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That wasn’t the problem and he knew it. “You’re sending me home.” Had she just said that out loud? Damn.

“You’re going home.”

She couldn’t see his face in the darkness, but his breath ghosted across her lips. Close, very close. “This isn’t smart.”

“Probably not.”

He shifted and then his tongue traced along the shell of her ear, making her eyes cross. “You don’t even like me.”

“Only most of the time.”

That surprised a laugh out of her. Then his lips were on hers and there were no more words. She wanted to give herself up to the kiss, to lose herself in him, but Boone kept it light, nipping along her bottom lip before he finally took it to the depth she wanted. He kissed like he wanted to memorize her taste, but Ophelia was so busy giving him the same treatment, she didn’t have time to think about it. And, Lady, but he tasted amazing. Ophelia arched her back, rubbing against him. She pulled back long enough to say, “You’re wearing too many clothes.”

Boone laughed and then they were kissing again, one of his hands keeping hold of her wrists while the other moved down her arm, raising goose bumps in its wake. She writhed when he bypassed her breast and cupped her hip, his fingers feathering over her skin. “Gods, woman, stop doing that.”

“You first.” Was that her voice, all breathy and low?

Ophelia was drowning in him and she couldn’t bring herself to care. Boone chuckled and she felt it all the way to her toes.

“Ophelia.”

She saw it coming as if from a great distance and could do nothing to stop it. “What?”

“Do you trust me?”

What was the deal with the trust questions? People could have sex without trusting each other. They did it all the time. Hells, she and Boone had already done it. And that counted, even if she couldn’t really remember. “Boone.”

His hand drifted up to her ribs, not nearly high enough. “Answer the question.”