused near his door, shooting Taylor a look over his shoulder.
“Ah…”
Taylor’s eyes narrowed.
“Maybe you don’t need me to get Sloane.”
“Maybe I don’t.” Boone closed his hand around his doorknob and disappeared inside before Taylor could say anything else.
Dani made another one of those gurgling noises in her throat, her face bright with happiness. She waved her fists in the air, but there was no temper in the movement this time and when he touched her nose, she wrapped a fist around his finger and squeezed.
“Dani…”
Sloane’s sleepy voice had him tearing his attention away from the baby.
“She’s…um. She was crying. I changed her.”
Sloane sat up slowly, rubbing at one eye with a fist. There was something terribly young at the gesture, but then she lowered her hand and smiled, a sleepy, sated smile that all but turned his blood to lava.
Then she blinked, as if really taking notice of him. “You’re naked.”
“Ah…yeah.” He settled on the edge of the bed, blushing furiously and hoping she couldn’t tell. Unable to think of anything to say, he just shrugged lamely. “Yeah.”
Sloane giggled and held out her arms. “She’s probably hungry. She usually…ah, where’s her sleeper?”
“Wet.” Feeling stupid now, he turned the small baby over to her mother. “I changed her, but the sleeper thing was wet and then Taylor came in and I forgot about grabbing her a new one…”
Sloane grinned at him. “He caught us, didn’t he?”
“More or less.” Fascinated, he watched as she quickly and efficiently opened her nightgown. Dani made a demanding little bleat, as if sensing it was almost time to eat. A moment later, Sloane had her left breast bared and the baby latched on with avarice. “Ah…I’ll get some jeans on and grab her a sleeper. Give you some privacy.”
But when he went to stand, she caught his hand. “You can stay. Once she eats, I’ll have to put her back down—maybe change her again.”
Hesitating, he glanced from the baby’s downy head up to Sloane’s patient eyes.
She squeezed. “Stay.”
He nodded…and when she tried to pull her hand back, he tightened his fingers.
She shot him a quick look and then smiled.
As she felt the baby, they held hands and alternated between watching each other…and their daughter.
A half hour later, he awkwardly took the baby from her and watched as she adjusted her bra and nightgown. He rose from the bed—clad in a pair of jeans now—and settled the baby at his shoulder, patting her back.
Dani was asleep.
“Here. I’ll go settle her back down,” Sloane said, rising from the bed.
“Can…I can do it.”
She cocked her head and then nodded. “Come on. I’ll show you where everything is.”
Dani did indeed require another diaper change and he grimaced his way through cleaning her little butt as she squalled her way back into wakefulness. “Sorry, babydoll,” he said, shaking his head. “You went and…um…pooped. Can’t sleep in it, now can you?”
Dani just screamed louder.
“Am I hurting her?”
“No.” Sloane bent over the head of the changing table and kissed Dani’s brow. “She just hates being woken up.”
She fussed, letting them both know her displeasure, as he put a new diaper on—it was easier the second time. And she continued to fuss at him as he struggled with the sleeper. The thing was tiny and his hands were big, felt too awkward. Once he boosted her up, the furious cries changed to sniffles. “See there? Isn’t that better?” he murmured, patting her little butt as he paced.
Sloane had turned on a small lamp on the changing table and their eyes met as he turned around, made another trek across the floor. Dani lapsed into tired sniffles and by the fifth circuit up and down her floor, she was quiet. He chanced one look and saw that her face was slack, cheeks rosy and her little mouth puckered.
“Here.” Sloane’s voice was soft and he looked up, saw her waiting with her arms outstretched.
It was as he was placing the baby in her arms that he saw the framed print hanging over the changing table.
Danielle Pierce
—
He reached up, touching the glass above the baby’s middle name. “You named her after Pierce.”
“Yes. You and Pierce.”
He froze.
His hand felt slackly to his side as he turned his head, gaping at her.
She cocked her head. “What?” Her voice was low and hushed.
He swallowed and then blindly, turned on one heel and walked out of the room.
He kept right on walking down the stairs and out into the night, pausing only long enough to disarm the alarm system by the back door.
Sloane was right behind him and he turned to stare at her with confused eyes.
“After me and Pierce?”
“Ah…yes?” She rubbed the heel of her hand over her chest. “Her name is Danielle. Your first name is Daniel.”
“I know what my first name is.” He never used it. It was stupid name.
Daniel Boone
. Seriously. His real name was Daniel Boone Cassidy, Jr—yet another reason to hate his name, because it was his father’s name, too. His father had gone by the name Daniel and Boone had wanted no similarity between them, had even considered changing his name at one point, but decided the asshole wasn’t worth the effort or the money it would have cost. “But how did you know my name?”