For all he knew, that might be because he wasn’t capable of returning that tricky sentiment. Bo wanted to, he ached for that, to give it and receive it, more than he ached physically. It just wasn’t possible.
But, for a little while, he could lie in this uncomfortable bed and imagine what it would be like to have Max love him. That’s exactly what he did, letting those fantasies coax him into a dream-filled sleep.
MILES TO GO
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Chapter Five
Max didn’t know whether it was the rude awakening a few days ago, or the dream he’d had right before being doused with cool water, or maybe a combination of both. Either way, he’d had a difficult time concentrating since that rather chilly event. It didn’t help that every time Annabelle looked at him, she had a smirk on her face that brought a flush to Max’s skin.
And he was almost certain she’d muttered that he had a ‘really nice package’. Max was too afraid to call her on that. Between trying to avoid Annabelle and staring off at nothing, feeling alternating moments of mortification and arousal at the memory of having Bo scrubbing at his dick, Max was thoroughly behind in his work.
Then there was that damned dream he’d had the morning he’d ended up with a
sopping wet crotch. Images from that dream kept popping up every chance they got. Visions of sliding his dick into Bo’s beautiful ass, burying his shaft so deep the man could taste it, would flicker through Max’s mind at the most inconvenient times. He’d dropped Rama’s saddle then promptly tripped over it—and he’d swear that horse snickered at him for it—
when a wave of sensual heat had rolled over him.
He’d just been minding his own business, doing his job then his brain had tossed up a vision of Bo’s ass thrusting back against his groin, grinding and rubbing until Max had nearly come in his jeans. If he hadn’t dropped the saddle, he’d probably have dropped his load. Taking a tumble was only marginally less humiliating than having his cock spew like a horny teenager’s.
Now it was full-on dark, and Annabelle had gone to the bunkhouse to check on Bo.
She’d given Max a wink when she told him she’d be dining at the big house. Max wasn’t sure what that wink was for. He wasn’t used to being around women much, and if Annabelle was a fair example of the opposite sex, they were just as confusing as hell. Maybe he should drag his heels and hope she’d be gone before he got back.
Max discarded the idea as cowardly as he made his way home. Wasn’t like Annabelle was going to jump his bones—she just liked to tease, and that was something Max didn’t have a lot of experience with. The fact that he really wanted to see Bo, only to make sure the man was doing better today, was an incentive to hurry he wished he didn’t have to MILES TO GO
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acknowledge. It scared him and thrilled him every time he saw Bo, and Max wasn’t quite sure what to do about that.
Truly, the only time he didn’t feel like a ball of ragged nerves around Bo was when they went to bed. After that first night together, Max had decided it’d be better to push the twin beds together. More room for them both if Bo had another nightmare and Max ended up in bed with him. Not that it made any difference. They always woke in the morning tangled together some way or another, usually right on the seam where the two beds pressed together. It was the most uncomfortable spot to sleep on, but worth it to feel Bo’s warm body draped over his.
The porch light was on, which meant Max had to bat away a slew of June bugs and
moths. There were other flying critters that he didn’t bother trying to identify. Some things were best left unknown. The tarantula Annabelle had nicknamed Fred was hanging on the lower part of the screen door. Those hairy things were creepy as all get out, and even though they weren’t poisonous, Max was certain he’d have a heart attack and keel over if one ever bit him.
Carefully edging his way to the door handle, Max kept a close eye on Fred as he slipped inside the house. Tarantulas could jump, and Max didn’t trust Fred at all. He’d take the can of Raid to that spider—not to spray it, but to beat it to death with—if he didn’t think Annabelle would have his balls for it.
Max breathed a sigh of relief when he closed the door behind him. Fred was still on the outside of the screen. He didn’t have to worry about death by freaky spider tonight.
“Rough day?” The words were spoken with a painful sounding rasp.
Max yelped in surprise. Bo was sitting on the battered couch just inside the bunkhouse.
This was the first time the man had really been out of bed, and he’d damned near managed to accomplish what Fred hadn’t. Max’s heart was pounding in his chest like it was trying to rip free from his body.
“You could say that,” Max replied a little breathlessly. Bo was shirtless, which accounted for Max’s asthmatic impersonation. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen the man in such a state of undress, and it always did this to him. Even badly bruised, Bo was still the most attractive person Max had ever seen.
Guess that explains why I was never much interested in girls. Women, excuse me, Ms Steinem.
Doesn’t explain why I ain’t felt like this about
