Unspoken(66)

“What are you doing at Central then?”

“Didn’t have anything better going on.” At my stare, Bo grinned. “That’s the real reason. I couldn’t think of anything better at the time when Noah announced he was coming here. I’ve been following that boy since we were seventeen. I figured that if I spent two more years in school, maybe I’d figure out what I wanted to be when I grew up.”

“I’ve always known,” I admitted.

“Insurance has always been your dream?” Bo asked skeptically.

“Not insurance, but being able to support myself and my mom,” I explained. “I know from other people’s experience I can make a good living in it. And it’s something that’s kind of recession-proof. I need to be in a career with a lot of security.”

Bo nodded gravely. He understood that I needed stability in all aspects of my life, including the parts where he was taking root.

If I had an evening class, Bo showed up to walk me home, and he often spent the night. I was grateful that Ellie didn’t mind the company.

Afternoons and weekends we studied. Or tried to, at least.

“I’m bored,” Bo said, throwing his pen down on his notebook. “I hate class.”

“This particular class in general or all of them?” My nose was still buried in my notebook.

“All of them,” he grunted and rolled onto his side so he could trace the curve of my spine as we laid side by side on the bed. It was Friday night, two weeks after our coffee shop confessions. Bo didn’t seem to mind that I wanted to work on school stuff instead of going out and drinking with his buddies. I’d even skipped a party at his house, although Bo went for a short time and returned a couple hours later complaining the party was no fun without me.

I turned my head to peer at him. “Why? It all seems to come so easy for you.”

Bo had an amazing recall. I wasn’t sure if he even needed to take notes or if he did so because it kept him occupied during class.

“I’d rather be doing stuff. Sitting for fifty minutes listening to some prof wank on about some dead topic is worse than walking patrol for eleven miles with our hundred-and-fifty-pound rucksacks on our backs.”

“What about your trust?”

Bo gave a negligent shrug. “Dunno. Think it’s controlled by the bank back in Little Oak.”

“Do you have to be in school? Is that like a requirement of your trust?”

He shook his head.

“Then why even be here?”

“What else would I do?” Bo asked, perplexed. “Isn’t that what people do? Graduate, get a degree. Work nine to five and then want to kill yourself at the end of the day from boredom.”

“I hope not.” I frowned. “If you don’t see yourself wanting to be in an office, then you should look for something you do enjoy.”

He glanced at me and rolled onto his back, settling his shoulders against the headboard.

“Come here.” He motioned for me, and when I didn’t immediately move, he pulled me on top of him so I straddled his legs.

“What’s up?” I teased, my hair forming a curtain around us.

“I’m looking for something I enjoy doing” was his smart-ass comeback.

He pushed me lightly on my back so I would press harder against him. Looping my arms around his neck, I asked, “Is it biology or boredom that makes you horny?”

“It was philosophy, and no, you make me horny.”

He moved his hips against mine, slowly rocking his hard cock against me. I couldn’t hold back the corresponding movement, swaying to meet his gentle thrusts.

His hands cruised slowly up and down my sides, his blue eyes darkening to navy with want. He paused at the bottom of my t-shirt; a question lit his eyes. I lifted my arms in silent assent to his unasked question. Pulling my shirt up, he twisted it in the back so that the cotton caught on my braless breasts. Then he jerked the shirt up, and my breasts bounced from the quick release.

He laughed, low and delighted, at the movement. “I love your tits.” He framed them with his hands, pushing them together, a thumb over each small nipple.

“Tits? Nice,” I said a little breathlessly.

“What would you rather I call them? Breasts? Boobies?” His voice was muffled as he pressed his nose and mouth against the plumped-up flesh. “Tatas?” He licked one nipple and looked at me with a wicked, mischievous smile.

“More action, less talk.” I pushed his head back toward to my breast as all thoughts of biology, careers, and class were chased away. He acquiesced and placed his mouth over my breast, sucking in the nipple, rolling it gently between his teeth. He moved from one breast to the other, the cold air replaced by his hot mouth providing a heightened response. I felt like every part of me was standing at attention as he licked and sucked and my body strained to offer itself up to his marauding mouth, tongue, and teeth.