Unspoken(65)

“Shhh, we’ve got all day,” Bo said.

With that, I tamped down my impatience and allowed myself to be swept up by Bo’s desire.




CLASS THE FOLLOWING WEEK WAS particularly difficult. We couldn’t keep our hands of each other. The professor didn’t say a word, but I felt like he caught us a time or two.

I had to be the good one, because Bo claimed he had no self-control. What he really meant was that he had no desire to exert it now that we were together.

His hand crept onto my leg, higher and higher. It wasn’t that I didn’t want him to touch me. Rather it was that I responded to him too easily. He’d absently rub his fingers against the inseam of my jeans, and I’d get wet and have to sit there trying to take notes while aroused and uncomfortable. It wasn’t easy.

“Can you not place your hand on my leg,” I hissed at the beginning of class on Wednesday. I’d barely made it out of Bio on Monday without having an orgasm from just his hand resting on my thigh.

“Will you place yours on mine instead?” Bo bargained.

“No, I won’t.” I frowned at him.

“I’m glad I’m a lefty. Makes it easier to take notes and stroke you at the same time.” Bo looked smug, as if he had willed himself into being left-hand dominant for just the purpose of being able to multitask with his girlfriend during class.

“I’m trying to concentrate, and you’re making it too hard,” I complained.

“Lord, I’m the one who’s hard all the time.” Bo smiled perversely. “But I like it.” Suddenly his mood turned serious. “Am I really bothering you? Because I’ll stop.”

His blue eyes filled with worry. He was always so concerned about how I felt: whether it was good for me in bed, if I had the right kind of food; if should he carry me over the snow-covered walk so my boots wouldn’t get wet. I cupped his cheek and gave him a sweet kiss. “It’s all good.”

I did love his hand on my thigh or around my shoulders. His near-constant attention and his need for regular physical connection made me feel secure and desirable.

We traded our schedules, but apparently Bo knew all of mine already.

“Mike,” he explained with a touch of chagrin.

I shook my head. I barely knew who that was, but I didn’t care. Bo worked out early in the mornings and then met me at the apartment to take Ellie and me out for breakfast, if we wanted. Sometimes Ryan even came, and Ellie and I shared a small smile of pleasure at seeing both guys get along so well despite their five year age difference. Ryan was an old soul, I guess.

“Is your nickname because you like to do Easter dioramas with Peeps?” I asked one evening we were having dinner together. Bo had finally confessed, after I subjected him to much pulling of his chest hair, that the boys in his platoon called him Bo Peep.

“Easter what?” he asked, his forkful of spaghetti hanging suspended halfway between the plate and his mouth.

“Dioramas, you know, the little scenes made out of candy?”

“Nope. And I’m going to have to see pictures of this. Is this like the duck face? Because I haven’t recovered from that yet.” He proceeded to shovel the food in his mouth like he hadn’t eaten in a month, when I knew for a fact he’d had a foot-long sub sandwich after biology class.

“Maybe I don’t want to tell you. You might not respect me in the morning.” His tone was semi-serious.

“Don’t say that. It’s not funny.”

“I know it’s not. That’s why I don’t want to share with you.” Bo set his fork down and reached for my hand. “I want you to continue in your deluded state believing that I’m good enough for you.”

I gave him a dour look and gave up. “Do you want me to walk you to the gym before class?”

“On campus?”

“Yeah, I heard you put on quite the show.” I pulled my hand back and picked up my fork.

“Nah, I went back to Paulie and abased myself. Promised I wouldn’t fight, and he allowed me back into Spartan.”

“Why there instead of Central?”

Bo shrugged and took another big bite of his dinner. “Where else can I flip tractor tires?”

“A farm?” I teased.

“I’m an oilman, not a farmer, Sunshine,” Bo drawled.

“Are you?” I asked curiously. Bo didn’t share much about his past.

“Well, Pops was,” Bo referred to his grandfather affectionately. “He had a couple of wells we thought were dried up on the back of some property but ended up having a little left. Leased the mineral rights for a lot of money, gave some to his son and put some in trust for me.”