Free Combustible (A Boone Childress Novel) by CC Abbott Page B

the rest of the bottle of wine with him, keeping up glass for glass until the chocolate torte made its appearance.
    “Are you trying to get me drunk?” she asked Boone as he poured the last drops in to her glass.
    “I was about to ask you the same thing.”
    The blush that had started in her neck reached her cheeks. “Oh, eat your dessert.”
    Boone cut a piece of the torte with the fork. “You first.”
    She leaned forward with an open mouth, and he gently placed the chocolate on her tongue.
    “Oh my g od!” She covered her mouth with her hand. “That’s the best I’ve ever had.”
    Boone smiled and offered up another piece. “Care to go again?”
    “No, your turn.”
    “I don’t eat chocolate.”
    “ You rat! If I’d known that, I wouldn’t have let you order it.”
    “How,” Boone said grinned, “do you think you could’ve stopped me?”
    In answer, she opened her mouth and leaned forward to take let him feed her again. As he did, the same knot formed in his stomach , and he had to relax his hand to keep from shaking.
    “That’s all,” she said through the next bite. “It’s delicious but too rich. I have to watch my figure.”
    “I could watch it for you.”
    “Haven’t you already been doing that?” she said, and her face erupted in a blush.
    “Guilty as charged.” He raised his hand to signal the server to bring the check. “Care for a walk on the beach?”
    “You read my mind.”
    A few minutes later, they were strolling beneath the pier where they’d been dining, shoes in hand, fingers locked together. The tips of the waves nibbled at their feet, and the shadows of the coming night already silhouetting the houses on the beach. The wind had picked up, and Cedar shivered in the cold.
    “Hang on.” Boone removed his coat and placed it gently on her shoulders. “How’s that?”
    “That,” she said and turned her face up to his, “was about the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
    “Technically, you didn’t see it, since it’s already dark-thirty.”
    “Just shut up,” she said and leaned into his chest, “and kiss me.”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    Running the back of his hand along her cheek, his slipped his fingers into her hair and pulled her closer as he bent down, their lips coming together, gently at first. Then when the tip of her tongue touched his bottom lip, his nerves erupted and he yanked her tight, one hand on the back of her head, the other on the small of her back.
    W ithout letting go of him, Cedar eased her petite body into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled herself deeper into his mouth, her lithe tongue dancing around his, driving him so crazy that his body ached.
    They kissed for so long that Boone lost track of time. He was only dimly aware of the rising tide washing over his bare feet. Then he realized that his hands were both on Cedar, and he had dropped his shoes.
    “If think,” he said as the kiss faded, “that the ocean ate my footwear.”
    “The perfect end,” she said, almost breathless, “to the perfect date.”
     

WEDNESDAY
 
 
 
    After his morning Carolina History class , Boone traded texts with Cedar before going to volunteer at the homeless shelter, where he ladled out bowls of vegetable soup, along with stale bread toast covered with slices of processed cheese food. Afterwards, he helped out by stripping sheets from the bed and making them with clean linens.
    When he got home, there was more work waiting for him. The stalls had to be mucked, the barn raked, and the straw replaced. All night and all morning, he’d been thinking about that kiss. Of course, he’d wanted to go farther, and he had the feeling that Cedar had wanted to, as well. She was right about it being a perfect date, even if did cost him a perfectly good pair of shoes. It was worth it, just like it was worth it not to push Cedar. Moments like that mattered to a girl like her, and if he were being honest, they mattered to him, too.
    That’s why