A heartbeat and then a cough. “Yeah. Just dandy.”
I went out into the living room to give Bo some privacy but I could still hear the faint sounds of water running and cabinet doors opening. I struck my hand against my forehead. Bo might want to shower. He had, after all, fought tonight. He hadn’t smelled sweaty at all, only a musky, manly smell. Delicious and comforting at the same time. I rushed to my closet and pulled out a big bath sheet, thanking my mother silently for splurging on a couple of huge towels.
I knocked again. “Hey, do you want to shower? I have a towel here.”
The door opened immediately, and I stumbled back a minute at the sight of Bo without his shirt on and his jeans unbuttoned and unzipped. What had Sasha said about him? My ovaries weren’t clenching. They were doing a celebration. Every nerve in my body awoke and reached for him. I swayed a little on my feet, and Bo put out a hand on my shoulder to brace me.
“You okay, Sunshine?”
“Just a little lightheaded,” I confessed.
“You get into bed,” Bo ordered. I did as he said. There was no resisting his Nordic power at this point. It was like he’d struck me with the mythical thunderbolt. I climbed into bed and he pulled the covers over me. Bending over, he kissed me on the forehead and murmured, “I’ll be two minutes.”
I lay there dazed and listened to the water of the shower flood on. The shame I’d felt earlier was chased away by the images of Bo flexing and turning in the shower, running his soapy hands over the hills and valleys made by his muscles. I thought of the light hair that dusted his upper chest and the darker trail that arrowed into his jeans. There was a large mark on his back that looked like a tattoo of a winged creature. I wanted to explore it with my fingers and tongue.
I was getting out of bed to get a glass of water to cool me down when Bo came out, shirtless with loose-fitting boxers hanging precariously off his hips. Those weren’t my boxers. The light briefly illuminated his fit body, from the wide shoulders to the tapered waist and his powerful thighs. Even his knees looked manly yet attractive. Who thinks knees are attractive?
We stared at each other, the sexual attraction arcing and rising between us like a living, palpable thing. Bo came over, draping the towel around his shoulders. His hand curled around the back of my neck and tilted my head upward.
“How’d you feel if I just held you tonight? No funny business.”
Oh, the idea of being held all night by Bo filled me with delight. This was the temptation that was too enticing to resist. Zzzzap goes the moth.
“Would that even be fair?” I asked.
He shook his head a couple of times, and I felt tiny drops of water flit across my skin like little fairy kisses. “AM, you don’t owe me anything. I want to be with you, but only so I can hold you. I’m wrung out from tonight.”
“The fight?” I asked, unsure of what had gotten to him.
“Right, the fight,” he said, but I think he meant something else. I wasn’t brave enough to ask. Instead, I ducked under his hand and moved backward on the bed, lifting the sheets in invitation.
“I’d like that,” I admitted reluctantly. “To be held by you.”
“Good.” He gave his hair another pass with the towel and stepped back into the bathroom. He came out with the extra T-shirt in his hand. “You buy this, too?”
I nodded.
“It’s a little on the small side. You mind if I go without?”
“No, it’s fine.” I curled my nails into my palms. Snuggling only, I reminded myself. Suddenly all my tiredness was chased away, and I felt wired, full of ten cups of coffee on my way through an all-nighter. I’d caught my second wind, being stirred up by lust or something. How was I ever going to sleep?
“I like to sleep near the door, if you don’t mind.” Bo sauntered over to the bed and climbing in. He slid all the way under the covers and when his leg brushed mine, I jerked. He immediately apologized.
“No, it’s all right. It’s just been a long time,” I confessed. I’d actually slept with my two previous partners less than a handful of times. This was still foreign to me. I debated how I would lie next to him, where I should put my arms or legs. But Bo just slid one arm underneath my neck and pulled my head onto his shoulder. He reached down and pulled my top leg over his and then kissed me on top of my head.
“Done rearranging me?”
“Yup,” came the nonchalant reply.
“We haven’t even kissed yet, you know,” I told him. “It seems weird to sleep together.”
“We’re not ready yet.”
I liked that. It wasn’t just that I wasn’t ready but that he wasn’t either. He may have been blowing smoke up my ass, but I liked the sentiment. I thought I’d lie awake all night, but the comfort and warmth of his body relaxed me and the emotional tumult drained that sudden burst of energy. I fell asleep almost immediately, cocooned in the safety of Bo Randolph’s arms.