Unforgettable (The Dalton Gang #3) Read Online Free PDF

cock, then slowly back.
    “Silly girl,” he said, feeling another twitch firing off down below and wrapping himself as best he could in the towel. He didn’t want to scare her, too. What he wanted to do was fuck her and her magnificent tits. “Thanks for the use of the bed. I’ll strip the sheets for you. Doubt you’ll want to be sleeping on those tonight.”
    She reached for the door to pull it closed, giving him, he guessed, the privacy he didn’t need to dry off. “I’ll strip the sheets. You go eat breakfast. It’s on the table.”
    “And my clothes?”
    “On the back of one of the chairs. All clean.”
    A saint. He’d been right. “Thanks. I’m pretty much about to pass out from starvation.”
    A heartbeat of tension passed between them. He felt it in his throat when he swallowed. Saw it in hers when her tongue flicked out to wet her lips. She caught one edge of the lower with her teeth before saying, “I’ve got a feeling starvation’s not what’s got you weak in the knees.” And then she closed the door.
    He wasn’t sure whether to laugh; or whip off his towel, whip off her clothes, and whip them both into a lather as he rode her. In the end, he didn’t laugh, or do any whipping. But he did promise himself he’d be taking that ride.
    And soon.
    *   *   *
     
    F INISHED WITH SWITCHING out the fitted sheet, Everly smoothed the top one into place, trying to erase from her mind the picture of Boone in her bed. It was a queen, and she usually slept on the right. That left room for whatever book she fell asleep reading, or her extra pillows, or her laptop and story notes spread out on the other side. She slept with work many nights, and never disturbed so much as a pencil.
    It would be hard to share a bed with Boone Mitchell and not . . . be disturbed.
    They’d danced together, so his size wasn’t a surprise. Except it was when he was naked and sprawled across her mattress, two pillows bunched up in his arms, a foot hanging off the side of the bed, his tight bare ass begging, at the very least, to be slapped. If not slapped, then bitten, and licked, which she’d found herself wanting to do.
    Straightening the bound edge of the sheet, she breathed deeply, smelling fabric softener and little more. He’d left nothing of himself in her room, and she thought she might miss the part of him that didn’t smell like livestock. It had been so long since she’d slept with a man. That quiet intimacy, even more than making love, was something she hadn’t thought she’d miss, but she did, and terribly so.
    She liked that he’d come to the fund-raiser as himself, straight from the back of a horse. No one who hadn’t danced with him would’ve noticed his earthy scent, and she didn’t remember him dancing with anyone else but Lizzie Nathan. Luck Summerlin had certainly had no issue with the aroma rising from his skin and his clothes. But then Luck Summerlin would put up with most anything to have men other women wanted. At least until it came time to deliver on the promises she’d made.
    Everly punched up her pillows, then punched them again. She felt consumed with . . . envy, which made no sense. She had no claim on Boone. All she’d done was get him to a safe place to sleep. And undress him. And tuck him in. And grow wet with the strongest rush of longing she’d known in years. It was proximity; that was all. She would’ve felt the same for any man she’d stripped out of his clothes.
All of his clothes.
    He’d helped with his boots, and his hat was still in her SUV’s backseat, but she’d done the rest, and getting him out of his briefs . . . wow. His penis, even soft, was thick and long, the veins beautifully distended, the head a perfect mushroom crown she’d been unable to resist touching. She’d wanted to take him into her mouth, to tongue him and tease him and feel him harden. She wanted that now, and couldn’t wait for him to finish breakfast and get out of her