Page 47 of Boomer (SEAL Team Tier 1, #7)

Taylor surfaced slowly, drifting somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, cocooned in warmth and the steady rhythm of Boomer’s breath.

It was early morning, the dark still waiting for the shift of the earth to give it light.

Her cheek was tucked against the rough edge of his jaw, his arms wrapped around her like a living shield.

Each rise and fall of his chest beneath her lulled her into savoring him, her body heavy with the kind of comfort that made the thought of separating from him feel like a loss.

His breath ghosted over her lips, and she realized with a lazy thrum of awareness that all it would take was the smallest shift.

With a featherlight brush of her mouth to his, his arms tightened in response, a low, wordless answer that curled through her like heat.

Her hand slid toward his chest, intent on savoring the feel of him.

The scent of Boomer clung to the sheets, clean and grounding, like cedar and sun-scorched cotton, hers now.

With her body still humming in the fragile quiet of early morning, she lay tangled in the sheets, one bare leg draped over his, her skin flushed and warm from the heat they’d created together, from the way he had taken her, not just with his body, but with all of him.

Boomer was still asleep, one arm flung across her waist, the other curled beneath the pillow. Even in sleep, his touch was possessive, instinctual, like his body knew what his words hadn’t dared to say yet.

But Boomer was thoughtful, honest, and she would always know where he stood. He would voice his opinion when he was ready, and she had the patience to wait for him because he’d had the restraint to not only wait for her, but to give all that he had.

She ached in the best possible way. Her thighs were sore, her lips swollen from his kisses, her breath still didn’t come easily when she thought about the way he’d moved inside her, deep, slow, relentless, etching himself into her skin and leaving no part of her untouched.

She could still feel the imprint of his hands on her hips, the press of his chest against her back, the tender way he held her after, his breathing ragged against her temple like he couldn’t quite believe she was real.

She was his.

Something inside her shifted. Finally. Quietly. Irrevocably.

She wasn’t just lying in his arms. She was lying in the aftershock of a decision she hadn’t voiced but felt down to her bones.

She was ready to blow up her life for this man.

It wouldn’t be easy, and it sure as hell wouldn’t be neat.

But it would be hers . For the first time, Taylor wasn’t letting the grip of control or the fear of losing it dictate how she was going to live.

She’d spent years armoring herself against disappointment, guarding every inch of her heart like it was a battlefield.

But Boomer hadn’t broken down her walls.

He’d stood outside them, steady and unshaken, until she opened the gate on her own.

It was as if he’d melted the frozen hold her mother had over her, and it was her own voice rising up, saying this . This man. This path. This risk.

She didn’t know what came next. Not really. But she knew what she wanted.

What happened last night hadn’t just been physical.

It was a claiming. Not of her body but of her right to want.

To choose. To love. She was done living her life as a response to her mother’s voice, done twisting herself to stay untouched.

That voice, the one that ruled with expectations and consequences, had finally gone quiet. In its place was her own.

Her voice was saying this was worth it. He was worth it.

Ansel deserved to see someone choose fiercely. Choose family. Choose love without apology. She was finally ready to be the kind of woman who could lead with strength…and still open her arms.

The soft, deliberate knock at the door shattered the moment, and her eyes flew open.

Boomer stirred beside her, his arm flexing as he shifted, a quiet sound escaping his throat, low and gravelly.

She brushed a kiss against his shoulder before easing out from under his arm, careful not to wake him.

The air was cool against her skin as she slipped into her robe, belting it tight as she padded toward the door.

Outside, the world was already in motion.

But for one perfect moment, her heart beat just for him.

Opening the door, she found Anna there. Taylor’s heart dropped like a stone. Boomer was still warm in the sheets, the scent of his skin and their shared heat still clinging to her like smoke, but the sound of Anna’s voice sliced through the moment like the report of a rifle shot.

She blinked against the abrupt light, the sheets rustling as Boomer shifted behind her.

“I’m so, so sorry to wake you.” Anna’s voice was rough with exhaustion and something tighter underneath.

Urgency. She glanced once toward the bed and then winced.

“Damn, I really am. Ice wanted me to wait, but I couldn't. Our interdiction package is ready, and we’ve got a full load. I tried texting you.”

