Page 35 of Boomer

He was still so close, his body radiating heat. His mouth inches from hers. His hands had left her waist, but she could still feel the echo of their grip.

“You going to let me go, darlin’?” His eyes sparked with humor and a sensual light that made her lightheaded.

“Only because I don’t like splinters,” she murmured. He gave her another grin. “That’s not helping, Boomie.”

He chuckled as she allowed space between them, but barely. He chuckled again. “You’re killing me, angel,” he whispered as he slid his body sideways, brushing everything along the way, then took a step back, slow, like he had to force his legs to move. His eyes never left hers.

Taylor leaned against the wall, both palms pressed to the cool surface, trying to regulate her breathing. Her chest rose and fell too fast. Her lips were swollen, her skin flushed.

She didn’t say anything. Neither did he. There was too much, and not enough time.

He lingered a beat longer. Studied her like he wanted to memorize the way she looked in this light, her body still humming from him.

“Goodnight,” he said, voice low. Rough around the edges.

She closed her eyes, turned her head. “Goodnight, Boomer.” It came out too soft. Too full.

He walked away backward, those eyes locked on hers, each step echoing down the corridor like thunder held in check.

She didn’t move for a full minute. Then she exhaled. Pressed her forehead to the wall, and whispered, so quiet only the silence could hear, “Gotthelp me.”

6

Boomer layflat on his back in his bed, listening to Break’s even breathing. He didn’t think he could hurt like this. Not again, not in such a different way.

He was still reeling, physically, mentally, emotionally. The ache in his chest had everything to do withher.

Taylor had kissed him. Put her hands on him.All over him.He’d let her, not just because it felt so goddamn good, but because sheneededto. He understood that impulse. Understood loneliness. Understoodherloneliness.

He’d felt it in her hands, in the press of her lips, in the way she sought him out like a lifeline she hadn’t meant to grab.

But the taste of her was still on his mouth. The feel of her against him wouldn’t leave his skin. It was so much he craved, so much that had fallen in his lap, and it scared the hell out of him.

They hadn’t even had time to figure out who they were to each other. Yet…here they were, tangled up in appetite and memory and something that felt likehopeandhopewas dangerous.

His gut told him to step back. Just a little. Just enough to not let the fire consume the foundation.

That instinct had been with him a long time.

His dad had owned a small garage off a sleepy highway, just two bays, a calendar that hadn’t been flipped in years, and a smell of old rubber and grease that clung to his skin like a second layer. Boomer grew up under hoods and between pistons, learning not just how to fix things, but how to listen.

Don’t force it,his dad used to say.The machine always tells you what’s wrong if you’re smart enough to shut up and hear it.

That’s what made him a good breacher. Why EOD felt like second nature. He didn’t look for breaks. He listened for pressure. For fracture points. For the sound of tension before it snapped.

Right now, everything in him was humming with a warning. This wasn’t about holding back. It was about holding it together. About not letting what they’d started drown under the weight of how much they already felt.

Taylor was warm. Beautiful in a way that wasn’t just skin-deep. She wasgroundedlike she had roots in a storm.

He’d burned through too much. A marriage he destroyed because he stopped showing up. A transfer he still hadn’t made peace with. A grave he couldn’t bear to visit. The roadblocks slammed into him, hard and fast.

Taylor deserved someone without all this baggage. She was too young. Too smart. Too far out of reach.

He wasn’t under any illusions. He wasn’t sure what they were building. But for once, he didn’t want to be the man who walked away when it got real.

He wanted to get this right.

He rubbed a hand over his face, as if he could scrub the memory away. But it was still there. Last night in the kitchen.