Taylor’s stomach twisted. “It’s okay,” she murmured, pulse kicking into a faster rhythm. “How much time?”

Anna exhaled, leaned a shoulder against the frame like she was borrowing its strength. “Just enough to shower, eat, and gear up. Twenty would be good.” She glanced at Boomer and smiled. “But I’ll give you thirty. We have no idea when we’ll be free again.”

Boomer stirred behind her, sitting up slowly, the sheet draped over his lap, one hand dragging through his hair. “Copy that,” he muttered, voice thick with sleep. “We got the green light for Operation Dark Wake?”

Anna nodded. Then she stepped forward and touched Taylor’s arm, her voice lower now. “He’s a good man, Taylor.” She looked past her to Boomer, then back. “You deserve each other.”

It hit Taylor somewhere soft and unguarded. She nodded once, throat thick. “Thanks, Anna.”

Anna backed away with a small smile and vanished into the hallway, the soft click of the door leaving silence behind her.

Boomer swung his legs over the side of the bed, body bare and magnificent in the dim light.

He gave her a crooked, weary grin, something that carved straight through her.

“Well,” he rasped. “No rest for the wicked.”

She crossed to him, her hands cupping his face as he stood. “No,” she murmured, kissing him once, slow and fierce and lingering, before she pulled back. “But we’ll make up for it when we get back.”

He grinned against her mouth. “Darlin’, I like the way you think….” He reached for the belt on her robe. She looked down and could only thank Anna for the extra time. Boomer was fully erect, his cock thick and hard. As her robe fell away, he said, “Why don’t we take a shower together to save time?”

She laughed softly. “Yeah, right,” she whispered, already moving toward him, pressing her now naked body the full length of his muscular form. His erection nestled hot and persistent against her belly. “I think you have an ulterior motive.”

He looked innocently shocked. “Are you saying that something is coming up between us?”

“Yes, besides your morning wood, something beautiful.”

His expression shifted, softened into something raw and real. Her words didn’t just echo what they’d shared. They built on it. Layered it. Deepened the weight of everything still coming.

He broke away from her, and she watched as he walked away.

She sighed…that man’s body, his tight, gorgeous ass, the heavy muscles of his back and shoulders.

By the time she got over the view, the water was already running when she stepped into the bathroom, steam curling like silk over the tile, blurring the mirrors and softening the edges of everything except him.

Boomer stood beneath the spray, his hands braced against the wall, head bowed, water sluicing down the powerful lines of his back. The muscles across his shoulders flexed with every breath. The tension in his body wasn’t from fatigue. It was need, and she read it like a love letter.

She paused for half a second, just to take him in. To mark this.

The man who broke through steel with power and finesse, who read pressure lines like a second language, now stood here, his whole frame humming with the effort not to reach for her first.

Taylor stepped forward slowly, letting the robe fall behind her like a discarded question.

He didn’t turn. But he knew. “Get in here, Red,” he said softly, voice rough from sleep, low and wrecked in the way she already craved.

She stepped into the heat, into the space where he waited, and pressed herself against his back. Her arms slid around his waist, and she rested her cheek between his shoulder blades. His skin was hot and damp beneath her palms, the pulse in him steady and deep, like a drumbeat she knew by heart.

“I wasn’t done with you last night,” she whispered.

His head dropped forward with a quiet, ragged groan. One hand braced on the slick tile, the other tightening where it rested on her hip. “You say things like that,” he muttered, voice wrecked, “and I lose my fucking mind.”

She smiled, pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades, her lips lingering against the heat of his skin. “That’s why I say them.”

Boomer turned, slow and deliberate, like a man shifting the weight of something he didn’t want to end too fast. The water poured over his back and shoulders, dripping down the cut lines of his chest, his abs, his thighs.

His hands came up to her face, big and sure, but so gentle. He cradled her jaw like she was something precious, thumbs sweeping across her cheeks. The pads of his fingers were rough, warm, grounding.

His eyes found hers, green gone deep and dark and completely unguarded.

“You like teasing me, Red?” he asked, voice low and rough, but the question wasn’t playful.

It was hungry. Needy.